}
ARTES
1837
SCIENTIA
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
E-PLURIBUS UNUM
TDEBOR
SQUAERIS PENINSULAM AMOENAM
CIRCUMSPICE
THIS BOOK
FORMS PART OF THE
ORIGINAL LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
BOUGHT IN EUROPE
1838 TO 1839
BY
ASA GRAY

4
A
Complete Edition
of the
Ports
of
GREAT BRITAIN.
Volume the Firft.
Containing
Chaucer, Surrey Wyatt & Sackville..
www
LONDON.
Printed for Iohn & Arthur Arch, 23.Gracechurch Street:
and for Bell & Bradfute &I Mundell&C: Edinburgh.
1
THE
WORK S
OF THE
BRITISH POET S.
WITH
PREFACES,
BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL,
CHAUCER,
SURREY,
BY ROBERT ANDERSON, M.D.
VOLUME FIRST;
Containing
11
AND A GLOSSARY,
3-11
1
WYAT,
t
SACKVILLE,
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR JOHN & ARTHUR ARCH; AND FOR BELL & BRADFUTE;
AND J. MUNDELL & CO. EDINBURGH.
1795.
;
PREFACE.
WHEN a new collection of Engliſh Foetry is offered to the public, it will doubtless be inquired
what are the deficiencies of preceding collections, which another editor may hope to ſupply.
On referring back to the feveral publications of this kind, which have exercifed the abilities of
other perfons, the reader will fee on what ground the editor judged the work, which he now pre-
fents to the world, to be neceffary.
English literature is undoubtedly under no ſmall obligations to thoſe who have affociated the ſcat-
tered productions of our poets in one collection, and by that means have fecured their general preż
fervation.
Tottell, editor of the "Songes and Sonnettes" of Surrey, Wyat, and of "Uncertain Auctors,"
1557, the firft printed Poetical Mifcellany in the English language; Allot, editor of " England's
Parnaffus," 1600; Bodenham, editor of “ Belvidere, or the Garden of the Mufes," 16co; and the
anonymous editors of the "Paradife of Daintie Devifes," 1578; and " England's Helicon," 100
have preferved many admirable fpecimens of ancient genius, which would have mouldered in
manufcript, or perhaps, from their detached and fugitive ftate of exiſtence, their want of length,
the capricioulneſs of tafte, the general depredations of time, inattention, and other accidents, -would
never have reached the prefent age.
Mrs. Cooper, in her "Mufes Library," 1737; Mr. Hayward, in his "British Mufe," 1738;
Mr. Capel in his “ Prolufious," 1740; Dr. Percy in his "Reliques," 1765; Mr. Evans, in his " Old-
Ballads," 1777: Mr. Headley, in his "Beauties of Ancient English Poetry," 1787; and Mr. Ritfon,
in his "Ancient Songs," 1789, followed the fame plan, in confequence of which many valu-
alle picces are refcued from oblivion, that, from their brevity and unconnectedness, could not
poflibly have furvived for any length of time by themfelves; and many judicious felections are
made, from an attentive pernfal of antique and obfolete writers, which exhibit complete and fatis-
factory Specimens of their different modes of writing.
.
The collections of a fimilar nature, formed by Davifon, Dryden, Fenton, Steele, Pope, Pemberton,
Lintot, C. Tooke, Dodfley, Fawkes, Donaldſon, Pearch and Nichols, contain an infinite number of
fmall poems, many of which must be allowed to poffefs confiderable merit; being the productions
of men of real genius, who, from the brevity, rather than the inferiority of their writings, have
been uſually styled "Minor Poets.'
A degree of praiſe not much inferior to that which the above compilers have acquired, is due to
editors, who, uniting industry with tafte, have prefented the public with uniform and elegant edi-
tions of the Works of the Britiſh Poets, in the manner of thofe of Italy, Spain, and France.
The first collection of English Poetry which appeared in theſe kingdoms, was formed by Dr.
Blair, and printed at Edinburgh, in 42 vols. 12mo, 1773, for Mcfirs. Creech and Balfour, bookfellers,
containing the works of Milton, Cowley, Butler, Dryden, Waller, Garth, Prior, Addiſon, Parnell,
Pope, Gay, Swift, Young, Thomfon, Shenflone, Gray, and Lyttleton. The elegance of this edition.
is no compenfation for its incompleteness. The contracted lift of authors marked out by Dr. Blais,
includes none of thoſe who have juflly obtained the diſtinction of being denominated our older claf-
fics, except Milton and Cowley. Nor do the contents of the work correſpond with its title, many
long and valuable pieces of Cowley, Parnell, Swift, and Shenftone, being omitted in the collection
of their reſpect.e works. This mode of publifhing modern works of credit, the contents of
PREFACE.
1
which happen to be unequal, unlefs immediately intended for the uſe of fchools, does but mul-
tiply books to no good end. By anticipating him, it deprives the reader of that pleaſure which
every one feels, and of that right which every onc is entitled to, of judging for himſelf. Cowley,
Parnell, Swift, and Shenftone, are far too well known to ftand in need of fuch partial recom-
mendation, and, in fact, hold a moft diftinguished rank in the " fchool of the people."
In 1776, a Collection of English Poetry, upon a more extenfive plan, was undertaken by Mr. Bell,
bookſeller in London, to be printed by the Martins, at the Apollo Preſs, Edinburgh, in 109 mi-
niature volumes, ornamented with engravings, containing the entire works of the authors admitted
into Dr. Blair's edition, and the works of Chaucer, Spenfer, Donne, Denham, Rofcommon, Buck-
ingham, Lanfdown, King, Pomfret, Congreve, Rowe, Watts, J. Philips, Smith, Hughes, Fenton,
Tickell, Somervile, Broome, Savage, Pitt, A. Philips, Dyer, G. Weft, Hammond, Collins, Moore,
Armstrong, R. Weft, Mallet, Cunningham, and Churchill. The works of the feveral authors.
were publiſhed feparately, without any regard to chronological order, and at long intervals,
fome of the later volumes being printed at London in 1787. In this edition, three of our older
claffics appear, to whom no place had been given in Dr. Blair's edition, and feveral modern writers
of credit are adopted as legitimate and eſtabliſhed poets. Such, however, is the fate of the work,
that we ſeldom fee it entire, but meet with its contents wandering feparately, and disjointed in
every catalogue.
In 1779, while Mr. Bell's publication was going forward, the London bookfellers publiſhed a
collection of the "Works of the English Poets," in 60 vols. fmall 8vo, with Prefaces Biographical
and Critical, by Dr. Johnſon, and heads engraved by Bartolozzi. &c.
The following account of this undertaking, as given by Mr. Edward Dilly, in a letter to Mr.
Bofwell, dated, Southill, Sept. 26. 1777, will not be unentertaining to thofe who delight in tra-
cing the progrefs of works of literature; fince it was the occafion of procuring for us an elegant
collection of the best biography and criticifm of which our language can boaſt.
"The edition of the Poets now printing will do honour to the English prefs, and a concife ac-
count of the life of each author by Dr. Johnfon, will be a very valuable addition, and flamp the
reputation of this edition, fuperior to any thing that is gone before. The firſt cauſe that gave rile
to this undertaking, I believe, was owing to the little trifling edition of the Poets printing by the
Martins, at Edinburgh, and to he fold by Bell in London. Upon examining the volumes which
were printed, the type was found fo extremely ſmall, that many perfons could not read them: Not
only this inconvenience attended it, but the inaccuracy of the prefs was very confpicuous. Theſe
reafons, as well as the idea of an invafion of what we call our Literary Property, induced the Lon-
don bookfellers to print an elegant and accurate edition of all the English Poets of reputation, frous
Chaucer to the prefent time.
C
Accordingly a felect number of the most refpectable bookfellers met on the occafion, and, con-
fulting together, agreed, that all the proprietors of copy-right in the various poets, fhould be fum-
moned together, and when their opinions were given, to proceed immediately to buſineſs. Accord-
ingly a meeting was held, confifting of about forty of the moſt reſpectable bookſellers of London,
when it was agreed, that an elegant and uniform edition of "The English Poets" fhould be imme-
diately printed, with a concife account of the life of each author, by Dr. Samuel Johnfon; and that
three perfons fhould be deputed to wait upon Dr. Johnfon, to folicit him to undertake the Lives,
viz. T. Davies, Strahan, and Cadell. The Doctor very politely undertook it, and ſeemed exceed-
ingly pleaſed with the propofal. As to the terms, it was left entirely to the Doctor to name his
own; he mentioned two hundred guineas; it was immediately agreed to, and a farther compliment,
I believe, will be made him. A committee was likewife appointed to engage the beft engravers, viz.
Bartolozzi, Sherwin, Hall, &c.; likewife another committee for giving directions about the pa-
per, printing, &c. fo that the whole will be conducted with ſpirit, and in the beſt manner, with
reſpect to authorſhip, editorſhip, engravings, &c. &c. My brother will give you a liſt of the Poets
we mean to give, many of which are within the time of the act of Queen Anne, which Martin and
Bell cannot give, as they have no property in them; the proprietors are almoſt all the bookſellers
in London, of confequence."
}
PREFACE.
3
The plan of this edition, fo happily conceived, was more ample than the execution. Inftead of
comprehending "all the English poets of reputation from Chaucer to the prefent time," it
was unaccountably limited to a liſt of fifty-three authors, beginning with Cowley and ending
with Lyttleton; all of whom appear in Mr. Bell's cdition, except Rocheſter, Otway, Dorſet, Stepney,
Walſh, Duke, Sprat, Halifax, and Blackmore; who are difplaced, to make room for Chaucer, Spen-
ſer, Donne, Armſtrong, R. Weft, Cunningham, and Churchill.
The managers of this edition are liable to fome cenfure, for admitting fo few of our older claffics
in a work which bore fo cloſe a relation to the honour of the nation, and which, from its elegance
and magnitude, afforded the happieſt opportunity of uniting our poets, both ancient and modern,
in one comprehenſive view, and of combining their reſpective excellencies in one common intereſt.
Ancient poetry, in thus being exhibited to the public eye, would foon have made good her
claims to notice, and of herſelf recovered the long-loft verdure of her bays; whilft the justice of
that latitude which is commonly affigned to later improvements, from a fair opportunity of a com-
parative examination, might have been more strictly afcertained.
It is well known, that the oftenfible editor was ever glad to eſcape the cenfure which the work had
fallen under, by alleging, that, with the exception of Pomfret, Yalden, Blackmore, and Watts, he
had nothing to do with the felection; he had engaged himſelf only to furniſh a ſet of Lives to
ſuch a lift as the bookfellers, who were the reſponſible publiſhers of the work, fhould think proper.
Dr. Johnſon gave up his life to the literature of his country; a portion of it would not have been
thrown away, had it been dedicated to the completion of fuch an undertaking. In the eſteem of
the bookſellers, he ſtood very high, perhaps higher than any man of his age, and there cannot be
a doubt, but that the management of the work, on the leaſt defire intimated by him, would have
been veſted in his hands, with the utmoſt gratitude and confidence.
As the matter ftands, it is difficult to gueſs the reafon why the managers of this edition admitted
fome authors, while others of fimilar character were rejected. In an edition of poetry, where fome
of the "wits of Charles's days, the mob of gentlemen who wrote with eafe," and the heroes of
the“ Dunciad,” are to be found, we rather wonder at not finding others; where Rocheſter, Rof-
common, Sprat, Halifax, Stepney, and Duke, were received, why Carew, Sedley, Hopkins, Marvell,
and Oldham, were refufed, one is puzzled to guefs; and where Pomfret, Yalden, and Blackmore, are
preferred to Eufden, Welfted, and Hill, it is not eafy to account for the preference. When the pub-
lication was undertaken, Armſtrong and Langhorne, poets of fuperior rank, were living; their works,
confequently, could not be properly inferted; but Churchill, Smart, and Goldſmith, were dead, and
their works certainly had a juft claim to admiffion.
When Dr. Johnſon engaged to furnish the bookſellers with a "Preface" to the works of each author,
it was his intention to have allotted to each peet, an "Advertiíement" like thofe which are found in
the French Miſcellanies, containing a few dates and a general character. That he was led beyond his
intention, " by the honeft defire of giving ufeful pleaſure," will be always a fubject of congratula-
tion to every reader of taste. That he paffed fome partial judgments in his "Lives," that he was
fometimes blinded by prejudice, that he occafionally faw through the medium of party or religion;
and that, without the tafte which would enable him to decide, he rafhly determined from abftract
reaſoning, and the examination of a philofopher, where philofophy was an inadequate judge, muſt be
allowed: But, as fine pieces of nervous writing, pregnant with valuable detached opinions, happy il-
luftrations, nice difcuffions, and a variety of curious incidental' information, they will ever be regard-
ed as the richest, most beautiful, and, indced, most perfect production of his pen.
In 1790, a new edition of this elegant collection was published, in 75 volumes 8vo, which gave
the proprietors an opportunity of adding the works of Moore, Cawthorne, Churchill, Falconer,
Lloyd, Cunningham, Green, Goldsmith, P. Whitehead, Armstrong, Langhorne, Johnſon, W. White-
head, and Jenyns; and of fupplying fome deficiencies in the works of the authors printed in the for-
mer edition.
“Of the authors now firſt added," fays the Advertiſement, "fome are inferted, in compliance
with the repeated calls of the public; fome, in deference to the opinions of perfons whofe tafte can-
not be difputed; and fome have found a place from the favourable fentiments expreffed concerning
them to the publishers, from various quarters. In this felection, the proprietors have not been in-
}
A ij
#
PREFACE.
*
Buenced by any partiality of their own towards the authors felected; they have endeavoured to ob-
tain the beſt opinions, and they have implicitly followed them."
This edition is fuperior to the former, both in elegance and magnitude, and reflects much honour
on the taſte and liberality of the proprietors; but it is equally deficient in the works of our older
claffics, and affords fimilar inftances of caprice in the admiffion to literary honours.
As it was thought neceffary to admit P. Whitehead and Jenyns, it ſeems reafonable to expect that
fome reafon had been given for fhowing them a diſtinction which has been denied to Wilkie, Grain-
ger, Smollet and Scott, and above all, to the immortal Spenfer.
Of the fourteen authors added to the former lift of Engliſh claffics, concife accounts are given, upon
Dr. Johnſon's original plan; which, happily for both himſelf and his readers, he relinquished; as it
would have conferred not much reputation on the writer, nor have communicated much information
to his 'readers. Accordingly, a few dates and facts are only ſet down, in the manner of the French
Notices Literaires, with occafionally a general character.
<
When fuch inconfiderable advances towards bringing forward to notice the older poets, were made
by thoſe who, from their fituation and influence, were beſt ſuited to the taſk; when our great poe-
tical biographer was not only remifs in reftoring them to popularity, but, by his neglect and fi-
lence, ſeemed to infinuate they were undeferving of it; the folicitude of the prefent editor for their
fate, and the attempt now made by him to do them that juflice which has been denied them by his
predeceffors, can require no apology.
In 1792, Mundell and Son, printers in Edinburgh, having refolved to republish the Collection of
English poetry, which goes under the name of Dr. Johnſon, in the manner of Dr. Knox's " Elegant
Extracts in Verfe," in fix volumes large octavo, he took occafion to recommend a collection, upon an
enlarged plan, which might unite the works of the ancient and modern poets in one comprehen-
Live view, and exhibit the progrefs of our national poetry, correſponding with the gradual refine-
ment of language and of manners, from the rudeneſs and fimplicity of a remote period, to the polith
and elegance of modern times.
The proprietors, with a liberal ſpirit of enterpriſe, worthy of an affociation of opulent bookſellers,
readily adopted the plan he recommended, though with ſome limitations as to the ancient poetry,
and refolved to extend their collection to twelve volumes, upon his promiſing to furniſh them with a
Biographical and Critical Preface to the works of each author; an undertaking in which he engaged
with more raſhnefs than prudence, amidſt cares and avocations of a far different and more important
nature, and without a fuitable provifion of materials,
The lift of the works of the older poets, which he originally recommended for republication, com-
prehended thoſe of Chaucer, Langland, Gower; the beſt parts of Lydgate, Barclay, Hawes; the beſt
parts of Skelton, Surrey, Wyat; the beft parts of Warner, Sydney, Sackville, Spenfer, Murlow, Davies,
Shakspeare, Drayton, Daniel, Jopfon, Donne, Hall, Drummond, Stirling, Browne, P. Fletcher, G.
Fletcher; the beſt parts of Quarles, King, Carew, Suckling, Craſhaw, Davenant, and the tranflations
of Fairfax, Sandys, and May. The works of the authors printed in Italics were, on due confide-
ration, omitted; it being thought fafer to allure curiofity into this unfrequented track of reading,
by a republication of the works of thoſe authors, who, though not either univerfally read or under-
ftood (as muſt ever be the cafe with the beſt elder poets of every country), are notwithſtanding fami-
liar to us in converfation, and conftantly appealed to in controverted points of poetical tafte, than to
run the risk of fuppreffing it totally, by a bulky republication of all or the better parts of the works
of thofe unfortunate authors, who ſtill remain unpopular, merely from the want of being read. The
claffical compofitions of Barbour, James I, Henry the Minstrel, Dunbar, Douglas and Lindſay, be-
ing written in the Scottish language, could not be received into an edition of English poetry.
The lift of the works of the modern poets which he originally recommended for republication,
comprehended the works of Marvell, C. Cotton, Sedley, Hopkins, Oldham, Pattifon, Hill, Eufden,
Walfed, Servell, Blair, Hamilton, Harte, Boyfe, Thompſon, Cooper, Brown, Grainger, Smollet,
Wilkie, Dodfley, Mendez, Jenner, Kirkpatrick, Smart, Bruce, Chatterton, Græme, Glover, Shaw,
Lovibond, Penrofe, Mickle, Jago, Scott, Logan, N. Cotton, and Blacklock. He was afterwards
obliged to abridge this lift, and to exclude the authors printed in Italics, on account of the arrange-
ents which the proprietors had made relative to the extent of the collection.
1
1
PREFACE.
Notwithſtarding thefe limitations, which, on the part of the editor, were unavoidable, it is with
fume degree of confidence, that he offers to public infpection a Collection of Engliſh poetry, which
contains the works of one hundred and fourteen authors, of whom forty-nine are not to be found in the
the laſt edition of the "Works of the English Poets," commonly called Dr. Johnfon's edition;
and forty-five are now, for the firſt time, received into an edition of Engliſh poetry.
In the works of the authors already collected, eſpecially the later authors, fome deficiencies have been
fupplied in the prefent edition. In the works of Langhorne, in particular, the additions are nu-
merous and important. They are fuch as a reader of Engliſh poetry will readily diſtinguiſh, and
therefore unneceffary to be pointed out.
Though the editor has exerted himſelf with confiderable attention, to render the works of the au-
thors now first collected, as complete as poffible; yet copies of Surrey's tranflation of the ſecond and
fourth books of the Eneid, Davies's Epigrams, P. Fletcher's Latin and Engliſh poem on the Jefuits
and Sicilides, a Pifcatory drama, Harte's Effay on Reafon, Shaw's Four Farthing Candles, Brown's Li-
berty, and fome pieces of other authors, have cluded his diligence. The works of Chatterton might
have been enlarged by additions from Mr. Barret's" Hiftory of Briſtol," and "Supplement to
Chatterton's Mifcellanies," which could not be obtained in due time. Gray's Sonnet on Sir William
Williams, Mickle's Prophecy of Queen Emma, Johnfon's Marmor Norfolienfe, and fome other little
pieces, happened to be overlooked at the preſs.
The editor does not wish to be underſtood as having performed more than he has actually done.
For the felection of the authors, he is folely refponfible. What pleafed himſelf he has ventured to re-
comracnd to others; a tafk of fuch difficulty requires the candid allowance of the reader, for the un-
avoidable differences of taſte and judgment. The recommendation of the proper editions of the
works to be reprinted, belonged to the editor; with the exception of the works of Chaucer, in the
firft volume, and the works of the feveral authors in the fifth volume, in which he had no concern.
For the correctnefs of the text, he is not anſwerable, as he had no concern in the reviſion of any
part of thefe volumes, except the Biographical and Critical Prefaces, and occafionally fome additions,
notes, and illuſtrations in the courfe of the work. The chronological arrangement which he recom-
mended has not been ſtrictly obferved, on account of the proportion which it was thought neceſſary
to obſerve, in the ſize of the volumes. The engraved title-page, bearing to be " A Complete Edi-
tion of the Poets of Great Britain," was improperly copied by the proprietors, in the first volume,
from Mr. Bell's edition, and retained in the ſubſequent volumes, for the fake of uniformity.
The
In fo complicated and extenfive a work, typographical errors may be expected to occur.
editor hopes they are not very nu….erous, and will, he thinks, be entitled to the pardon of every
candid reader. Several miſtakes of this kind, he is forry to acknowledge, remain uncorrected in his
part of the work, particularly in the Lives of Wilkie, Johnſon, and fome others in the eleventh volume,
which he defires may be attributed, not to neglect, but want of experience in affairs of this nature,
and to the precipitation with which the work proceeded through the prefs; all the Prefaces
having been written in little more than two years, and fent to the preſs, in portions, as they were
wanted, without any previous revifion.
There is one alteration in the prefent collection which the editor believes will need no apology.
This is the arrangement of the poetical tranflations of entire works in a feparate volume. To ren-
der the works of Homer and Pindar more complete, Mr. Hole's Hymn to Geres, and Mr. Pye's Six
Olympic Odes, are added to the tranflations of Pope and Wefl; and the deficiencies in Dryden's Ju-
venal are ſupplied by the verfions of thoſe who were originally affociated with him in that perform-
ance. A fupplemental volume of Tranſlations, making the thirteenth, has been printed, and another
is ftill wanting to complete the arrangement, with a volume of Fugitive Poetry.
Of the Lives here offered to the public, nearly one half have been already written by Dr. Johnſon,
with ſuch felicity of performance, that the editor might perhaps more properly have contented
himſelf with ſubjoining a few corrections and additions to his elegant narratives; but that new Lives
were thought neceffary to the uniformity of this collection.
As the undertaking was occafional and unforeſeen, Dr. Johnſon muſt be ſuppoſed to have engaged
it with leſs proviſion of materials than might have been accumulated by longer premeditation.
6
·
PREFACE.
Of the later writers, at leaf, he might, by attention and inquiry, have gleaned many particulars
which would have diverfified and enlivened his biography; but he was not actuated by an en-
thuſiaſm for his employment. He could not encounter wearinefs, perplexity, and difguft. The la-
bour of literature was a taſk from which he always wifhed to escape. From Spence's Collections,
communicated by the Duke of Newcaflle, he received great affiftance. In what he relates, though
there is, in many articles, little, except the manner in which it is told, that is new (a deficiency
which was not always in his power to remedy), yet his narration affords a luminous proof of the
vigour of his mind in all its faculties, whether memory, judgment, or imagination. What he has
to ſay on every ſubject is always worth hearing. Though the turn of his mind cannot be confider-
ed as peculiarly qualifying him for a critic of fubjects which require more imagination than judg-
ment, yet the luftre of his great mind feldom beamed on any thing, without lighting us to fome
new truth, latent trait of character, or peculiarity hitherto unobferved. Even the acrimony of his
poetical cenfures, is, in a great meaſure, compenfated by the force and originality of his reflections,
and the elegance and correctnefs of his language.
In the prefent undertaking, the editor has not the prefumption to fuppofe himfelf qualified to
complete what Dr. Johnfon has left unfiniſhed, nor the temerity to court a compariſon. Neither the
ftyle nor the manner are here the principal object of attention. With a view to popular information,
he has endeavoured to collect what is diffuſed, to glean in fpots which have been fometimes neglected,
and fometimes forgotten, and to relate with clearneſs and fimplicity, what is known of the perfonal
hiſtory and literary productions of each author, whofe works are affociated in this collection, digeſt-
ed in the form of a chronicle, fubjoining an eſtimate of his character, a critical examination of his
compofitions, and, by quotation, the teflimonies of contemporary writers, and the judgments of the
moft refpeclable critics.
In the courſe of this undertaking, he has endeavoured to avail himſelf of the various biographical
collections already in the hands of the public. Of theſe collections, it was neceſſary to form a right
idea, to felect from them whatever was conducive to his deſign, and carefully to avoid their errors,
at the ſame time that he preferved their excellencies. What uſe he has made of them will be obvi-
ous, as well as what is entirely his own.
In the Lives of the authors of a remote period, the inftances are numerous which ſtand in need of
emendations and corrections, for retrenching ſuperfluities, ſupplying deficiencies, and rectifying the
miſtakes in dates and facts, which may unintentionally have been committed, and tranfmitted from
writer to writer without examination. The editor has exerted himſelf, in this refpect, with confi-
derable attention.
In the Lives of the modern authors, eſpecially of thoſe lately deceaſed, of whom there are no writ-
ten memorials, the difficulty under which the editor laboured will be evident; from the want of pro-
per information, the prejudices of friends or admirers, the calumnies of enemies, and the fuggeftions
of envy, to which eminent characters are peculiarly liable. Time overcomes moſt of theſe impedi-
ments, except the firft, which it evidently, in many cafes, increaſes.
An accurate inveſtigation into the powers and varieties of the human mind, is of all ftudies
the moſt important; and a faithfel narration of the principles, conduct, and writings of emi-
nent men, might, perhaps, afford the furcit bafis for fuch refearches; but it is almoft unreaſonable to
expect from human intelle& and virtue, fufficient difcernment, difcrimination and impartiality, to
qualify for fo difficult and delicate a taſk.
As far as relates to himſelf, the editor has endeavoured, as much as poffible, to relate the circum-
ftances of the Lives of the authors from the moſt authentic information, and to give an account of
their writings with real impartiality. His aim has been to rife above narrow prejudices, and to re-
cord the vices and virtuès, the excellencies and defects of authors, with fidelity and freedom. The
well-known adage, de mortuis nil nifi bonum, feems to have been dictated by tenderneſs and humanity.
Errors are diminiſhed when once the grave has interpofed, and the good qualities are proportionably
magnified. The generous feelings add to the unwillingness to blame, and every liberal mind feels
it an act of cowardice to attack thoſe who cannot defend themſelves. The beſt propensities of the
human mind are thus engaged to repel cenfure and invite praife. Without violating the rights of
humanity, the wifh of the editor has been to ſpeak of the dead' with liberal, but not indifcriminate
}
+
PREFACE.
praife. Hence, truth, he trufts, will appear in its fairest garb, and impartiality appear almoſt like
praife.
In the repreſentation of facts, and the delineation of characters, the editor has endeavoured to do
full juſtice to the conduct and principles of men of every profeffion and party. But he apprehends
that a philofophical liberality of mind does not imply in it, that he has no fentiments of his own.
He fcruples not to declare his attachment to the great interefts of mankind, and his enmity to bi-
gotry, fuperftition, and tyranny. A work of this nature, that is conducted without any regard to
the chief privileges of human nature, without a philofophical liberality of mind, and without feel-
ings, efpecially of the moral kind, would be deprived of much of its utility-
With refpect to the ftrictures on the works of the various authors, the editor is far from being
over-anxious to make others adopt his fentiments. If erroneous criticifm may be fometimes fufpec-
ed, who can hope that, in matters of tafte, all fhall agree? He will think it fufficient, if his remarks
fhould engage the reader to review his own opinions, or recal his attention to fome latent beauty,
fome faſcinating line, or fome happy expreffion, which, on a firſt perufal, had eſcaped him. Where
he has prefumed to differ from the most refpectable authorities, he would be rather understood to
propofe a doubt than to offer a contradiction. If his praifes have been fometimes, as he fears they
have, too laviſhly beſtowed, he truſts, that the candid reader will aſcribe them to a folicitude which
made him more willing to recommend beauties than to expofe blemishes; rather earneſt to do juftice
to the author's merit, than to raiſe an admiration of his own judgment.
The obligations which the editor has received, have extended, in feveral cafes, to the communication
of entire articles, and to occafional affiflance: For the life of Spenfer, and the lives of Milion,
Cowley, Waller, Butler, and Denham, he is indebted to two gentlemen of learning and abilities,
who have not indulged him with the liberty of mentioning their names. They were folicited and
obtained by the proprietors, to expedite the publication, and never ſeen by the editor till they were
printed. He knows not whether any apology will be deemed needful for inferting them. They
are compofed, it muſt be acknowledged, with little care or diligence, and with a compendious bre-
vity, which, though compatible with accuracy of narration, and vigour of defcription, precludes a
critical account both of events and writings. As thefe articles comprehend fome of the first names
in English poetry, it is the intention of the editor to write them over again, for a feparate edition of
the Lives, corrected and enlarged, which it is in contemplation with the proprietors to publiſh.'
With refpect to occafional affiſtance, the editor has been favoured with various biographical infor-
mation concerning Moore, Blair, Wilkie, Bruce, and Logan, from the Rev. Mr. Toulmin of Tauntor,
the Rev. Dr. Robertfon of Dalmeny, the Rev. Dr. William Thomfon of London, the Rev. Dr.
Blair, the Rev. Dr. Baird, the Rev. Dr. Hardy, and Profeffor Dalzel of Edinburgh, to whom he
begs leave to make his acknowledgments. To all thefe gentlemen he esteems himſelf much indebted
for their kindnefs and attention. From them arifes the principal affiftance he has to boast of.
He has many reaſons to flatter himſelf, that his information would have been much enlarged from
other quarters, if a diffidence of his abilities for the undertaking had not deterred him from folici-
tation.
The editor cannot conclude, without an apology to the reader, which he is forry to be under the
neceflity of making. In his endeavours to render theſe volumes worthy of attention, he has been
thwarted by a fituation peculiarly unfavourable for fuch purſuits: the libraries of Oxford and Cam-
bridge, the British Mufeum, the repofitories, muſeums, and libraries of the curious, from whence
only adequate materials are to be drawn, he has had no acceſs to. His chief refource has been a
fmall private collection, and the libraries of the Univerfity, and of the Faculty of Advocates in
Edinburgh, neither of which is rich in old English literature.
The mention of thefe valuable repofitories naturally reminds the editor, that he ſhould be deficient
in gratitude, if he omitted to notice the readineſs with which he was allowed the free uſe of what-
ever they contained, for the fervice of this work.
The communication of fome ſcarce mifcellaneous collections, by Alexander Frafer Tytler, Efq. of
Woodhoufelee, Robert Arbuthnot, Efq. Secretary to the Truſtees for Fisheries, Manufactures and
and Improvements, and George Farquhar, Efq, of South Frederick-Street, the editor confiders as a
favour worthy of public acknowledgment.
$
PREFACE.
1
How far the prefent work is calculated to anſwer what the public has a right to demand, the
editor is afraid to reflect on. It was begun folely from public confiderations, without any regard
to perfonal advantage, and has been carried on through many difficulties, much ill health, and with
many real doubts of his ability to finish it in fuch a manner as to merit applaufe. He has not been
feduced by vanity, fo far as not to perceive the many errors and defects which will be found in his
part of theſe volumes. He is truly fenfible of them; but can, at the fame time, declare, they have
not been caused by any relaxation of his endeavours to render the work as perfect as he was able,
confiftent with his attention to more important avocations. Every work of this kind is, by its na-
ture, deficient. To thofe who may be diffatisfied with the manner in which it is conducted, he can
only ſay, that the undertaking appeared to him much eafier, before he engaged in it, than he found
afterwards in its progrefs through the prefs. He had but an imperfect conception of the difficulties
to be furmounted, the diſappointments to be incurred, the books to be procured and waited for, the
dates to be fettled, the facts to be afcertained, and the various irritating minutie of the prefs. He
may fafely rely on the candour of thoſe who have experienced the trouble and difficulty attending
fuch extenſive literary undertakings.
ነ
Whatever is the determination concerning it (though the ſubject is what he acknowledges him-
felf to feel fome anxiety about), the editor profeffes himſelf not to have the flightest inclination to
difpute the propriety of any cenfure which may be paffed on his labours, either in part or in the
whole. Perfectly fatisfied with the pleaſure he has received in the courfe of the work, he has no
expectation of emolument, or wifh for fame on account of his concern in it.
To do juſtice to neglected merit; to extend the honour of our national poctry, as far as poffible,
both abroad and at home; to enlarge, however little, the boundaries of literary biography and ele-
gant criticiſm; to ftrengthen and co-operate with the tafte for poetical antiquities, which, for ſome
time paft, has been confiderably advancing; to hold out an incentive to the love of fame and the
cultivation of the mind; to diverſify the materials of common reading, and to open fresh fources
of uſeful inſtruction and innocent amufement, arc ends which, though to attain be beyond his
powers, the honeſt ambition of the editor is ſomething gratified by the attempt alone.
ROBERT ANDERSON,
EDINBURGH,
November 25. 1795.
}
1
THE
POETICAL WORKS
O F
GEOFFREY CHAUCER,
SANTERBURY TALES,
ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE,
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE,
THE COURT OF LOVE,
THE COMPLAINT OF PITEE,
ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE
THE ASSEMBLEE OF FOULES,
Containing
THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT,
THE BOOK OF THE DUCHESSE,
CHAUCER'S A, B, C,
THE HOUSE OF FAME,
CHAUCER'S DREME,
THE FLOUR AND THE LEFE,
THE LEGENDE OF GOODE WOMEN,
THE COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS,
THE CUCKO0 and the NIGHTINGALE;
Tc. Ta. Jan
Te which is prefixed
THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.
Old CHAUCER, like the morning fiar,
To us difcovers day from far;
His light thofe mifts and clouds diffolv'd
Which our dark nation long involv'd;
But he deſcending to the fhades,
Darkneſs again the age invades.
DENHAM'S VERSES ON THE DEATH OF ĈOWLEY,
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY MUNDELL AND SON, ROYAL BANK CLOSE,
Anno 1793-
1.
THE LIFE OF CHAUCER.
In the beginning of the eleventh century, our vernacular poetry received from the Normans, the
rudiments of that cultivation which it has preferved to the preſent times.
In the two fucceeding centuries, the principal efforts of our yet untutored verfifiers, were rhyming
chronicles and metrical romances, the ſtyle of which was rough, and the harmony of the numbers
very defective.
In the reign of Edward I., the character of our poetical compofition was confiderably changed, by
the introduction and increaſe of the tales of chivalry, and the popular fables of the troubadours of
Provence.
Fictitious adventures were then fubftituted by the minstrels in the place of hiſtorical and tradi-
tionary facts, and a taſte for ornamental and exotic expreffion gradually prevailed over the rude fim-
plicity of the native Engliſh phraſeology.
Theſe fabulous narratives, afterwards enlarged by kindred fancies, derived from the crufades,
and enriched by the marvellous machinery of the Italian poets, formed the taſte, and awakened
the imagination of GEOFFREY CHAUCER, the illuftrious ornament of the reign of Edward III. and of
his fucceffor Richard II., the father of the English heroic verfe, and the firft English verfifier who
wrote poetically.
Of the great poet, with whofe compofitions this collection of claffical Engliſh poetry commences,
the curioſity which his reputation must excite, will require more ample information than can now
be given. His contemporaries, who reverenced his genius, recorded few particulars of his life;
and all who have fince written of him, relate nothing beyond what cafual mention, uncertain tra-
dition, and difcordant conjecture, have fupplied.
This meagre narration, therefore, fcarcely merits the title that is given to it; but the materials
for a fuller account are not to be found, without ſupplying the deficienty of facts by the comments
and inventions of his biographers, which have nothing to recommend them to credit but the fingle
circumſtance of being often repeated.
1
The birth of Chaucer, in 1328, has been fettled, from the infcription on his tomb-ftone, fignifying
that he died in 1400, in the 72d year of his age.
Of the place of his nativity there is no memorial, any more than of his parents. Bale ſays he was
a Berkſhireman; Pits would entitle Woodstock in Oxfordſhire to his birth; and Camden affirms that
London was his birth-place: "Edmund Spenfer," fays he, "a Londoner, was fo fmiled on by the
Mufes at his birth, that he excelled all the English poets that went before him, if we except only his
fellow citizen Chaucer." But Chaucer himſelf feems to have determined the point. In his Tefta
ment of Love, he calls himſelf a Londonois or Londoner, and ſpeaks of the city of London as the
place of his engendrure.
His deſcent has been variouſly affigned. Leland fays that he was of a noble ſtock; Pits, that he
was the ſon of a knight; Speght, that his father was a vintner; and Hearne, that he was a merchant.
This difference of opinion fhews, that nothing can be faid with any tolerable affurance of his
family; but the patronymic name feems to indicate, that it came originally from Normandy; and
there is fomewhat more probability of his being the ſon of a gentleman rather than of a tradefman☛*
3 2
iv
THE LIFE OP CHAUCER.
His biographers are as much in the dark about the place of his education. They tell us that he
received the rudiments of his education in Solere's Hall, Cambridge, where he wrote his Court of
Love;
and afterwards completed his fludies in Merton College, Oxford.
"
In his Court of Love, he ſpeaks of himſelf under the name and character of "Philogenet-
of Cambridge, Clerk This is by no means a decifive proof that he was really educated at Cam-
bridge; but it may be admitted as a ſtrong argument, that he was not educated at Oxford, as Le-
land has fuppofed, without the ſhadow of proof. The biographers, however, inftead of weighing
one of theſe accounts againſt the other, have adopted both, and tell us very gravely that he was
firft at Cambridge, and afterwards removed from thence to complete his education at Oxford.
1
After he left the univerſity, he is fuppofed to have added to his accompliſhments by travelling
into France and the Low Countries; but when he went abroad, or at what time he returned, are
circumſtances not determined.
His biographers agree. that on his return, he entered himſelf of the Inner Temple, and profecuted
for fome time the ſtudy of the law. Speght has given us a record in the Inner Temple (which he
fays a Mr. Buckley had feen), where "Geoffrey Chaucer was fined two fhillings, for beating a Fran-
ciſcan friar in Fleet-ftreet." It were to be wished that he had given the date. Leland fays, " Col-
legia Leguleiorum frequentavit, after his travels in France, and perhaps before." Theſe travels in France
reft entirely on the authority of Leland, whofe account is full of inconfiftencies.
He appears to have been early converfaht with the court, and particularly attached to the fervice
of the king's fon, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaſter, by whoſe favour he obtained in marriage
Philippa, daughter of Sir Payne, or Pagan Rouet, a native of Hainault, and fifter of the famous
Catherine Swynford, the duke's miſtreſs, and afterwards his wife.
As the credit of the Duke of Lancaſter increaſed with his father, Chaucer's alfo rofe in a like
proportion; and the livelineſs of his parts, and the native gaiety of his difpofition, rendered him a
very popular and acceptable character in the English court, at that time the moſt gay and ſplendid
in Europe.
That he had diſtinguiſhed himſelf before this time by his poetical performances, is almoſt certain;
and there is a tradition ſupported by fome paffages in his Dream, and Cukoo and Nightingale, that
when he attended the court at Woodſtock, he refided at a fquare ftone houfe near the park ftile,
which ftill retains his name..
*
The firſt authentic memorial of Chaucer, is the patent in Rymer, 41. Edward III. by which the
king grants to him an annuity of 20 marks, by the title of Valettus nofter. He was then in the 39th
year of his age. How long he had ſerved the king in that or any other ſtation, and what particular
merits were rewarded by this royal bounty, are points equally unknown. There is, however, no
ground for fuppofing that this mark of his Majefty's favour was a reward of Chaucer's poetical
merits. If it is confidered that a few years after (48 Edward III.), the king appointed him
Comptroller of the Wool, &c. in the port of London, with the following injunction in the patent:
"So that the ſaid Geoffrey write with his own hand his rolls, touching the faid office, and continually
refide there, and do and execute all things pertaining to the faid office in his own proper perfon,
and not by his fubftitute;"-it should fcem that Edward, though adorned with many royal and heroic
virtues, had not the gift of difcerning and patronizing a great poet: a gift which, like that of genuine
poetry, is only bestowed on the chofen few, by the peculiar favour of Heaven;
neque enim, nifi carus ab ortu
Diis fuperis, poterit magno fuiffe poetæ.
MILT. MANSUS.
From this time Chaucer is frequently mentioned in various public inftruments. In the 46. Eds
ward III., [Rymer] the king appoints him Envoy (with two others) to Genoa, by the title of Scutifer
ufter This embaſſy might probably have afforded him an opportunity of viſiting Petrarch at
Padua, where he tells us, in the prologue to the Clerkes Tale, he learned from him the ſtory of Gri-
feldis. Eut it is uncertain whether he ever went upon the embally; and the biographers of Petrarch,
who died the year following (1374), have not recorded the reverential viſit of the Engliſh envoy.
THE LIFE OF CHAUCER.
?
"Some write," fays Speght," that he, with Petrarke, was preſent at the marriage of Lionell Duke
of Clarence, with Violante, daughter of Galeafius Duke of Millain; yet Paulus Jovius nameth not
Chaucer, but Petrarke, he faycth, was there." It appears from an inftrument in Rymer [42. Edward
III.], that the Duke of Clarence paffed from Dover to Calais in his way to Milan, in the ſpring of
1638, with a retinue of 457 men and 1280 horſes. That Chaucer might have attended the Duke
upon this occafion, is not impoffible; but his name does not appear among the "Grandi Signori
Baroni Inghilefe," who were "Com. Meffere Lionell in compagnia" [Muratori]. In the 48. Ed-
ward III., he has a grant for life of a pitcher of wine daily [Rymer]. In the 49. Edward III. the king
grants to him the wardſhip of Sir Edmond Staplegate's heir [Rymer], for which he received 1041.;
and, in the next year, fome forfeited wool, to the value of 711. 4s. 6d. [Urr. Life of Cb.]. In the
laſt year of Edward III., he was ſent to France with Sir Guichard D'Angle and Richard Stan [or
Sturry], to treat of a marriage between Richard Prince of Wales, and a daughter of the French king
[Froiffart].
In the next year, 1. Richard II., his annuity of 20 marks was granted to him in lieu of the pitcher
of wine daily. In his Teftament of love, he alludes to the misfortunes brought upon him by his meddling
in the diſturbances which happened in London in the 7. Richard II. What the real defigns of John
Comberton, commonly called John of Northampton, and his party, were, and how a triffing city-riot
came to be treated as a rebellion, are points of great obfcurity. There is good ground to believe that
Comberton, in his endeavours to reform the city, according to the advice given by Wickliffe, was
countenanced by the Duke of Lancafter, which may account for Chaucer's engagement with
that party. When Chaucer fled to Holland, to avoid being examined in relation to theſe dif-
turbances (as he fays, Teft. of Love) he was probably fuperfeded in his office of Comptroller. It
is probable, too, that he was confirmed in it on his return, though the inftrument has not been pro-
duced. In the II. Richard II., he had the king's licenfe to furrender his two grants of 20 marks, in
favour of John Scalby. This furrender was probably occafioned by his diftreffed circumftances. In
the 13. Richard II., he appears to have been Clerk of the works at Weſtminſter, &c., and in the fol-
lowing year at Windfor. In the 17. Richard II. the king granted him a new annuity of 201
[Rymer.] If he was ever poffeffed of Dunnington Caſtle in Berkſhire (as his biographers ſuppoſe), he
muſt have purchaſed it about this time; for it appears to have been in the poffeffion of Sir Richard
Adderbury, in the 17. Richard II. [Monaft. Ang. ii. 474]. But there is no proof of any fuch pur-
chafe; and the fituation of his affairs makes it highly improbable. The tradition of an oak in Dun-
nington park, called Chaucer's oak, may be fufficiently accounted for, without fuppofing that it was
planted by Chaucer himſelf, as the caſtle was undoubtedly in the poffeffion of Thomas Chaucer, whe
is fuppofed to be his fon, for many years.
In the 21. Richard II. the king granted him his protection for two years [Rymer]; and in 22, a
pipe of wine annually (ibid]. In the next year, the 1. Henry IV., his two grants of the annuity of
20 1., and of the pipe of wine, were confirmed to him [Rymer]; and at the fame time, he had an ad-
ditional grant of 40 marks, [ibid]. It appears that he received an annuity of 10 marks on account
of his wife. He died, according to the infcription on his tombſtone, in the 2. Henry IV., on the
25th of October 1400, and was buried in Weſtminſter Abbey. A monument was erected to his
memory in 1556, by Mr. Nicholas Brigham of Oxford, upon which he cauſed his picture to be
painted, from the original of Occleve, in the illuminated manufcript of his treatiſe De regimine
Principis, together with the following infcription, which ſtill remains.
M.S.
T
Qui fecit Anglorum vates nofter maximus olim.
GALFRIDUS CHAUCER Conditur hoc tumulo:
Annum fi quæras Domini, fi tempora vitæ,
Ecce notæ fubfunt quæ tibi cuncta notunt.
25 Odobris 1400.
Ærumnarum requies mors.
N. Irigham hos fecit Mufarum nomine fumptus,
1550.
1
vi
THE LIFE OF CHAUCER
Thefe are the principal facts in Chaucer's life, which are atteſted by authentic evidences. In his
Treatife on the Aftrolabe, he informs us that he had a fon called Lewis, who was ten years of age in
1391. There is no account in what ftation he lived, or when he died. The relation of Thomas
Chaucer to him has not been afcertained. Speght fays, "that fome held opinion, that Thomas
Chaucer was not the fon of Geoffrey ;" and there are certainly many circumstances which render
that opinion probable. He married Maude, daughter of Sir John Burgherfhe, refided chiefly at
Ewelm in Oxfordſhire, paffed through feveral public ftations, and died on the 28th of April 1434-
The poetical compofitions of Chaucer, particularly his, Canterbury Tales, obtained him the higheſt
place of diftinction among his contemporaries.. The tales, it is probable, were compofed at differ-
ent periods of his life. He connected them together in that admirable dramatic ftructure in which
they are at prefent, about the year 1383. They were first printed by our meritorious countryman
William-Caxton, the firſt Engliſh printer, as Ames fuppofes, about 1475 or 1476, and again in 1491.
Subfequent editions were printed by Wynken de Worde, in 1495, and by Pynfon in 1491, and 1526,
which was the first that included his miſcellaneous pieces. The next edition was printed by Godfrey
in: 1532, with Mr. William Thynne's dedication. to Henry VIII., and a great number of pieces never
before published. This edition was many times reprinted, as the ftandard edition of Chaucer's
works, till the appearance of the editions of Stowe and Speght in 1561, 1597, and 1602; and of
the edition undertaken by Urry, which was publiſhed fome years after his death, in 121, with a
preface by Mr. Timothy: Thomas. An edition of the Canterbury Tales was publiſhed by Thomas
Tyrwhitt, Efq, in 4 vols. 8vo, 1775, to which was added, in 1778, a fifth volume, containing an
"Effay on the Language and Verfification of Chaucer," an Introductory Difcourfe to the Caster-
Bury Tales, and“ a Gloffary,”
The prefent edition of the Canterbury Tales. is printed from Tyrwhitt's incomparable edition,
and his learned and valuable Gloffary is copied with little variation, except in the omiffion of the
numerical references. The Plowman's Tale, Tale of Gamelyn, Adventure of Pardoner and Tapefler ›
and the Merchant's fecond Tale, omitted by Tyrwhitt, have been retained, though all evidence,
internal and external, is against the fuppofition of their being the production of Chaucer.
The genuine mifcellaneous pieces of Chaucer are printed from Urry's edition, exclufive of thoſe
pieces which are known to be the production of other authors, and the anonymous compofitions,
which, from time to time, have been added to Chaucer's, in the feveral editions, without any evi-
dence whatever. Befides thefe more confiderable works, it appears that he had compofed many
Balades, Roundels, Virelays, and that he had made many a Lay and many a Thing. A few pieces of
this fort are ftill extant, and inſerted here as they ftand in the editions.
The works of Chaucer in profe are, a tranflation of Boethius de confolatione Philofophia, which
he has mentioned himself in the Legende of Goode Women, A Treatise on the Aftrolabe, addreffed
to his fon Lewis in 1391, and the Teflament of Love, which is evidently an imitation of Boethius
Confolatione Philofophie.
The private character of Chaucer appears to have been as refpectable as his literary character
was truly illuftrious. In his manners he was mild and gentle; in his difpofition he was open and'
ingenuous. He was a fine gentlemen, an agreeable companion, and a learned writer. His con-
temporaries and diſciples, Gower, Occleve, and Lydgate, are laviſh in his praife. With Wickliffe, the
father of the Reformation, he concurred in fentiments of religion, and co-operated in his moft va-
luable defigns; fo natural is the connection between genius and the love of liberty.
On the literary character of Chaucer it is the lefs neceffary to enlarge, as it has within theſe few
years been ſo accurately and amply diſplayed by Mr. Warton, the learned hiſtorian of the Engliſh
poetry, whoſe death is an irreparable loſs to Engliſh literature, and Mr. Tyrwhitt, whoſe edition of
the Canterbury Tales is the moſt curious, erudite, and valuable publication that has yet appeared in this
country.
Chaucer is uſually characteriſed as the Reformer of the English language, and the father of Eng-
lifh poetry.
He undoubtedly critically cultivated his native tongue, that he might reform its irre-
gularities, and eſtabliſh an Engliſh ſtyle; and he was certainly the firſt perſon in England to whom
the appellation of a poet, in its genuine luftre, could be applied. He has attempted every ſpe-
THE LIFE OF CHAUCER.
VIY
cies of poetry, from an epigram to an epic pocm, and has fucceeded in all. If, however he appears
pre-eminent in any one poetical department, in 13 111 ilio dufosip……--- The Canterbury Tales.
his greateſt production, exhibit a wonderful variety of talents; for they abound with the fublime and
the pathetic, with admirable fatire, genuine humour, and an uncommon knowledge of life. They
were probably compofed in imitation of the " Decanicron" of Boccace, though upon a different and
improved plan. The general plan may be learned from the prologue he has prefixed to them. He
fuppofes there, that a company of pilgrims going to Canterbury, affemble at an inn in Southwark,
and agree, that for their common amufement on the road, each of them fhall tell at leaſt one tale
in going to Canterbury, and another in coming back from thence; and that he who fhall tell the
beſt tales, ſhall be treated by the reft with a ſupper, upon their return to the fame inn. It appears
alſo that he deſigned to defcribe their journey, and all the remenant of their pilgrimage, including
probably their adventures at Canterbury, as well as upon the road; but this extenfive and difficult
undertaking has been left imperfect; and more than one half of the tales he intended to give
is wanting. The characters of the pilgrims are as various as at that time could be found in the de-
partments of middle life; and the ſtories are exactly fuited to their characters, and clearly evince, that
Chaucer, notwithſtanding the aids he derived from his acquaintance with Italian literature, was
poffeffed of a noble invention, and a fruitful imagination.
The Knight's Tale, The Wefe of Bath's Tale, Tale of the Nun's Priest, Flower and the Lcfe, and The
Character of a Good Parfon, have been thought worthy of imitation and revival by Dryden, whoſe
paraphrafes, particularly of the Knight's Tale, and of the Flower and the Leaf, are the moſt animated
and harmonious pieces of verfification in the Engliſh language. Pope has imitated the Merchant's
Tale, The Wife of Bath's Prologue, and The House of Fame, with his ufual elegance of diction and
harmony of verſification. Mr. Betterton has tranflated the Reve's Tale and the Characters of the Pil-
grims; and a collection of "The Canterbury Tales Modernized," was publiſhed by Mr. Ogle, in
3 vol. 8vo, 1741.
The Squier's Tale is confidered by Mr. Warton as Chaucer's capital poem ; and he has admirably
explained the origin of the fictions with which it abounds. With like ingenuity and learning he
illuftrates the various poems of Chaucer; and with regard to thoſe which had a foreign original,
fhews how far the productions which gave rife to them have been copied, altered, and improved.
The compariſon turns out in many refpects to the advantage of the Engliſh poet.
"Chaucer," fays he, "was a man of the world; and from this circumftance we are to account,
in a great meaſure, for the many new embelliſhments conferred on our poetry. The defcriptions
of fplendid proceffions and gallant caroufals, with which his works abound, are a proof that he was
converfant with the practice and diverfions of polite life. His travels likewife enabled him to cul-
tivate the Italian and Frovençal poetry with the greateſt ſucceſs, and induced him to polifh the af-
perity, and enrich the fterility of his native verfification, with fofter cadences, and a more copious
and variegated phraſeology.”
Concerning the licentious paffages that are to be met with in Chaucer's poems, the fame ingenious
and learned writer obferves, that they are in a great meaſure to be imputed to the age in which
they were written. "We are apt," fays he, "to form romantic and exaggerated notions about
the moral innocence of our anceſtors. Ages of ignorance and fimplicity are thought to be ages of
purity. The direct contrary I believe is the cafe. Rude periods have that groffneſs of manners,
which is not lefs friendly to virtue than luxury itſelf. In the middle ages, not only the moſt flagrant
violations of modefty were frequently practifed and permitted, but the most infamous vices. Men
are lefs afhamed as they are leſs poliſhed. Great refinement multiplies criminal pleaſures, but at the
fame time prevents the actual commiffion of many enormities, at leaſt it preferves public decency,
and fuppreffes public licentiouſneſs."
In delineating Chaucer's talent for humour, Mr. Warton agrees with Dr. Hurd, who, in his
"Letters on Chivalry,” ſuppoſes that the Rime of Sir Thopas, was intended to expoſe the leading
absurdities of the old romance. That this was Chaucer's aim appears from many paffages taken
viii
THE LIFE OF CHAUCER.
from Iſambras, Libeans Defconus, and other romances, in the fame ſtyle, which are fill extant; and
therefore the pala—y-joñtry to cancu a prelude to Don Quixotte.
From Mr. Warton's furvey of the poems of Chaucer, theſe conclufions are deduced concerning
him:-That in cultivation and elegance, in harmony and perfpicuity of verfification, he ſurpaſſes hie
predeceffors in an infinite proportion; that his genius was univerfal, and adapted to themes of un-
bounded variety; that his merit was not lefs in painting familiar manners with humour and proprie-
ty, than in moving the paffions, and in reprefenting the beautiful, or the grand objects of nature,
with grace and fublimity; and that he appeared with all the luftre of a true poet, in an age which
compelled him to ſtruggle with a barbarous language, and a national want of taſte; and when to
write verses at all was a fingular qualification.
-
1
THE CANTERBURY TALES.
-
THE PROLOGUE.
WHANNE that April with his fhoures fote
The droughte of March hath perced to the rote,
And bathed every veine in ſwiche licour,
Of whiche vertue engendred is the flour;!
Whan Zephirus eke with his fote brethe
Enfpired hath in every holt and hethe
The tendre croppes, and the yonge fonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,
And fmale foules maken melodie,
That ſlepen alle night with open eye,
So priketh hem nature in hir corages,
Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to ſeken ftrange ftrondes,
To ferve halwes couthe in fondry londes ;
And ſpecially from every fhire's ende
Of Englelond to Canterbury they wende,
The holy blissful martyr for to ſeke
But natheles while I have time and ſpace,
Or that I forther in this tale pace,
Me thinketh it accordant to reſon
To tellen you alle the condition
Of eche of hem, ſo as it femed me,
And whiche they weren, and of what degre,
And eke in what araie that they were inne;
And at a knight than wol I firfte beginne.
A Knight ther was, and that a worthy manj
That fro the time that he firſte began
To riden out, he loved chivalrie,
Trouthe and honour, fredom and curtefie.
Ful worthy was he in his lordes werra,
And therto hadde he ridden, no man ferre
As well in Cristendom as in Hetheneffe,
And ever honoured for his worthineffe.
At Alifandre he was whan it was wonne
That hem hath holpen whan that they were feke. Ful often time he hadde the bord begonne †
Befelle that in that fefon on a day,
In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay,
Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with devoute courage,
At night was come into that hoftelrie
Wel nine-and-twenty in a compagnie
Of fondry folk, by aventure yfalle
In felawfhip, and pilgrimes were they alle
That toward Canterbury wolden ride.
The chambres and the ftables weren wide,
And wel we weren efed atte befte.
And ſhortly when the fonne was gon to refte,
So hadde I ſpoken with hem everich on,
That I was of hir felawſhip anon,
And made forword erly for to riſe,
To take oure way ther, as I you devife.
VOL. I.
Aboven alle nations in Pruce :
In Lettowe hadde he reyfed and in Ruce,
No Criften man fo ofte of his degre:
In Gernade at the fiege eke hadde he be
Of Algefir, and ridden in Belmarie :
At Leyes was he, and at Satalie,
Whan they were wonne; and in the Grete Se
At many a noble armee hadde he be.
At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene,
And foughten for our faith at Tramiffene
In liftes thries, and ay flain his fo.
This ilke worthy Knight hadde ben alſo
* Alexandria in Egypt was won (and immediately after
abandoned) in 1365 by Pierre de Lufignan King of Cy-
prus.
He had been placed at the head of the table, the ufu-
al compliment to extraordinary merit, as the commenta
tors very propery explain it
A
સ
PROLOGU E.
THE
Some time with the Lord of Palatie*
Agen another Hethen in Turkie,
And evermore he hadde a fovereine pris,
And though that he was worthy, he was wife,
And of his port as meke as is a mayde.
He never yet no vilanie ne fayde
In alle his lif unto no manere wight:
He was a veray parfit gentil Knight.
But for to tellen you of his araie,
His hors was good, but he ne was not gaie.
Of fuftian he wered a gipon
Alle befmotred with his habergeon,
For he was late ycome fro his viage,
And wente for to don his pilgrimage.
With him ther was his fone, a yonge Squier,
A lover and a lufty bacheler,
With lockes crull as they were laide in preffe ;
Of twenty yere age he was, I geffe.
Of his ftature he was of even lengthe,
And wonderly deliver, and grete of ftrengthe;
And he hadde be fometime in chevachie
In Flaurders, in Artois, and in Picardie,
And borne him wel, as of fo litel fpace,
In hope to ftonden in his ladies grace.
Embrouded was he, as it were a međe
Alle full of fresfhe floures white and rede:
Singing he was or floyting alle the day :
He was as fresfhe as is the moneth of May :
Short was his goune, with fleves long and wide;
Wel coude he fitte on hors, and fayre ride :
He coude fonges make, and wel endite.
Jufte and eke dance, and wel pourtraie and write:
So hote he loved, that by nightertale
He flep no more than doth the nightingale :
Curteis he was, lowly and ferviſable,
And carf before his fader at the table.
A Teman hadde he, and fervantes no mo
At that time, for him lufte to ride ſo,
And he was cladde in cote and hode of grene;
A fhefe of peacock arwes bright and kene
Under his belt he bare full thriftily :
Wel coude he dreffe his takel yemanly:
His arwes drouped not with fetheres lowe,
And in his hond he bare a mighty bowe.
A not-hed hadde he, with a broune viſage :
Of wood-craft coude he wel alle the uſage:
Upon his arme he bare a gaie bracer,
And by his fide a fwerd and a bokeler,
And on that other fide a gaie daggere,
Harneifed wel, and harp as point of fpere:
A Criftofre on his breft of filver fhene,
An horne he bare, the baudrik was of grene:
A forſter was he fothely, as I geffe.
Ther was alſo a Nonne, a Prioreſſe,
That of hire ſmiling was ful fimple and coy,
Hire greteft othe n'as but by Seint Eloy,
And he was cleped Madanı Eglentine;
Ful wel fhe fange the fervice devine,
Entuned in hire nofe ful fwetely;
And Frenche fhe fpake ful fayre and fetiſly,
After the fcole of Stratford atte Bowe,
For Frenche of Paris was to hire unknowe:
At mete was the wel ytaughte withalle,
She lette no morfel from hire lippes falle,
*Palatha in Anatolia,
:
Ne wette hire fingres in hire fauce depe;
Wel coude ſhe carie a morfel, and wel kepe,
Thatte no drope ne fell upon hire breſt:
In curtefie was fette ful nroche hire left :
Hire over lippe wiped fhe fo clene,
That in hire cuppe was no ferthing fene
Of grefe when the dronken hadde hire draught;
Full femely after hire mete ſhe raught:
And fikerly fhe was of grete diſport,
And ful pleaſant and amiable of port,
And peined hire to contrefetan chere
Of court and ben eftatelich of manere,
And to ben holden digne of reverence.
But for to fpeken of hire confcience,
She was fo charitable and fo pitous
She wolde wepe if that fhe faw a mous
Caughte in a trappe if it were ded or bledde.
Of fmale houndes hadde fhe, that ſhe fedde
With roſted fleſh, and milk, and waſtel brede,
But fore wept fhe if on of hem were dede,
Or if men fmote it with a yerde fmert;
And all was confcience and tendre herte.
Ful femely hire wimple ypinched was,
Hire nofe tretis, hire eyen grey as glas;
Hire mouth full fmale, and therto ſoft and red;
But fikerly ſhe hadde a fayre forehed :
It was almoſt a ſpanne brode I trowe,
For hardily fhe was not undergrowe.
Ful fetife was hire aloke, as I was ware.
Of fmale corall aboute hire arm the bare
A pair of bedes gauded all with grene,
And thereon heng a broche of gold ful fhene
On whiche was firſt ywritten a crouned A,
And after Amor vincit omnia.
Another Nonne alfo with hire hadde fhe
That was hire chapelleine, and Preeftés thre.
A Monk ther was, a fayre for the maiſtrie,
An out-rider that loved venerře ;
A manly man to ben an abbot able
Ful many a deinte hors hadde he in ftable,
And whan he rode, men mighte his bridel here
Gingeling in a whiſtling wind, as clere
And eke as loude as doth the chapell belle
Ther as this lord was keper of the celle.
The reule of Seint Maure and of Seint Beneit
Becauſe that it was olde and fondele ſtreit,
This ilke monk lette olde thinges pace,
And helde after the newe world the trace.
He yave not of the text a pulled hen
That faith that hunters ben not holy men,
Nc that a monk whan he is rekkeles
Is like to a fish that is waterles;
This is to fay, a monk out of his cloiſtre;
This ilke text held he not worth an oiftre;
And I fay his opinion was good.
What! fhulde he ftudie and make himſelver wood,
Upon a book in cloiftre alway to pore,
Or fwinken with his hondes, and laboure,
As Auftin bit? how fhal the world be ferved?
Let Auſtin have his fwink to him referved:
Therfore he was a prickafoure a right.
Greihoundes he hadde as fwift as foul of flight.
Of pricking and of hunting for the hare
Was all his luft; for no coft wolde he ſpare.
I faw his fleves purfiled at the hond
With gris, and that the fineft of the lond;
3
I
THE
{
PROLOGUE.
And for to faften his hood under his chinne
He hadde of gold ywrought a curious pinne;
A love-knotte in the greter ende ther was:
His hed was balled, and fhone as any glas;
And eke his face, as it hadde ben anoint;
He was a lord ful fat, and in good point:
His eyen ſtepe, and rolling in his hed,
That ftemed as a forneis of a led;
His bootes fouple, his hors in gret eſtat;
Now certainly he was a fayre prelat :
He was not pale as a forpined goſt;
A fat fwan loved he beſt of any roft:
His palfrey was as broune as is a bery.
A Frere ther was, a wanton and a mery,
A limitour, a ful ſolempné man :
In all the ordres foure is non that can
So moche of daliance and fayre langage.
He hadde ymade ful many a mariage
Of yonge wimmen at his owen coſt;
Until his ordre he was a noble poſt.
Ful wel beloved and familier was he
With frankeleins over all in his contree,
And eke with worthy wimmen of the Toun,
For he had power of confeffion,
As faide himfelfe, more than a curat,
For of his ordre he was a licenciat.
Ful fwetely herde he confeffion,
And plefant was his abſolution.
He was an efy man to give penance
Ther as he wifte to han a good pitance,
For unto a poure ordre for to give
Is figne that a man is wel yfhrive;
For if he gave he dorſte make avant
He wifte that a man was repentant;
For many a man fo hard is of his herte,
He may not wepe although him fore ſmerte;
Therfore in ftede of weping and praieres
Men mote give filver to the poure freres.
His tippet was ay farfed ful of knives
And pinnes for to given fayre wives :
And certainly he hadde a mery note;
Wel coude he finge and plaien on a rote.
Of yeddinges he bare utterly the pris;
His nekke was white as the flour de lis;
Therto he ſtrong was as a champioun,
And knew wel the tavernes in every toun,
And every hofteler and gay tapftere,
Better than a lazar or a beggere;
For unto fwiche a worthy man as he
Accordeth nought, as by his faculte
To haven with fike lazars acquaintance:
It is not honeft, it may not avance,
As for to delen with ro fwiche pouraille,
But all with riche and fellers of vitaille.
And over all, ther as profit fhuld arife
Curteis he was, and lowly of ſerviſe :
Ther n'as no man no wher fo vertuous;
He was the befte begger in all his hous,
And gave a certaine ferme for the grant
Non of his bretheren came in his haunt :
For though a widewe hadde but a fhoo,
(So plefant was his In principio)
*This word, being not understood, has been changed
in fome copies into Tidinges and weddinges. It probably
means a kind of fong, from the Saxon geddian or giddian,
Coling.
Yet wold he have a ferthing or he went;
His pourches was wel better than his rent :
And rage he coude as it hadde ben a whelp;
In lovedayes ther coude be mochel help ;
For ther was he nat like a cloisterere,
With thredbare cope, as is a poure ſcolere,
But he was like a maiſter or a pope :
Of double worfted was his femicope,
That round was as a belle out of the preffe.
Somwhat he lifped for his wantonneffe
To make his Engliſh fwete upon his tonge;
And in his harping, whan that he hadde fonge
His eyen twinkeled in his hed aright
As don the fterres in a frosty night.
This worthy limitour was cleped Huberd.
A Merchant was ther with a forked berd;
In mottelee, and highe on hors he fat,
And on his hed a Faundrish bever hat.
His bootes clapfed fayre and fetiſly;
His refons fpake he ful folempnely,
Souning alway the encrefe of his winning:
He wold the fee were kept * for any thing
Betwixen Middelburgh and Orewell.
Wel coud he in efchanges fheldes felle.
This worthy man ful wel his wit befette;
Ther wifte no wight that he was in dettè,
So ftedefaftly didde he his governance
With his bargeines and with his chevifance.
Forfothe he was a worthy man withalle,
But foth to fayn I n'ot how men him calle.
A Clerk ther was of Oxenford alfo,
That unto logike hadde long ygo.
As lene was his hors as is a rake,
And he was not right fat I undertake,
But loked holwe, and therto foberly.
Ful thredbaré was his overest courtepy,
For he hadde geten him yet no benefice,
Ne was nought worldly to have an office;
For him was lever han at his beddes hed
Twenty bokes clothed in blake or red
Of Ariftotle and his philofophie
Then robes riche, or fidel or fautrie:
But all be that he was a philofophre
Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre,
But all that he might of his frendes hente
On bokes and on lerning he it ſpente,
And befily gan for the foules praie
Of hem that yave him wherwith to fcolaie.
Of ftudie toke he mofte cure and hede;
Not a word fpake he more than was nede,
And that was faid in forme and reverence,
And Thort and quike, and ful of high ſentence:
Souning in moral vertue was his fpeche,
And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche.
A Sergeant of the Lawe ware and wife,
That often hadde yben at the paruis,
Ther was alfo, ful riche of excellence;
Difcrete he was, and of grete reverence;
He femed fwiche, his words were fo wife
Juftice he was ful often in aflife
By patent and by pleine commiffioun :
For his fcience and for his high renoun
Y.
* i. e. guarded. The old fubfidy of tonnage or poundage
was given to the king "pur la faufgarde et custodia de
mer,” 14 Edw. IV, ¢. §.
Ajj
}
4
PROLOGU E.
THE
Of fees and robes had he many on :
So grete a pourchaſour was no wher non:
All was fee fimple to him in effect,
His pourchafing might not ben in fuſpect :
No wher fo befy a man as he ther n'as,
And yet he femed befier than he was.
In termes hadde he cas and domes alle
That fro the time of King Will, weren falle;
Therto he coude endite and make a thing;
Ther coude no wight pinche at his writing;
And every ſtatute coude he plaine by rote.
He rode but homely in a medlee cote
Girt with a feint of filk with barres fmale.
Of his array tell I no lenger tale.
A Frankelein was in this compagnie;
White was his berd as is the dayefie:
Of his complexion he was fanguin;
Wel loved he by the morwe a ſop in win:
To liven in delit was ever his wone,
For he was Epicure's owen fone,
That held opinion that plein delit
Was veraily felicite parfite.
And houtholder, and that a grete was he;
Seint Julian he was in his contree.
His brede, his ale, was alway after on;
A better envyned man was no wher non.
Withouten bake mete never was his hous
Of fish and flesh, and that fo plenteous
It fnewed in his houfe of mete and drinke
Of alle deintees that men coud of thinke.
After the fondry fefons of the yere
So changed he his mete and his foupere.
Ful many a fat patrich hadde he in mewe,
And many a breme, and many a luce in ftewe.
Wo was his coke but if his fauce were
Poinant and fharpe, and redy all his gere.
His table dormant in his halle alway
Scode redy covered alle the longc day.
At feffions there was he lord and fire;
Full often time he was knight of the fhire.
An anelace and a gipciere all of filk
Heng at his girdel white as morwe milk.
A fhereve hadde he ben and a countour;
Was no wher fwiche a worthy vavafour *.
An Haberdasher, and a Carpenter,
A. Webbe, a Deyer, and a Tapifer,
Were alle yclothed in o livere
Of a folempne and gretc fraternite.
Ful freſhe and newe hir gere ypiked was;
Hir knives were ychaped not with bras,
But all with filver wrought ful clene and wel,
Hir girdeles and hir pouches every del:
Wel femed eche of hem a fayre burgcis
To fitten ina gild halle on the deis:
Everich for the wifdom that he can
Was fhapelich for to ben an alderman.
For catel hadden they ynough and rent,
And eke hir wives wolde it wel affent;
And elles certainly they were to blame :
It is ful fayre to ben yeleped Madame,
The precife import of this word is often as obfcure as
its original. Sec Du Cange in v. In this place it thould per-
haps be understood to mean the whole clafs of middling
Jandholders.
And for to gon to vigiles all before,
And have a mantel reallich ybore.
A Coke they hadden with hem for the nones,
To boile the chikenes and the marie bones,
And poudre marchant, tart and galing ale.
Wel coude he knowe a draught of London ale.
He coude rofte, and ſethe, and broile, and frie,
Maken mortrewes, and wel bake a pie;
But gret harm was it, as it thoughte me,
'That on his fhinne a mormal hadde he.
For blanc manger that made he with the beft.
A Shipman was ther woned fer by weft;
For ought I wote he was of Dertemouth;
He rode upon a rouncie, as he couthe,
All in a goune of falding to the knee.
A dagger hanging by a las hadde hee
About his nekke under his arm adoun;
The hote fommer hadde made his hewe all broun :
And certainly he was a good felaw;
Ful many a draught of win he hadde draw
From Burdeux ward while that the chapmen flepe:
Of nice conſcience toke he no kepe.
If that he faught and hadde the higher hand,
By water he fent hem home to every land.
But of his craft to reken wel his tides,
His ftremes and his ſtrandes him befides,
His herberwe, his mone, and his lodemanage,
Ther was non fwiche from Hull unto Cartage.
Hardy he was, and wife, I undertake;
With many a tempeft hadde his berd be fhake:
He knew wel alle the havens as they were
Fro Gotland to the Cape de Finiftere,
And every creke in Bretagne and in Spaine :
His barge ycleped was the Magdelaine.
With us ther was a Dolour of Phifike;
In all this world ne was ther non him like
To fpeke of phifike and of ſurgerie,
For he was grounded in aftronomie.
He kept his patient a ful gret del
In houres by his magike naturel :
Wel coude he fortunen the afcendent
Of his images for his patient.
He knew the caufe of every maladie,
Were it of cold, or hote, or moiſt, or drie,
And wher engendred, and of what humour:
He was a veray parfite practifour.
The cauſe yknowe, and of his harm the rote,
Anon he gave to the fike man his bote.
Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries
To fend him dragges and his lettuaries,
For eche of hem made cther for to winne
Hir frendfhip n'as not newe to beginne.
Wel knew he the old Efculapius,
And Diofcorides and cke Rufus,
Old Hippocras, Hali, and Gallien,
Serapion, Rafis, and Avicen,
Averrois, Damafcene, and Conftantin,
Bernard, and Gatifden, and Gilbertin.
Of his diete mefurable was he;
For it was of no fuperfluitee,
But of gret nourishing and digeflible;
His ftudie was but litel on the Bible.
In fonguin and in perfe he clad was alle
Lined with taffata and with fendalle.
THE
+
PROLOGUE
And yet he was but efy of difpence ;
He kepte that he wan in the peftilence;
For gold in phifike is a cordial,
Therfore he loved gold in fpecial.
A good Wif was ther of befide Bathe,
But fhe was fom del defe, and that was fcathe.
Of cloth making ſhe hadde ſwiche an haunt,
Sle paffed hem of Ipres and of Gaunt.
In all the pariſh wif ne was ther non
The to the offring before hire fhulde gon,
And if ther did, certain fo wroth was the,
That she was out of alle charitee,
Hire coverchiefs weren ful fine of ground;
I dorfte fwere they weyeden a pound
That on the Sonday were upon hire hede:
Hire hoſen weren of fine fcarlet rede,
Ful ftreite yteyed, and ſhoon ful moiſt and newe:
Bold was hire face, and fayre and rede of hew.
She was a worthy woman all hire live;
Houſbondes at the chirche dure had ſhe had five,
Withouten other compagnie in youthe,
But therof nedeth not to fpeke as nouthe;
And thries hadde fhe ben at Jerufaleme;
She hadde paffed many a ftrange ftreme:
At Rome ſhe hadde ben, and at Boloine,
In Galice at Seint James, and at Coloine:
She coude moche of wandring by the way;
Gat-tothed was fhe, fothly for to ſay;
Upon an ambler efily fhe fat,
Ywimpled wel, and on hire hede an hat
As brode as is a bokeler or a targe,
A fote mantel about hire hippes large,
And on hire fete a pair of fporres fharpe.
In felawſhip wel coude fhe laughe and carpe;
Of remedies of love the knew parchance,
For of that arte fhe coude the olde dance.
A good man ther was of religioun
That was a pcure Parfone of a toun,
But riche he was of holy thought and werk;
He was alfo a lerned man, a Clerk,
That Criftes gofpel trewely wolde preche;
His pariſhens devoutly wolde he teche;
Benigne he was, and wonder diligent,
And in adverſite ful patient,
4
And ſwiche he was ypreved often fithes;
Ful loth were him to curfen for his tithes,
But rather wolde he yeven out of doute
Unto his poure parifhens aboute
Of his offring, and eke of his fubftance;
He coude in lite thing have fuffifance :
Wide was his parish, and houſes fer afonder,
But he ne left nought for no rain ne thonder,
In fikencffc and in mifchief to vifite
The ferreft in his parish moche and lite
Upon his fete, and in his hand a ſtaf :
This noble enfample to his fhepe he yaf,
That firft he wrought and afterward he taught,
Out of the gospel he the wordes caught,
And this figure he added yet thereto
That if gold rufte, what fuld iren do
For if a preeft be foule on whom we truft
No wonder is a lewed man to ruft;
And fhame it is if that a precft take kepe
To fee a fhitten fhepherd and clene here:
Wel ought a precſt enſample for to yeve
By his cleneneffe how his fhepe fhulde live.
He fette not his benefice to hire,
And lette his fhepe accombred in the mire,
And ran unto London unto Seint Poules
To feken him a chanterie for foules,
Or with a brotherhede to be withold,
But dwelt at home and kepte wel his fold,
So that the wolf ne made it not mifcarie :
He was a fhepherd and no mercenarie;
And though he holy were and vertuous
He was to finful men not difpitous,
Ne of his ſpeche dangerous ne digne,
But in his teching difcrete and benigne.
To drawen folk to heven with faireneffe;
By good enfample, was his befineffe ;
But it were any perfone obftinat,
What fo he were of highe or low eftat,
Him wolde he fnibben ſharply for the nones
A better preeft I trowe that no wher non is,
He waited after no pompe ne reverence,
Ne maked him no fpiced confcience
But Criftes lore, and his apoſtles twelve
He taught, but firft he folwed it himfelve.
With him ther was a Plowman, was his brother,
That hadde ylaid of dong ful many a fother;
A true fwinker and a good was he,
Living in pees and parfite charitee:
God loved he befte with alle his herte
At alle times, were it gain or ſmerte,
And than his neighebour right as himfelve.
He wolde threfh, and therto dike and delvê,
For Criftes fake, for every poure wight
Withouten hire, if it lay in his might.
His tithes paied he ful fayre and wel
Both of his propre fwinke and his catel.
In a tabard he rode upon a mere.
Ther was alſo a Reve, and a Millere,
A Sompnour, and a Pardoner alſo,
A Manciple, and myfelf; ther n'ere no mo.
The Miller was a ftout carl for the nones,
Ful bigge he was of braun and eke of bones,
That proved wel, for over all ther he came,
At wrailing he wolde bere away the ram.
He was fhort fhuldered, brode, a thikke gnarrė,
Ther n'as no dore that he n'olde heve of barre
Or breke it at a renning with his hede ;
His berd as any fowe or fex was rede,
And therto brode as though it were a ſpade.
Upon the cop right of his nofe he hade
A wert, and theron ftode a tufte of heres
Rede as the briftles of a fowes eres :
His nofe-thirles blacke were and wide:
A fwerd and bokeler bare he by his fide:
His mouth as wide was as a forneis:
He was a jangler and a Goliardeis,
And that was moft cf finne and harlotries:
Wel coude he fielen corne and tollen thries;
And yet he had a thonib of gold parde,
A white cote and a blew hode wered he:
A baggepipe wel coude he blowe and foune,
And therwithall be brought us out of toune.
A gentil Manciple was ther of a temple,
Of which achatoure mighten take enfemple
*
A ili
THE
PROLOGUE.
For to ben wife in bying of vitaille,
For whether that he paide or toke by taille
Algate he waited fo in his achate
That he was ay before in good eſtate :
Now is not that of God a ful fayre grace
That fwiche a lewed mannes wit fhal pace
The wisdom of an hepe of lered men?
Of maiſters had he mo than thries ten
That were of lawe expert and curious,
Of which ther was a dofein in that hous
Worthy to ben ftewardes of rent and lond
Of any lord that is in Englelond,
To maken him live by his propre good
In honour detteles, but if he were wood,
Or live as ſcarfly as him lift defire,
And able for to helpen all a fhire
In any cas that mighte fallen or happe;
And yet this Manciple fette hir aller cappe.
;
The Reve was a flendre colerike man,
His berd was fhave as neighe as ever he can :
His here was by his eres round yfhorne;
His top was docked like a preeft beforne :
Ful longe were his legges and ful lene,
Ylike a ftaff; ther was no calf yſene :
Wel coude he kepe a garner and a binne;
Ther was non auditour coude on him winne;
Wel wifte he by the drought and by the rain
The yelding of his feed and of his grain.
His lordes fhepe, his nete, and his deirie,
His fwine, his hors, his ftore, and his pultrie,
Were holly in his Reves governing,
And by his covenant yave he rekening,
Sin that his lord was twenty yere of age;
Ther coude no man bring him in arerage.
Ther n'as bailliff, ne herde, ne other hine,
That he ne knew his fleight and his covine
They were adradde of him as of the deth.
His wonning was ful fayre upon an heth;
With grene trecs yfhadewed was his place;
He coude better than his lord pourchace :
Ful riche he was yftored privily:
His lord wel coude he plefen fubtilly
To veve and lene him of his owen good,
And have a thank and yet a cote and hood.
In youthe he lerned hadde a good miſtere;
He was a wel good wright, a carpentere.
This Reve fate upon a right good ſtot
That was all pomelee grey, and highte Scot:
A long furcote of perfe upon he hade,
And by his fide he bare a ruſty blade.
Of Norfolk was this Reve of which I tell,
Beſide a toun men clepen Baldefwell.
Tucked he was, as is a frere aboute,
And ever he rode the hindereft of the route.
A Sampnour was ther with us in that place
That hadde a fire-red cherubinnes face,
For faufefleme he was, with eyen narwe;
As hote he was and likerous as a fparwe,
With fcalled browes blake and pilled berd;
Of his vifage children were fore aferd.
Ther n'as quickſilver, litarġe, ne brimſton,
Boras, cerufe, ne oile of tartre non,
Ne oinement, that wolde clenfe or bite,
That him might helpen of his whelkes white,
1
1
Ne of the knobbes fitting on his chekes :-
Wel loved he garlike, onions, and lekcs,
And for to drinke ftrong win as rede as blood,
Than wolde he fpeke and crie as he were wood;
And whan that he wel dronken had the win,
Than wold he fpeken no word but Latin:
A fewe termes coude he, two or three,
That he had lerned out of fom decree;
No wonder is, he heard it all the day:
And eke ye knowen wel how that a jay
Can clepen watte as wel as can the pope :
But who fo wolde in other thing him grope
Than hadde he ſpent all his philofophie;
Ay Queftio quid juris ? wolde he crie.
*
He was a gentil harlot and a kind;
A better felaw fhulde a man not find:
He wolde fuffre for a quart of wine
A good felaw to have his concubine
A twelvemonth, and excuſe him at the full:
Ful prively a finch eke coude he pull;
And if he found o where a good felawe
He wolde techen him to have non awe
In fwiche a cas of the archedekenes curfe,
But if a mannes foule were in his purfe,
For in his purſe he fhulde ypuniſhed be;
Purfe is the archedekens helle, faid he,
But wel I wote he lied right in dede;
Of curfing ought eche gilty man him drede,
For curfe wol fle right as affoiling faveth,
And alfo ware him of a fignificavit.
In danger hadde he at his owen gife
The yonge girles of the diocife,
And knew hir counfeil and was of hir rede..
A gerlond hadde he fette upon his hede
As gret as it were for an aleftake;
A bokeler hadde he made him of a cake.
With him ther rode a gentil Pardonere
Of Rouncevall, his frend and his compere,
That ftreit was comen from the court of Romer
Ful loude he fang, Come hither love to me.
This Sompnour bare to him a ſtiff burdoun,
Was never trompe of half fo gret a foun.
This Pardoner had here as yelwe as wax.
But fmoth it heng as doth a' ftrike of flax;
By unces heng his lokkes that he hadde,
And therwith he his fhulders overfpradde:
Full thinne it lay, by culpons on and on,
But hode for jolite ne wered he non.
For it was truffed up in his wallet.
Him thought he rode all of the newe get,
Difhevele, fauf his cappe, he rode all bare:
Swiche glaring eyen hadde he as an hare :
A vernicle hadde he fewed upon his cappe;
His wallet lay beforne him in his lappe
Bret-ful of pardon come from Rome al hote:
A vois he hadde as fmale as hath a gote:
No berd hadde he, ne never non fhulde have;
As fmothe it was as it were newe fhave:
I trowe he were a gelding or a mare.
But of his craft, fro Berwike unto Ware
* The name of harlot was anciently given to men, 28
well as women.
·
THE
PROLOGUE.
Ne was ther fwiche an other Pardonere,
For in his male he hadde a pilwebere
Which, as he faide, was oure Ladies viel:
He faide he hadde a gobbet of the ſeyl
Thatte Seint Peter had whan that he went
Upon the fee till Jefu Criſt him hent :
He had a crois of laton ful of ftones,
And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.
But with theſe relikes whanne that he fond
A poure perfone dwelling up on lond,
Upon a day he gat him more moneie
Than that the perfone gat in monethes tweie;
And thus with fained flattering and japes
He made the perfone and the peple his apes.
But trewely to tellen atte laſt,
He was in chirche a noble ecclefiaft:
Wel coude he rede a leſſon or a ſtorie,
But alderbest he fang an offertorie;
For wel he wifte whan that fong was fonge
He muste preache and wel afile his ton e
To winne filver, as he right wel coude,
Therfore he fang the merier and loude.
Now have I told you fhortly in a claufe
Th' eftat, th' araie, the nombre, and eke the cauſe,
Why that affembled was this compagnie
In Southwerk at this gentil hoſtelrie
That highte The Tabard, faſt by the Belle.
But now is time to you for to telle
How that we baren us that ilke night
Whan we were in that hoftelrie alight;
And after wol I tell of our viage,
And all the remenant of our pilgrimage.
But firfte I praie you of your curtefie
That ye ne arette it not my vilanie,
Though that I plainly fpeke in this matere,
To tellen you hir wordes and hir chere,
Ne though I ſpeke hir words proprely;
For this ye knowen al fo wel as I,
Who fo fhall telle a Tale after a man
He mofte reherfe as neighe as ever he can
Everich word, if it be in his charge,
All fpeke he never fo rudely and fo large,
Or elles he mofte tellen his Tale untrewe,
Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe:
He may not ſpare although he were his brother;
He mofte as wel fayn o word as an other.
Crift fpake himſelf ful brode in holy writ,
And wel ye wote no vilanie is it:
Eke Plato fayeth, who fo can him rede,
The wordes moft ben cofin to the dede.
Alfo I praie you to forgive it me
All have I not fette folk in hir degree
Here in this Tale as that they fhulden ftonde:
My wit is fhort ye may well underſtonde.
Gret chere made our Hofte us everich on,
And to the fouper fette he us anon.
And ferved us with vitaille of the befte;
Strong was the win, and wel to drink us lefte.
A femely man our Hofte was with alle
For to han ben a marshal in an halle;
A large man he was, with eyen ftepe;
A fairer burgeis is ther none in Chepe:
Bold of his fpeche, and wife, and wel ytaught,
And of manhood claked right him naught:
Eke therto was he right a mery man,
And after fouper plaien he began,
And fpake of mirthe amonges other thinges
Whan that we hadden made our rekeninges,
And faide thus; Now Lordinges, trewely
Ye ben to me welcome right hertily,
For by my trouthe, if that I fhal not lie,
I faw nat this yere fwiche a compagnie
At ones in this herberwe as is now;
Fayn wolde I do you mirthe and I wiſte how;
And of a mirthe I am right now bethought
To don you eſe, and it fhall cofte you nought.
Ye gon to Canterbury; God you fpede,
The blissful martyr quite you your mede;
And wel I wot as ye gon by the way
Ye ſhapen you to talken and to play;
For trowely comfort ne mirthe is non
To riden by the way dombe as the ſton;
And therfore wold I maken you diſport,
As I faid erft, and don you ſome comfort.
And if you liketh alle by on affent
Now for to ftonden at my jugement,
And for to werchen as I fhal you fay
To-morwe, whan ye riden on the way,
Now by my faders foule that is ded
But ye be mery, fmiteth of my hed:
Hold up your hondes withouten more fpeche.
Our counfeil was not long for to feche;
Us thought it was not worth to make it wife,
And granted him withouten more aviſe,
And bad him fay his verdit as him lefte.
Lordinges, (quod he) now herkeneth for the beſte;
But take it nat, I pray you, in difdain :
This is the point, to ſpeke it plat and plain,
That eche of you to fhorten with youre way
In this viage fhal tellen Tales tway,
To Canterbury ward I mene it ſo,
And homeward he ſhall tellen other two,
Of aventures that whilom han befalle.
And which of you that bereth him beft of alle,
That is to fayn, that telleth in this cas
Tales of beft fentence and moft folas,
Shall have a ſouper at youre aller coſt
Here in this place fitting by this poſt,
Whan that ye comen agen from Canterbury.
And for to maken you the more mery
I wol my felven gladly with you ride,
Right at min owen coſt, and be your gide.
And who that wol my jugement withſay
Shal pay for alle we fpenden by the way.
And if ye vouchefauf that it be fo,
Telle me anon withouten wordes mo,
And I wol erly fhapen me therfore.
This thing was granted, and our othes fwore
With ful glad herte, and praiden him alfo
That he wold vouchefauf for to don fo,
And that he wolde ben our governour,
And of our Tales juge and reportour,
And fette a fouper at a certain pris,
And we wol reuled ben at his devife
In highe and lowe*: and thus by on affent
We ben accorded to his jugement;
* In, or, De alio et baſe, barb Lat. Haut et bas, Fr, were
expreffions of entire fubmiffion on onetide,and fovereignty
on the other.
A iiij
8
PROLOGUE
THE
And therupon the win was fette anon:
We dronken, and to reſte wenten éche on
Withouten any lenger tarying.
A morwe whan the day began to ſpring
Up rofe our Hofte, and was our aller cok,
And gaderd us togeder in a flok,
And forth we riden a litel more than pas
Unto the watering of Seint Thomas,
And ther our Hofte began his hors areft,
And faid, Lordes, herkeneth if you left:
Ye wete your forword, and I it record :
If even fong and morwe fong accord,
Let fe now who fhal telle the firft Tale:
As ever mote I drinken win or ale
Who fo is rebel to my jugement
Shal pay for alle that by the way is ſpent.
Now draweth cutte or that ye forther twinne;
He which that hath the ſhorteſt ſhal beginne.
Sire Knight, (quod he) my maiſter and my lord,
Now draweth cutte, for that is min accord.
Cometh nere (quod he) my Lady Prioreffe
And ye fire Clerk; let be your ſhamefaftneſſe,
Ne ſtudieth nought: lay hand to every man.
Anon to drawen every wight began,
And ſhortly for tellen as it was,
Were it by aventure, or fort, or cas,
The fothe is this, the cutte fell on the Knight,
Of which ful blith and glad was every wight;
And tell he muſt his Tale as was refon,
By forword and by compofition,
As
ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo?
And whan this good man faw that it was fo,
As he that wife was and obedient
To kepe his forword by his free aſſent,
He faide; Sithen I fhal begin this game,
What, welcome be the cutte a Goddes name.
Now let us ride, and hearkeneth what I ſay.
And with that word we riden forth our way i
And he began with a right mery chere
His Tale anon, and faide as ye ſhal here.
THE KNIGHTES TALE.
{
THE KNIGHTES TALE.
WHILOM, as olde ſtories tellen us,
Ther was a duk that highte Thefeus;
Of Athenes he was lord and governour,
And in his time fwiche a conquerour,
That greter was ther non under the fonne;
Ful many a riche contree had he wonne.
What with his wifdom and his chevalrie
He conquerd all the regne of Feminie,
That whilom was ycleped Scythia,
And wedded the freshe quene Ipolita,
And brought hire home with him to his contree
With mochel glorie and great ſolempnitee,
And eke hire yonge fufter Emelie.
And thus with victorie and with melodie
Let I this worthy duk to Athenes ride,
And all his hoft in armes him befide.
And certes, if it n'ere to long to here,
I wolde have told you fully the manere
How wonnen was the regne of Feminie
By Thefeus and by his chevalrie,
And of the grete bataille for the nones
Betwix Athenes and the Amafones,
And how affeged was Ipolita,
The faire hardy quene of Scythia,
And of the feſte that was at hire wedding,
And of the temple at hire home coming;
But all this thing I mofte as now forbere :
I have, God wot, a large feld to ere,
And weke ben the oxen in my plow :
'The remenent of my Tale is long ynow.
I wil not letten eke non of this route;
Let every felaw telle his Tale aboute,
And let fe now who fhal the ſouper winne.
Ther as I left I will agen beginne.
{
This duk, of whom I made mentioun,
Whan he was comen almoft to the toun,
In all his wele and in his mofte pride,
He was ware, as he caft his eye afide,
Wher that ther kneled in the highe wey
A compagnie of ladies twey and twey,
Eche after other, clad in clothes blake;
But fwiche a crie and fwiche a wo they make,
That in this world n'is creature living
That ever herd fwiche another waimenting;
And of this crie ne wolde they never ftenten
'Till they the reines of his bridel henten.
What folk be ye that at min home coming
Ferturben fo my fefte with crying?
Quod Thefeus; have ye fo grete envie
Of min honour, that thus complaine and crie?
Or who hath you mifboden or offended?
Do telle me, if that it may be amended,
And why ye be thus clothed all in blake?
The oldeſt lady of hem all than fpake,
Whan fhe had fwouned with a dedly chere,
That it was reuthe for to feen and here.
She fayde, Lord, to whom Fortune hath yeven
Victorie, and as a conqueror to liven,
Nought greveth us your glorie and your honour,
But we befeke you of mercie and focour :
Have mercie on our woe and our diftreffe:
Some drope of pitee thurgh thy gentilleffe
Upon us wretched wimmen let now falle;
For certes, Lord, ther n'is non of us alle
That ſhe n'hath ben a duchefſe or a quene;
Now be we caitives, as it is wel fene :
Thanked be Fortune and hire falſe whele
That non eftat enfure th to be wele.
And certes, Lord, to abiden your prefence,
Here in this temple of the goddeffe Clemence,
We han ben waiting all this fourtenight :
Now helpe us, Lord, fin it lieth in thy might.
I wretched wight, that wepe and waile thus,
Was whilom wif to King Capaneus
That ſtarfe at Thebes, curfed be that day;
And alle we that ben in this aray,
And maken all this lamentation,
We loften all our huſbondes at that toun,
While that the fiege therabouten lay:
And yet now the olde Creon, wala wa!
That lord is now of Thebes the citee,
Fulfilled of ire and of iniquittee,
He for defpit, and for his tyrannie,
To don the der bodies a vilanie,
Of alle our lordes, which that ben yflawe,
Hath alle the bodies on an hepe ydrawe,
And will not fuffren hem by non affent
Neyther to ben yberied ne ybrent,
But maketh houndes ete hem in defpite.
And with that word, withouten more refpite,
They fallen groff, and crien pitously,
Have on us wretched wimmen fom mercy,
And let our forwe finken in thin herte.
This gentil duk doun from his courfer ſterte
With herte piteous whan he herd hem fpeke;
Him thoughte that his herte wolde all to-breke ·
When he faw hem fo pitous and fo mate
That whilom weren of fo gret eſtate,
And in his armes he hem all up hente,
And hem comforted in ful good entente,
And fwore his oth, as he was trewe knight,
He wolde don fo ferforthly his might
Upon the tyrant Creon hem to wreke.
That all the peple of Grece fhulde fpeke
IO
THE KNIGHTESTALE.
1
How Creon was of Thefeus yferved,
As he that hath his deth ful wel deferved.
And right anon, withouten more abode,
His banner he difplaide, and forth he rode
To Thebes ward, and all his hoft befide:
No ner Athenes n'olde he go ne ride,
Ne take his eſe fully half a day,
But onward on his way that night he lay,
And fent anon Ipolita the quene,
And Emelie hire younge fifter fhene,
Unto the toun of Athenes for to dwell;
And forth he rit; ther n'is no more to tell.
'The red ftatue of Mars, with fpere and targe,
So ſhineth in his white banner large,
That all the feldes gliteren up and doun;
And by his banner borne is his penon
Of gold ful riche, in which that ther was ybete
"The Minotaure which that he flew in Crete.
Thus rit this duk, thus rit this conquerour,
And in his hoft of chevalrie the flour,
Til that he came to Thebes, and alight
Fayre in a feld, ther as he thought to fight.
But fhortly for to fpeken of this thing,
With Creon, which that was of Thebes king
He fought, and flew him manly as a knight
In plaine bataille, and put his folk to flight;
And by affaut he wan the citee after,
And rent adoun bothe wall, and ſparre, and rafter;
And to the ladies he reſtored again
The bodies of hir houſbondes that were flain,
To don the obfequies, as was tho the gife,
But it were all to long for to deviſe
The grete clamour and the waimenting
Whiche that the ladies made at the brenning
Of the bodies, and the gret honour
That Thefeus, the noble conquerour,
Doth to the ladies whan they from him wente;
But ſhortly for to telle is min entente.
Whan that this worthy duk, this Thefeus,
Hath Creon flain and wonnen Thebes thus,
Still in the feld he toke all night his reſte;
And did with all the countree as him leſte :
To ranfake in the tas of bodies dede,
Hem for to ſtripe of harneis and of wede,
The pillours dide hir befineſſe and cure,
After the bataille and diſcomfiture;
And fo befell that in the tas they found,
Thurgh girt with many a grevous blody wound,
Two yonge knightes ligging by and by,
Bothe in on armes wrought ful richely;
Of whiche two Arcita highte that on,
And he that other highte Palamon.
Not fully quik ne fully ded they were,
But by hir cote armure and by hir gere
The heraudes knew him wel in ſpecial,
As tho that weren of the blod real
Of Thebes and of fuftren two yborne.
Out of the tas the pillours han hem torne,
And han hem carried foft unto the tente
Of Thefeus, and he ful fone hem fente
To Athenes, for to dwellen in priſon
Perpetuel, he n'olde no raunfon.
And whan this worthy duk had thus ydon,
He toke his hoft, and home he rit anon,
*
With laurel crouned as a conquerour,
And ther he liveth in joye and in honour
Terme of his lif; what nedeth wordes mo?
And in a tour, in anguiſh and in wo
Dwellen this Palamon and eke Arcite
For evermo, ther may no gold hem quite.
Thus paſſeth yere by yere, and day by day,
Till it fell ones in a morwe of May
That Emelie, that fayrer was to fene
Than is the lilie upon his ftalke grene,
And fresher than the May with floures new,
(For with the rofe colour ftrof hire hewe;
I n'ot which was the finer of hem two)
Er it was day, as fhe was wont to do,
She was arifen, and all redy dight,
For May wol have no flogardie a night;
The fefon priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his flepe to fterte,
And fayth, Arife, and do thin obfervance.
This maketh Emelie han remembrance
To don honour to May, and for to riſe;
Yclothed was fhe fresfhe for to devife,
Hire yelwe here was broided in a treffe
Behind hire back, a yerde long I geffe;
And in the gardin at the fonne upriſt
She walketh up and doun wher as hire liſt :
She gathereth floures, partie white and red,
To make a fotel gerlond for hire hed;
And as an angel hevenlich fhe fong.
The grete tour that was fo thikke and ſtrong,
Which of the caftel was the chef dongeon,
(Wher as thefe knightes weren in priſon,
Of which I tolde you, and tellen fhal)
Was even joinant to the gardin wall,
Ther as this Emelie had hire playing.
[ing
Bright was the fonne and clere that morwen-
And Palamon, this woful priſoner,
As was his wone, by leve of his gayler
Was rifen, and romed in a chambre on high,
In which he all the noble citee figh,
And eke the gardin, ful of branches grene,
Ther as this fresfhe Emelia the fhene
Was in hire walk, and romed up and doun.
This forweful prifoner, this Palamon,
Goth in his chambre roming to and fro,
And to himſelfe complaining of his wo:
That he was borne ful oft he fayd Alas!
And fo befell, by aventure or cas,
That thurgh a window thikke of many a barre
Of yren gret, and ſquare as any ſparre,
He caft his eyen upon Emelia,
And therwithal he blent * and cried A!
As though he frongen were unto the herte:
And with that crie Arcite anon up fterte,
And faide, Çofin min, what eyleth thee
That art fo pale and dedly for to fee?
Why crideft thou? who hath thee don offence?
For Goddes love take all in patience
This word has various fenfes in Chaucer, as it is de-
rived from blinnan, ceſſare; blindan, cæcare; or blendan,
mijcere. It feems here to be uſed in a fourth ſenſe, the
fame in which Shakeſpeare ufes the verb to blench, i. c. to
fhrink or ſtart aſide. Johnſon's Dia. În v. Blanch. See GloN
in v. Blent, part. of Blench,
THE
Ir
KNIGHT ES TALE.
Our prifon, for it may non other be;
Fortune hath yeven us this adverfite:
Som wikke afpect or difpofition
Of Saturne, by fom conftellation,
Hath yeven us this, although we had it fworn:
So ftood the heven whan that we were born:
We mofte endure; this is the ſhort and plain.
This Palamon anfwerde, and fayde again,
Cofin, forfoth of this opinion
Thou haft a vaine imagination :
This priſon cauſed me not for to crie,
But I was hurt right now thurghout min eye
Into min herte, that wol my bane be:
The fayrneffe of a lady that I fe
Yond in the gardin roming to and fro
Is cauſe of all my crying and my wo:
I n'ot whe'r fhe be woman or goddeffe,
But Venus is it fothly as I geffe.
And therwithall on knees adoun he fill,
And fayde; Venus, if it be your will
You in this gardin thus to transfigure,
Beforn me forweful wretched creature,
Out of this prifon helpe that we may ſcape;
And if fo be our deſtine be ſhape
By eterne word to dien in priſon,
Of our lignage have fome compaffion,
That is fo low ybrought by tyrannie.
And with that word Arcita gan eſpie
Wher as this lady romed to and fro,
And with that fight hire beaute hurt him fo,
That if that Palamon were wounded fore
Arcite is hurt as moche as he or more:
And with a figh he fayde pitously,
The fresfhe beaute fleth me fodenly
Of hire that rometh in the yonder place;
And but I have hire mercie and hire grace,
That I may feen hire at the lefte way,
I n'am but ded; ther n'is no more to ſay.
This Palamon, whan he theſe wordes herd,
Difpitoufly he loked, and anfwerd,
Whether fayeft thou this in erneſt or in play?
Nay, quod Arcite, in erneft by my fay;
God helpe me fo, me luft full yvel play.
This Palamon gan knit his browes twey.
It were, quod he, to thee no gret honour
For to be falfe, ne for to be traytour
To me, that am thy cofin and thy brother
Yfworne ful depe, and eche of us to other,
That never for to dien in the peine
Til that the deth departen fhal us tweine,
Neyther of us in love to hindre other,
Ne in non other cas, my leve brother;
But that thou fhuldeft trewely forther me
In every cas as I fhuld forther thee.
This was thin oth, and min alſo certain;
I wot it wel thou darſt it not withſain ;
Thus art thou of my confeil out of doute,
And now thou woldeſt falfly ben aboute
To love my lady whom I love and ferve,
And ever ſhal til that min herte ſterve.
Now certes, falfe Arcite, thou shalt not fo:
I loved hire firfte, and tolde thee my wo.
As to my confeil, and my brother ſworne
To forther ine as I have told beforne,
For which thou art ybounden as a knight
To helpen me, if it lie in thy might,
Or elles art thou falſe I dare wel fain.
This Arcita full proudly ſpake again.
Thou fhalt, quod he, be rather falfe than I,
And thou art falfe, I tell thee utterly;
For par amour I loved hire firſt or thou.
What wolt thou fayn? thou wiſteſt nat right now
Whether fhe were a woman or a goddeſſe :
Thin is affection of holineffe,
And min is love as to a creature,
For which I tolde thee min aventure,
As to my cofin and my brother fworne.
I poſe that thou lovedeft hire beforne:
Woft thou not wel the olde clerkes ſawe †,
That who fhall give a lover any lawe?
Love is a greter lawe by my pan
Then may be yeven of any erthly man ;
And therfore pofitif lawe and fwiche decree
Is broken all day for love in eche degree.
A man mofte nedes love maugre his hed;
He may not fleen it though he fhuld be ded
All be the maid, or widewe, or elles wif.
And eke it is not likely all thy lif
To ſtonden in hire grace, no more fhal I;
For wel thou woft thy felven veraily
'That thou and I be damned to prifon
Perpetuel; us gaineth no raunfon.
1-7
We ſtrive as did the houndes for the bone,
They fought all day, and yet hir part was none;
Ther came a kyte, while that they were fo wrothe
And bare away the bone betwix hem bothe.
And therfore at the kinges court, my brother,
Eche man for himſelf, ther is non other.
Love if thee luft, for I love, and ay ſhal;
And fothly, leve brother, this is al.
Here in this prifon moften we endure,
And everich of us take his aventure.
Gret was the ftrif, and long betwix him twey.
If that I hadde leifer for to fey:
But to th' effect. It happed on a day,
(To tell it you as fhortly as I may)
A worthy duk that highte Perithous,
That felaw was to this duk Thefeus
Sin thilke day that they were children lite
Was come to Athenes his felaw to viſite,
And for to play as he was wont to do,
For in this world he loved no man fo,
And he loved him as tendrely again :
So wel they loved, as olde bokes fain,
That whan that on was dede, fothly to tell,
His felaw wente and fought him doun in hell :
But of that ftoric lift me not to write,
Duk Perithous loved wel Arcite,
And had him knowe at Thebes yere by yere :
And finally, at requeft and praiere
Of Perithous, withouten any raunſon,
Duk Thefeus him let out of priſon,
+ The olde clerk is Roethius, from whofe book De Confo-
latione, Chaucer has borrowed largely in many places. The
paffage alluded to is in l. ii. met. 12.
Quis legem det amantibus?
Major lcx amor eft tibi.
12
.
THE
TALEKNIGHTESTA '
L E.Frely to gon wher that him lift over all,
In fwiche a gife as I you tellen fhall.
This was the forword, plainly for to endite,
Betwixen Thefeus and him Arcite;
That if ſo were that Arcite were yfound
Ever in his lif, by day or night, o ftound
In any countree of this Thefeus,-
And he were caught, it was accorded thus,
That with a fwerd he fhulde lefe his hed;
Ther was non other remedie ne reae ;
But taketh his leve, and homeward he him fpedde:
Let him beware, his nekke licth to wedde.
How gret a forwe fuffereth now Arcite?
The deth he feleth thurgh his herte fmite;
He wepeth, waileth, crieth pitoufy,
To fleen himſelf he waiteth privcly.
He faid, Alas the day that I was borne!
Now is my prifon werfe than beforne;
Now is nie shape eternally to dwelle
Not only in purgatorie but in helle.
Alas! that ever I knew Perithous,
For elles had I dwelt with Thefeus,
Yfetered in his prifon evermo;
Than had I ben in bliffe and not in wo?
Only the fight of hire whom that I ſerve,
Though that I never hire grace may deferve,
Wold have fufficed right ynough for me.
O dere cofin Palamon, quod he,
Thin is the victorie of this aventure;
Ful blisful in prifon maieft thou endure:
In prifon? certes nay, but in paradiſe,
Wel hath Fortunc yturned thee the dife,
That haft the fight of hire and I th' abſence.
For poffible is, fin thou haft hire preſence,
And art a knight, a worthy and an able,
That by fome eas, fin Fortune is changeable,
Thou maieft to thy defir fomtime atteine :
But that I am exiled, and barreine
Of alle grace, and in fo gret deſpaire,
That ther n'is erthe, water, fire, ne aire,
Ne creature, that of hem maked is,
That may me hele or don comfort in this,
Wel ought I fterve in wanhope and diflreffe.
Farewel my lif, my luft, and my gladneffe.
Alas! why plainen men fo in commune
Of purvciance of God or of Fortune,
That yeveth hem ful oft in many a gife
Wel better than they can hemfelf deviſe ?
Som man defireth for to have richeſſe,
That cauſe is of his murdre or gret fikneffe;
And fom man wold out of his prifon fayn,
That in his houfe is of his meynie flain.
Infinite harmes hen in this matere:
We wote not what thing that we praien here.
We faren as he that dronke is as a mous:
A dronken man wot wel he hath an hous,
But he ne wot which is the right way thider,
And to a dronken man the way is flider,
And certes in this world fo faren we.
We feken faft after felicite,
But we go wrong ful often trewely.
Thus we may fayen alle, and namely I,
That wende, and had a gret opinion,
That if I might cfcapen fro prifon
Than I had ben in joye and parfite hele
Ther now I am exiled fro my wele.
Sin that I may not feen you Emelie
I n'am but ded; ther n'is no remedie.
Upon that other ſide Palamon,
Whan that he wift Arcita was agon,
Swiche forwe he maketh, that the grete tour
Refouned of his yelling and clamour.
The pure fetters on his fhinnes grete
Were of his bitter falte teres wetc.
Alas! quod he, Arcita, cofin min,
Of all our ftrif, God wot, the frute is thin.
Thou walkeft now in Thebes at thy large,
And of my wo thou yeveft litel charge.
Thou maift, fith thou haft wiſdom and manhede.
Affemblen all the folk of our kinrede,
And make a werre ſo ſharpe on this contree,
That by fom aventure or fom tretee
Thou maiſt have lire to lady and to wif
For whom that I muſt nedes lefe my lif
For as by way of poffibilitee,
Sith thou art at thy large of priſon free,
And art a lord, gret is thin avantage,
More than is min, that fterve here in a cage:
For I may wepe and waile while that I live,
With all the wo that prifon may me yeve,
And cke with peine that love me yeveth alſo,
That doubleth all my tourment and my wo.
Therwith the fire of jaloufie up fterte
Within his breft, and hent him by the herte
So woodly, that he like was to behold.
The box-tree, or the afhen ded and cold.
Then faid he ; O cruel Goddes! that governe
This world with binding of your word eterne,
And writen in the table of athamant
Your parlement and your eterne grant,
What is mankind more unto yhold
Than is the fhepe that rouketh in the fold ?
For flain is man right as another beeft,
And dwelleth eke in prifon and arreft,
nd hath fikneffe and gret adverſite,
And often times gilteles parde.
What governance is in this prefſcience
That giltelefs turmenteth innocence?
And yet encrefeth this all my penance,
That man is bounden to his obfervance
For Goddes fake to leten of his will,
Ther as a beeft may all his luft fulfill.
And when a beeft is ded he hath no peine;
But man after his deth mote wepe and pleine,
Though in this world he have care and wo:
Withouten doute it maye ftonden fo.
The aufwer of this lete I to divines,
But wel I wote that in this world gret pine is.
Alas! I fee a ferpent or a thefe,
That many a trewe man hath do mefchefe,
Gon at his large, and wher him luft may turn.
But I mofte ben in prifon thurgh Saturn,
And cke thurgh Juno, jalous and eke wood
That hath wel neye deftruied all the blood
Of Thebes, with his wafte walls wide.
And Venus fleeth me on that other fide
For jaloufie, and fere of him Arcite.
Now wol I ftent of Palamon a lite,
عي
L
}
I
13
}
THE
KNIGHTES
And leten him in his priſon ftill dwelle,
And of Arcita forth I wol you telle.
The ſommer paffeth, and the nightes long
Eucrefen double wife the peines ftrong
Both of the lover and of the priſoner;
I n'ot which hath the wofuller miftere
For fhortly for to fay, this Palamon
Perpetuelly is damned to prifon,
In chaines and in fetters to ben ded
And Arcite is exiled on his hed
For evermore as out of that contree,
Ne never more he fhal his lady fee.
;
You lovers axe I now this queſtion,
Who hath the werfe, Arcite or Palamon?
That on my ſe his lady day by day,
But in priſon mofte he dwellen alway:
That other wher him luft may ride or go,
But ſen his lady ſhal he never mo.
Now demeth as you lifte, ye that can,
For I wil tell you forth as I began.
When that Arcite to Thebes comen was,
Ful oft a day he fwelt and faid Alas!
For fen his lady fhal he never mo.
And fhortly to concluden all his wo,
So mochel forwe hadde never creature
That is or hal be while the world may dure.
His flepe, his mete, his drinke, is him byraft,
That lene he wex, and drie as is a fhaft.
His eyen holwe, and grifly to behold,
His hewe falwe, and pale as afhen cold,
And folitary he was, and ever alone,
And wailing all the night, making his mone :
And if he herde fong or inftrument,
Than would he wepe, he mighte not be ſtent.
So feble were his ſpirites, and fo low,
And changed fo, that no man coude know
His ſpeche ne his vois, though men it herd.
And in his gere, for all the world he ferd
Nought only like the lovers maladie,
Of Ereos, but rather ylike manie,
Engendred of humours melancolike,
Beforne his hed in his celle fantaſtike.
And fhortly turned was all up ſo doun
Both habit and eke difpofitioun
Of him, this woful lover Dan Arcite,
What fhuld I all day of his wo endite?
Whan he endured had a yere or two
This cruel torment, and this peine and wo,
At Thebes, in his contree, as I faid,
Upon a night in flepe as he him laid,
Him thought how that the winged god Mercury
Beforne him ftood, and bad him to be mery.
His flepy yerde in hond he bare upright;
An hat he wered upon his heres bright:
Arraied was this god (as he toke kepe)
As he was whan that Argus toke his flepe,
And faid him thus; To Athenes fhalt thou wende;
Ther is thee fhapen of thy wo an ende.
And with that word Arcite awoke and ſtert.
Now trewely how fore that ever me fmert.
Quod he, to Athenes right now wol I fare;
Ne for no drede of deth fhall I not fpare
To fe my lady, that I love and ferve;
a hire prefence I rekke not to ſerve.
TALE.
And with that word he caught a gret mirrour,
And faw that changed was all his colour,
And faw his vifage all in another kind:
And right anon it ran him in his mind,
That fith his face was fo disfigured
Of maladie the which he had endured,
He mighte wel, if that he bare him lowe,
Live in Athenes evermore unknowe,
And fen his lady wel nigh day by day.
And right anon he changed his aray,
And clad him as a poure labourer.
And all alone, fave only a ſquier,
That knew his privite and all his cas,
Which was diſguiſed pourely as he was,
To Athenes is he gone the nexte way.
And to the court he went upon a day,
And at the gate he proffered his fervice,
To drugge and draw what fo men wold devife.
And ſhortly of this matere for to ſayn,
He fell in office with a chamberlain,
The which that dwelling was with Emelie,
For he was wiſe, and coude fone eſpie
Of every fervent which that ferved hire:
Wel coude he hewen wood, and water here,
For he was yonge and mighty for the nones,
And therto he was ftrong and big of bones
To don that any wight can him deviſe.
A yere or two he was in this fervice,
Page of the chambre of Emelie the bright,
And Philoftrate he fayde that he hight.
But half fo wel beloved a man as he
Ne was ther never in court of his degre.
He was fo gentil of conditioun,
That thurghout all the court was his renoun,
They fayden that it were a charite
That Thefeus wold enhaunfe his degre,
And putten him in worſhipful ſervice,
Ther as he might his vertucs exercife.
And thus within a while his name is fpronge
Both of his dedes and of his good tonge,
That Thefeus had taken him fo ner
That of his chambre he made him a fquier,
And gave him gold to mainteine his degre;
And eke men brought him out of his contre
Fro yere to yere ful prively his rent;
But honeftly and fleighly he it ſpent,
That no man wondred how that he it hadde.
And thre yere in this wife his lif he ladde,
And bare him fo in pees and eke in werre
Ther n'as no man that Thefeus hath derre.
And in this bliffe let I now Arcite,
And ſpeke I wol of Palamon a lite.
In derkeneffe and horrible and ſtrong prifon
This ſeven yere hath fitten Palamon,
Forpined, what for love and for diftreffe.
Who feleth double forwe and hevineffe
But Palamon? that love diſtraineth ſo,
That wood out of his wit he goth for wo
And eke therto he is a prifonere
Perpetuell, not only for a yere.
Who coude time in Engliſh proprely
His martirdom? forfoth it am not I,
Therfore I paffe as lightly as I may.
It fell that in the feventh yere, in May
14
KNIGHTÈS TA LE.
THE
The thridde night, (as olde bokes fayn,
That all this ſtorie tellen more plain)
Were it by aventure or deſtinee,
(As when a thing is ſhapen it fhal be)
That fone after the midnight Palamon,
By helping of a frend, brake his priſon,
And fleeth the cite fafte as he may go,
For he had yeven drinke his gayler fo,
Of a clarre made of a certain wine,
With narcotikes and opie of Thebes fine,
[fhake,
at all the night though that men wold him
Te gailer flept, he mighte not awake :
And thus he fleeth as faite as ever he may.
The night was ſhort, and faſte by the day,
That nedes coft he mofte himfelven hide;
And to a grove faſte ther befide
With dredful foot than ftalketh Palamon:
For fhortly this was his opinion,
That in that grove he wold him hide all day,
And in the night than wold he take his way
To Thebes ward, his frendes for to preie
On Thefeus to helpen him werreie :
And ſhortly, eyther he wold lefe his lif
Or winnen Emelie unto his wif.
This is the effect, and his entente plein.
Now wol I turnen to Arcite agein,
That litel wiſt how neighe was his care,
Till that Fortune had brought him in the ſnare.
The befy larke, the meffager of day,
Salewith in hire fong the morwe gray,
And firy Phebus rifeth up fo bright,
That all the orient laugheth of the fight,
And with his ftremes drieth in the greves
The filver dropes hanging on the leves.
And Arcite, that is in the court real
With Thefeus the fquier principal,
Is rifen, and loketh on the mery day;
And for to don his obfervance to May,
Remembring on the point of his defire,
He on his courfer, fterting as the fire,
Is ridden to the feldes him to pley,
Out of the court, were it a mile or twey;
And to the grove of which that
I
you told
By aventure his way he gan to hold,
To maken him a gerlond of the greves,
Were it of woodbind or of hauthorn leves,
And loud he fong agen the ſonne ſhene.
Maye, with all thy flours and thy grene,
Right welcome be thou faire freſhe May,
I hope that I fome grène here getten may.
And from his courfer with a luſty herte
Into the grove ful haftily he ſterte,
And in a path he romed up and doun,
Ther as by aventure this Palamon
Was in a buſh, that no man might him ſe,
For fore afered of his deth was he.
Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite :
God wot he wold have trowed it ful lite.
But foth is faid, gon fithen are many yeres,
That feld hath eyen, and the wood hath cres,
It is ful faire a man to bere him even
For al day meten men at unfet fteven.
Ful litel wote Arcite of his felaw,
That was fo neigh to herken of his faw,
For in the bufh he fitteth now ful ſtili.
Whan that Arcite had romed all his fill,
And fongen all the roundel luftily,
Into a ſtudie he fell fodenly,
As don thefe lovers in hir queinte geres,
Now in the crop, and now down in the breres
Now up, now doun, as boket in a well.
Right as the Friday, fothly for to tell,
Now thineth it, and now it raineth faſt
Right fo can gery Venus overcaft
The hertes of hire folk, right as hire day
Is gerfull, right fo changeth fhe aray.
Selde is the Friday all the weke ylike.
Whan Arcite hadde yfonge, he gan to like,
And fet him doun withouten any more;
Alas! (quod he) the day that I was bore!
How longe, Juno, thurgh thy crueltee -
Wilt thou werreien Thebes the citee?
Alas! ybrought is to confufion
The blood real of Cadme and Amphion:
Of Cadmus, which that was the firfte man
That Thebes built, or firfte the toun began,
And of the citec firfte was crouned king,
Of his linage am I, and his ofspring
By veray line, as of the ftok real;
And now I am ſo caitif and fo thral,
That he that is my mortal enemy
I ferve him as his fquier pourely.
And yet doth Juno me wel more ſhame,
For I dare not beknowe min owen name,
But ther as I was wont to highte Arcite,
Now highte I Ahiloftrat not worth a mite,
Alas! thou fell Mars, alas! thou Juno,
Thus hath your ire our linage all fordo,
Save only me and wretched Palamon,
That Thefeus martireth in prifon.
And over all this, to flen me utterly,
Love hath his firy dart fo brenningly
Yitiked thurgh my trewe careful hert,
That ſhapen was my deth erft than my fhert.
Ye flen me with your eyen Emelie ;
Ye ben the cauſe wherfore that I die.
Of all the remenant of min other care
Ne fet I not the mountance of a tare,
So that I coud don ought to your pleance.
And with that word he fell doun in a trance
A longe time, and afterward up fterte.
This Palamon, that thought thurghout his herte
He felt a colde fwerd fodenly glide;
For ire he quoke, no lenger wolde he hide :
And whan that he had herd Arcites tale,
As he were wood, with face ded and pale,
He fterte him up out of the buſhes thikke
And fayde; Falfe Arcite, falfe traitour wicke,
Now art thou hent, that loveft my lady fo,
For whom that I have all this peine and wo,
And art my blood, and to my confeil fworn,
As I ful oft have told thee herebeforn,
And haft beiaped here Duk Thefcus,
And falfely changed haft thy name thus;
I wol be ded, or elles thou fhalt die :
Thou halt not love my lady Emelie,
But Ivo by hire only and no mo,
For I am Palamon thy mortal fo
THE KNIGHT ES TALE.
And though that I no wepen have in this place,
But out of prifon am aftert by grace,
I drede nought that eyther thou shalt die
Or thou ne fhalt nat loven Emelie :
Chefe which thou wolt, for thou shalt not afterte.
This Arcite, tho with ful difpitous herte,
Whan he him knew, and had his tale herd,
As fers as a leon pulled out a fwerd,
And fayde thus; By God that fitteth above,
N'ere it that thou art fike and wood for love,
And eke that thou no wepen haft in this place,
Thou fhuldeft never out of this grove pace,
That thou ne fhuldeft dien of min hond;
For I defie the furetee and the bond
Which that thou faift that I have arade to thee.
What! veray fool, thinke wel that love is free,
And I wol love hire maugre all thy might.
But for thou art a worthy gentil knight,
And wilneft to darraine hire by bataille,
Have here my trouth, to morwe I will not faille,
Withouten weting of any other wight,
That here I wol be founden as a knight,
And bringen harneis right ynough for thee,
And chefe the befte, and leve the werfte for me:
And mete and drinke this night wol I bring
Ynough for thee, and cloathes for thy bedding;
And if fo be that thou my lady win,
And fle nie in this wode, ther I am in,
Thou maiſt wel have thy lady as for me.
This Palamon anfwered, I grant it thee:
And thus they ben departed till a morwe.
When eche of hem hath laid his faith to borwe.
O Cupide! out of alle charitee,
O regne! that wolt no felaw have with thee,
Ful foth is fayde, that love ne lordſhip
Wol nat his thankes have no felawſhip.
Wel finden that Arcite and Palamon.
Arcite is ridden anone unto the toun,
And on the morwe, or it were day light,
Ful prively two harneis hath he dight,
Both fuffifant and mete to darreine
The bataille in the field betwix hem tweine;
And on his hors, alone as he was borne,
He carieth all this harneis him beforne;
And the grove, at time and place yſette,
This Arcite and this Palamon ben mette.
Tho changen gan the colour in hir face,
Right as the hunter in the regne of Trace
That ftondeth at a gappe with a fpere,
Whan hunted is the lion or the bere,
And hereth him come rufhing in the greves,
And breking bothe the boughes and the leves.
And thinketh bere cometh my mortal enemy,
Withouten faile he muſt be ded or I :
For eyther I mote flain him at the gappe,
Or he mote len me if that me miſhappe.
So ferden they in changing of hir hewe,
As fer as eyther of hem other knewe.
Ther n' as no good day, ne no faluing,
But ftreit withouten wordes reherfing
Everich of hem halpe to armen other
As frendly as he were his owen brother;
And after that with fharpe fperes ſtrong
They foineden eche at other wonder long.
Thou mighteſt wenen that this Palamon
In his fighting were as wood leon,
And as a cruel tigre was Arcite :
As wilde bores gan they togeder ſmite,
That frothen white as fome for ire wood;
Up to the ancle foughte they in hir blood;
And in this wife I let hem fighting dwelle,
And forth I wol of Thefeus you telle.
The deſtinee, miniftre general,
That executeth in the world over al
The purveiance that God hath fen beforne,
So ftrong it is, that though the world hatlr fworne
The contrary of a thing by ya or nay,
Yet fomtime it fhall fallen on a day
That falleth nat efte in a thouſand yere
For certainly our appetites here,
Be it of werre, or pees, or hate, or love,
All is this ruled by the fight above.
This mene I now by mighty Thefeus,
That for to hunten is fo defirous,
And namely at the grete hart in May,
That in his bed ther daweth him no day
That he n'is clad, and redy for to ride
With haute and horne, and houndes him befide
For in his hunting hath he fwiche delite,
That it is all his joye and appetite
To ben himſelf the grete harts bane;
For after Mars he ſerveth now Diane.
Clere was the day, as I have told or this,
And Thefeus, with alle joye and blis,
With his Ipolitia, the fayre quene,
And Emelie, yclothed all in grene,
On hunting ben thy ridden really:
And to the grove, that ſtood ther faſte by,
In which ther was an hart as men him told,
Duk Thefeus the ftreite way hath hold,
And to the launde he rideth him ful right,
Ther was the hart ywont to have his flight,
And over a brooke, and fo forth on his wey.
This duk wol have a cours at him or twey
With houndes, fwiche as him luft to commaunde.
And when this duk was comen to the launde,
Under the fonne he loked, and anon
He was ware of Arcite and Palamon,
That foughten breme, as it were bolles two;
'The brighte fwerdes wenten to and fro
So hidouſly that with the lefte ftroke
It femed that it wolde felle an oke,
But what they weren nothing he ne wote:
This duk his courfer with his fporres fmote,
And at a ftert he was betwix hem two,
And pulled out a fwerd and cried, Ho!
No more, up peine of lefing of your hed;
By mighty Mars he fhall anon be ded
That fmiteth any ftroke that I may fen!
But telleth me what miftere men ye ben,
That ben fo hardy for to fighten here
Withouten any juge or other officere,
As though it were in liftes really.
This Palamon anſwered haftily
And faide; Sire, what nedeth wordes mo?
We have the deth deferved bothe twQ÷
Two woful wretches ben we, two caitives,
That ben accombred of our owen lives,
}
16
THE KNIGHTES TALE.
And as thou art a rightful lord and juge
Nc yeve us neyther mercie ne refuge;
And lle me firft for feinte charitee,
But fle my felaw eke as wel as me;
Or fle him firſt, for though thou know it lite,
This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite,
That fro thy lond is baniſhed on his hed,
For which he hath deferved to be ded;
For this is he that came unto thy gate,
And fayde that he highte Philoftrate.
Thus hath he japed thee ful many a yere,
And thou haft maked him thy chief fquicre;
And this is he that loveth Emelie.
For fith the day is come that I fhal die
I make plainly my confeffion,
That I am thilke woful Palamon
That hath thy prifon broken wilfully:
I am thy mortal fo, and it am I
That loveth fo hot Emelie the bright.
That I wold dien preſent in hire fight,
Therfore I axe deth and my iewife,
But fle my felaw in the fame wife,
For both we have deferved to be flain.
This worthy duk anfwerd anon again,-
And fayd, This is a fhort conclufion;
Your owen mouth, by your confeffion,
Hath damned you, and I wol it recorde;
It nedeth not to pine you with the corde:
Ye fhul be ded by mighty Mars the Rede.
The quene anon for veray womanhede
Gan for to wepe, and fo did Emelie,
And all the ladies in the compagnie.
Gret pite was it, as it thought hem alle,
That ever fwiche a chance fhulde befalle,
For gentilmen they were of gret eftat,
And nothing but for love was this debat;
And fawe hir blody woundes wide and forc,
And alle criden bothe leffe and more,
Have mercie Lord upon us wimmen alle,
And on hir bare knees adoun they falle,
And wold have kift his feet ther as he stood,
Till at the laſt aflaked was his mood;
(For pitee renneth fone in gentil herte)
And though he firft for ire quoke and iterte,
He had confidered ſhortly in a clauſe
The trefpas of hem both, and eke the caufe;
And although that his ire hir gilt accuſed,
Yet in his refon he hem both excufed;
As thus; he thoughte wel that every man
Wol helpe himſelf in love if that he can,
And eke deliver himſelf out of priſon;
And cke his herte had compaffion
Of wimmen, for they wepten ever in on,
And in his gentil herte he thoughte anon,
And foft unto himſelf he fayed, Fie
Upon a lord that wol have no mercie,
But be a leon both in word and dede,
To hem that be in repentance and drede,
As wel as to a proud difpitous man
That wol mainteinen that the firſt began.
'That lord hath litel of difcretion
That in fwiche cas can no divifion,
But wegheth pride and humbleiſe after on.
And Mertly whan his ire is thus
agar,
He gan to loken up with eyen light,
And fpake thefe fame wordes all on hight.
The god of Love, a benedicite!
How mighty and how grete a lord is he?
Again his might ther gainen non obſtacles,
He may be cleped a God for his miracles,
For he can maken at his owen gife
Of everich herte as that him liſt deviſe.
Lo here this Arcite, and this Palamon,
That quitely weren out of my prifon,
And might have lived in Thebes really,
And weten I am hir mortal enemy,
And that hir deth lith in my might alſo,
And yet hath love, maugre hir eyen two,
Ybrought hem hither both for to die;
Now loketh, is not this an heigh folie
Who may ben a fool, but if that be love?
Behold for Goddes fake that fitteth above,
So how they blede! be they not wel araied?
Thus hath hir lord, the god of Love, hem paied
Hir wages, and hir fees for hir fervice,
And yet they wenen for to be ful wife
That ferven Love for ought that may befalle.
And yet is this the befte game of alle,
That the for whom they have this jolite
Con hem therfore as mochel thank as me.
She wot no more of alle this hote fare,
By God, than wot a cuckow or an hare.
But all mote ben affaied hote or cold;
A man mote ben a fool other yonge or old;
I wot myſelf ful yore agon,
For in my time a fervant was I on;
And therefore fith I know of loves peine,
And wot how fore it can a man deftreine,
As he that oft hath been caught in his las,
I you foryeve all holly this treſpas,
At requeſt of the quene that kneleth here,
And eke of Emelie, my fufter dere,
And ye fhul both anon unto me fwere
That never mo ye fhul my contree dere,
Ne maken werre upon me night ne day,
But ben ny frendes in alle that ye may.
I
you foryeve this trefpas every del.
And they him fware his axing fayr and wel,
And him of lordſhip and of niercie praid,
And he hem granted grace, and thus he ſaid :-
To fpeke of real linage and richeffe,
Though that she were a quene or a princeffe,
Eche of you bothe is worthy douteles
To wedden whan time is, but natheles,
I fpeke as for my fufter Emelie,
For whom ye have this ftrif and jalousie,
Ye wot yourſelf ſhe may not wedden two
At ones, though ye fighten evermo;
But on of you, al be him loth or lefe,
He mot gon pipen in an ivy lefe:
This is to fay, the may not have you bothe,
Al be ye never fo jalous ne fo wrothe,
And forthy I you put in this degree,
That eche of you ſhall have his deſtinee
As him is ſhape, and herkneth in what wife y
Lo here your ende of that I fhal deviſe,
My will is this for plat concluſion
Withouten any replication,
24
120
THE
17
KNIGHT ES TALE.
If that you liketh, take it for the beſte,
That everich of you ſhal gon wher him lefte
Freely withouten raunfon or dangere.
And this day fifty wekes, ferre ne nere,
Everich of you fhal bring an hundred knightes,
Armed for liftes up at alle rightes,
Alle redy to darrein hire by bataille.
And this behetę I you withouten faille
Upon my trouth, and as I am a knight,
That whether of you bothe hath that might,
This is to fayn, that whether he or thou
May with his hundred, as I ipake of now,
Sle his contrary, or out of liftes drive,
Him fhall I yeven Emelie to wive
To whom that Fortune yeveth ſo fayr a grace.
The liftes fhal I maken in this place,
And God ſo wifly on my foule rewe,
As I fhal even juge ben and trewe.
Ye fhal non other ende with me maken
That on of you ne ſhall be ded or taken;
And if you thinketh this is wel yfaid,
Saith your avis, and holdeth you apaid :
This is your ende and your conclufion,
Who loketh lightly now but Palamon?
Who fpringeth up for joye but Arcite?
Who coud it tell, or who coud it endite,
The joye that is maked in the place
Whan Thefeus hath don fo fayre a grace?
But doun on knees went every manere wight,
And thanked him with all hir hertes might,
And namely thefe Thebanes often fith.
And thus with good hope and with herte blith
They taken hir leve, and homeward gan they ride
To Thebes, with his olde walles wide.
I trowe men wolde deme it negligence
If I foryete to tellen the difpence
Of Thefeus, that goth ſo befily
To maken up the liftes really,
That (wiche a noble theatre as it was
I dare wel fayn in all this world ther n'as :
The circuite a mile was aboute
Walled of ftone, and diched all withoute;
Round was the fhape, in manere of a compas
Ful of degrees, the hight of fixty pas,
That whan a man was fet on o degree
He letted not his felaw for to fee.
Eftward ther ftood a gate of marbel white,
Westward right ſwiche another in th' oppofite;
And ſhortly to concluden, fwiche a place
Was never in erthe in fo litel a ſpace,
For in the lond ther n'as no craftes man
Than geometrie or arfemetrike can,
Ne portreióur, ne kerver of images,
That Thefeus ne yaf him mete and wages
The theatre for to maken and devife.
And for to don his rite and facrifice
He eftward hath upon the gate above,
:
In worſhip of Venus goddeffe of Love,
Don make an auter and in oratorie,
And weftward, in the minde and in memorie
Of Mars he maked hath right fwiche another,
That cofte largely of gold a fother:
And northward, in a touret on the wall,
Of alabaſtre white and red corall
An oratorie riche for to fee,
In worship of Diane of chaſtitee,
Hath Thefeus den wrought in noble wife.
But yet had I foryetten to devife
The noble kerving and the portreitures,
The fhape, the contenance, of the figures
That weren in theſe oratories three.
Firſt in the temple of Venus maiſt thou fee
Wrought on the wall, ful pitous to beholde,
The broken flepes, and the files colde,
The facred teres, and the waimentinges,
The firy ftrokes of the defiringes,
'That Loves fervantes in this lif enduren,
The othes that hir covenants affuren.
Plefance and Hope, Defire, Foolhardineffe,
Beaute and Youthe, Baudrie and Richeſſe,
Charmes and Force, Lefiuges and Flaterie,
Difpence, Befineffe, and Jaloufie,
That wered of yelwe goldes a gerlond,
And hadde a cuckow fitting on hire hond,
Feftes, inftruments, and caroles and dances,
Luft and array, and all the circumſtances
Of Love, which that I reken and reken ſhall,
By ordre weren peinted on the wall,
And mo than I can make of mention :
For fothly all the mount of Citheron,
Ther Venus hath hire principal dwelling,
Was fhewed on the wall in purtreying,
With all the gardin, and the luftineffe:
Nought was foryetten the porter Idelneffe,
Ne Narciffus the fayre of yore agon,
Ne yet the folie of King Salomon,
Ne yet the grete ftrengthe of Hercules.
Th' enchantment of Medea and Circes,
Ne of Turnus the hardy hiers corage,
The riche Crefus caitif in fervage.
Thus may ye feen that wiſdom ne richeffe,
Beaute ne fleighte, frengthe ne hardineſſe,
Ne may with Venus hoiden champartie,
For as hire lifte the world may fhe gie.
Lo, all thefe folk fo caught were in hire las
Til they for wo ful often faid Alas!
Sufficeth here enfamples on or two,
And yet I coude reken a thouſand mo.
The ftatue of Venus, glorious for to fee,
Was naked fleting in the large ſee,
And fro the navel doun all covered was
With wawes grene, and bright as any glas
A citole in hire right hand hadde ſhe,
And on hire hed, ful femely for to fee,
A rofe gerlond freſh and wel ſmelling,
Above hire hed hire doves fleckering:
Before hire food hire fone Cupido,
Upon his fhoulders winges had he two,
And blind he was, as it is often fene;
A bow he bare and arwes bright and kene.
Why fhulde I not as wel eke tell you all
The purtreiture that was upon the wall
Within the temple of mighty Mars the Rede?
All peinted was the wall in length and brede
Like to the eftres of the grifly place
That highte the gret temple of Mars in Trace,
In thilke colde and frofty region,
Ther as Mats hath his foverejne man£on.
E
18
F
THE KNIGHT ÉS TALE.
1
Firft on the wall was peinted a foreſt,
In which ther wonneth neyther man ne beſt,
With knotty knarry barrein trees old
Of ftubbes fharpe and hidous to behold,
In which ther ran a romble and a fwough,
As though a forme fhuld breften every bough;
And dounward from an hill under a bent
Ther ftood the temple of Mars Armipotent,
Wrought all of burned ftele, of which th' entree
Was longe and ftreite, and ghaftly for to fee
And thereout came a rage and fwiche a vife
"That it made all the gates for to rife.
The northern light in at the dore fhone,
For window on the wall ne was ther none
Thurgh which men mighten any light difcerne :
'The dore was all of athamant eterne,
Yclenched overthwart and endelong
With yren tough, and for to make it ſtrong,
Ever piler the temple to fuftene
Was tonne-gret, of yren bright and fhene.
Ther faw I firft the derke imagining
Of Felonie, and alle the compaffing;
The cruel ire, red as any glede,
'The pikepurfe, and eke the pale drede,
The ſmiler with the knif under the cloke,
The fhepen brening with the blake ſmoke,
The trefon of the mordring in the bedde,
The open werre, with woundes all bebledde ;
Conteke with blody knif and fharp manace:
All full of chirking was that forry place.
"The fleer of himfelf yet faw I there,
His herte blood hath bathed all his here;
'The naile ydriven in the ſhode on hight,
The cold deth, with mouth gaping upright.
Amiddes of the temple fate Mifchance,
With diſcomfort and forry contenance ;
Yet faw I Woodneffe laughing in his rage,
Armed Complaint, Outhees, and fires Outrage ;
The carraine in the bufh, with throte ycorven ;
A thouſand flain, and not of qualme yftorven ;
The tirant, with the prey by force yraft ;
'The toun deftroied, ther was nothing laft:
Yet faw I brent the ſhippes hoppeſteres,
*The hunte yftrangled with the wilde beres ;
The fow freting the child right in the cradel,
'The coke yfcalled for all his long ladel:
Nought was foryete by th' infortune of Marte
'The carter overridden with his carte;
Under the wheel ful low he lay adoun.
1
Ther were alfo of Martes divifion
'Th' armerer and the bowyer, and the ſmith,
That forgeth fharp fwerdes on his ſtith;
And all above depeinted in a tour
Saw I a Conqueft, fitting in gret honour,
With thilke fharp fwerd over his hed
Yhanging by a fubtil twined thred.
Depeinted was the flaughter of Julius,
Of gret Nero and of Antonius:
All be that thilke time they were unborne,
Yet was hir deth depeinted ther beforne,
By menacing of Mars, right by figure,
So was it fhewed in that purtreiture
As is depeinted in the cercles above,
Who fhal be flaine or elles ded for love,
Sufficeth on enfample in ftories ofde
I may not reken hem alle though I wolde
The ſtatue of Mars upon a carte ſtood
Armed, and loked grim as he were wood,
And over his hed thier fhinen two figures
Of ſterres that ben cleped in fcriptures,
That on Puella, that other Rubeus.
This god of Armes was araied thus;
A wolf ther ftood beforne him at his fete
With eyen red, and of a man he ete:
With fubtil penfil peinted was this ſtorie,
In redouting of Mars and of his glorie.
/ Now to the temple of Diane the chafte
As fhortly as I can I wol me haſte,
To tellen you of the defcriptioun,
Depeinted by the walles up and doun,
Of hunting and of fhamefaft chaſtitee.
Ther faw I how woful Califtope,
Whan that Diane agreved was with here,
Was turned from a woman til a bere,
And after was fhe made the lodefterre:
Thus was it peinted, I can fay no ferre;
Hire fone is eke a fterre as men may fee.
Ther faw I Dane yturned til a tree,
I mene not hire the goddeffe Diane,
But Peneus daughter, which that highte Dane.
Ther faw I Atteon an hart ymaked,
For vengeance that he ſaw Diane all naked:
I ſaw how that his houndes have him caught,
And freten him, for that they knew him naught,
Yet peinted was a litel forthermore
How Athalante hunted the wilde bore,
And Meleagre, and many another mo,
For which Diane wroughte hem care and wo.
Ther faw I many another wonder ſtorie,
The which me lifte not drawen to memorie.
This goddeffe on an hart ful heye fete,
With fmale houndes all about hire fete,
And undernethe hire feet fhe hadde a mone,
Wexing it was, and fhulde wanen fone.
In gaudy grene hire ftatue clothed was,
With bow in hond, and arwes in a cas.
Hire eyen cafte fhe fut low adoun,
Ther Pluto hath his derke regioun.
A woman travailling was hire beforne,
But for hire childe fo longe was unborne
Ful pitoufly Lucina gan fhe call,
And fayed; Helpe, for thou mayeft befte of all,
Wel coude he peinten lifly that it wrought,
With many a florein he the hewes bought.
Now ben thefe liftes made, and Thefeus
That at his grete coft arraied thus
The temples, and the theatre everidel,
Whan it was don him liked wonder wel..
But ftint I wol of Thefeus a lite,
And ſpeke of Palamon and of Arcite,
The day approcheth of hir returning,
That everich fhuld an hundred knightes bring,
That bataille to derrein, as I you told;
And til Athenes hir covenant for to hold,
Hath everich of hem brought an hundred knightęs
Wel armed for the werre at alle rightes,
And fikerly ther trowed many a man
That never fithen that the world began,
THE KNIGHTES TALE.
TG
'
As for to fpeke of knighthood of hir hond,
As fer as God hath meked fee and lond,
N'as of fo fewe fo noble a compagnie ;
For every wight that loved chevalrie,
And wold his thankes han a paffant name,
Hath praied that he might ben of that game,
And wel was him that therto chofen was,
For if ther fell tc-morwe fuch a cas,
Ye knowen wel that every lufty knight
That loveth par amour, and hath his might,
Were it in Englelond or ellefwher,
They wold hir thankes willen to be ther.
To fight for a lady, a benedicite!
It were a lufty fighte for to fe.
And right fo ferden they with Palamon.
With him ther wenten knightes mary on;
Som wol ben armed in an habergeon,
And in a breft plate, and in a gipon;
And fom wol have a pair, of plates large,
And fom wol have a Pruce ſheld or a targe;
Som wol ben armed on his legges wele,
And have an axe, and fome a mace of ftele.
Ther n'is no newe guife that it n'as old.
Armed they weren as I have you told,
Everich after his opinion.
Ther maiſt thou fe coming with Palamón
Licurge himſelf, the grete King of Trace;
Blake was his berd, and manly was his face;
The cercles of his eyen in his hed
They gloweden betwixen yelwe and red,
And like a griffon loked he about,
With kemped heres on his browes ftout;
His limmes gret, his braunes hard and ftronge,
His ſhouldres brode, his armes round and longe;
And as the guife was in his contree,
Ful highe upon a char of gold ftood he.
With foure white bolles in the trais.
Inftede of cote armure on his harnais,
With nayles yelwe, and bright as any gold,
He hadde a beres fkin, cole-blake for old.
His longe here was kempt behind his bak,
As any ravenes fether it fhone for blake.
A wreth of gold arm-gret, of huge weight,
Upon his hed fate ful of ftones bright,
Of fine rubins and of diamants.
About his char ther wenten white alauns,
Twenty and mo, as gret as any ftere,
To hunten at the leon or the dere,
And fölwed him, with mofel faft ybound,
Colered with gold, and torettes filed round.
An hundred lordes had he in his route
Armed full wel, with hertes fterne and ſtoute.
With Arcita, in ftories as men find,
The gret Emetrius the King of Inde,
Upon a ftede bay, trapped in ftele,
Covered with cloth of gold diapred wele,
Came riding like the god of armes Mars;
His cote armure was of a cloth of Tars,
Couched with perles white, and round, and grete;
His fadel was of brent gold new ybete;
A mantelet upon his fhouldres hanging
Bret-ful of rubies red, as fire fparkling;
His crifpe here like ringes was yronne,
And that was yelwe, and glitered as the fonne;
His noſe was high, his eyen bright citrin,
His lippes round, his colour was fanguin,
A fewe fraknes in his face yfpreint,
Betwixen yelwe and blake fomdel ymeint,
And as a leon he his loking cafte,
Of five-and-twenty yere his age I cafte;
His berd was wel begonnen for to ſpring,
His vois was as a trompe thondering;
Upon his hede he wered of laurer grene,
A gerlond freshe and lufty for to fene;
Upon his hond he bare for his deduit
An egle tame, as any lily whit:
An hundred lordes had he with him there,
All armed fave hir hedes in all hir gere,
Ful richely in alle manere thinges;
For trufteth wel that erles, dukes, kinges,
Were gathered in this noble compagnie,
For love and for encrefe of chevalrie.
About this king ther ran on every part
Ful many a tame leon and leopart.
And in this wife thefe lordes all and fome
Ben on the Sonday to the citee come
Abouten prime, and in the toun alight.
This Thefeus, this duk, this worthy knight,
Whan he had brought hem into his citee,
And inned hem eveřich at his degree,
He feſteth hem, and doth fo gret labour
To efen hém, and don hem all honour,
That yet men wenen that no mannes wit
Of non cftat ne coud amenden it.
The minſtralcie, the fervice at the fefte,
The grete yeftes to the moft and lefte,
The riche array of Thefeus paleis,
Ne who fate firft ne laft upon the deis,
What ladies fayreft ben or beft dancing,
Or which of hem can carole beſt or fing,
Ne who moſt felingly ſpeketh of love,
What haukes fitten on the perche above,
What houndes liggen on the floor adoun,
Of all this now make I no mentioun.
But of the effect, that thinketh me the beſte
Now cometh the point, and herkeneth if you lefte
The Sonday nighte or day began to ſpring,
Whan Palamon the larke herde fing,
Although it n'ere not day by houres two,
Yet fang the larke, and Palamon right tho
With holy herte, and with an high corage
He rofe, to wenden on his pilgrimage
Unto the blissful Citherea benigne,
I mene Venus, honourable and digne.
And in hire houre he walketh forth a pas
Unto the liftes, ther hire temple was,
And doun he kneleth, and with humble chere
And herte fore he fayde as ye fhul here :
Fayreſt of fayre, o lady min Venus,
Daughter to Jove, and fpoufe of Vulcanus,
Thou glader of the Mount of Citheron!
For thilke love thou haddeft to Adon,
Have pitee on my bitter teres fmert,
And take myn humble prair at thin herte.
Alas! I ne have no langage to tell'
'The effecte ne the torment of min hell;
Min herte may min harmes not bewrey;
I am fo confuſe that 1 cannot fay :
00
Bij
20
KNIGHT ES TAL E:
THE
But mercy, lady bright! that knoweft wele
My thought, and feeft what harmes that I fele :
Confider all this, and rue upon my fore,'
As wifly as I fhal for evermore
Emforth my might thy trewe fervant be,
And holden werre alway with chaſtite;
That make I min avow fo ye me helpe,
I kepe nought of armes for to yelpe,
Ne axe I nat to-morwe to have victorie,
Ne renoun in this cas, ne vaine glorie
Of pris of armes, blowen up and doun,
But I wold have fully poffeffioun
Of Emelie, and die in her fervife;
Find thou the manere how, and in what wife.
I rekke not but it may better be
To have victorie of hem, or they of me
So that I have my lady in min armes;
For though fo be that Mars is god of Armes,
Your vertue is fo grete in heven above,
That if you lifte I fhal wel have my love.
Thy temple wol I worship evermo,
And on thin auter, wher I ride or go,
I wol don facrifice, and fires bete.
And if ye wol not fo, my lady fwete!
Than pray I you to-morwe with a ſpere
That Arcita me thurgh the herte bere ;
'Than rekke I not when I have loft my lif
Though that Arcita win hire to his wif.
This is the effecte and ende of my praiere,
Yeve me my love thou blifsful lady dere!
When the orifon was don of Palamon
His facrifice he did, and that anon,
Ful pitoufly, with alle circumftances,
All tell I not as now his obfervances.
But at the laft the ftatue of Venus fhoke,
And made a figne whereby that he toke
That his praiere accepted was that day;
For though the figne fhewed a delay,
Yet wift he wel that granted was his bone,
And with glad herte he went him home ful fone.
The thridde hour inequal that Palamon
Began to Venus temple for to gon.
Up rofe the fonne, and up rofe Emelie,
And to the temple of Diane gun hie.
Hire maydens that fhe thider with hire ladde
Ful redily with hem the fire they hadde,
Th' encenfe, the clothes, and the remenant all,
That to the facrifice longen fhall,
The hornes ful of mede, as was the gife;
Ther lakked nought to don hire facrifife.
Smoking the temple, ful of clothes fayre,
'This Emelic with herte debonaire
Hire body wesfle with water of a well,
But how ſhe did hire rite I dare not tell,
But it be any thing in general,
And yet it were a game to heren all;
To him that meneth wel it n'ere no charge;
But it is good a man to ben at large.
Hire bright here kembed was, untreffed all;
A coroute of a grene oke cerial
Upon hire hed was fet ful fayre and mete :
Two fires on the auter gan fhe bete,
And did hire thinges as men may behold
In Stace of Thebes, and thefe bokes old.
Whan kindled was the fire, with pitous chere
Unto Diane fhe fpoke as ye may here:
O chafte goddeffe of the wodes grene,
To whom both hevèn, and erthe, and fee, is fene,
Quene of the regne of Pluto derke and lowe,
Goddeffe of maydens, that min herte haft knowe
Ful many a yere, and woft what I defire,
As kepe me fro thy vengeance and thin ire,
That Atteon aboughte cruelly!
Chaft goddeffe! wel woteft thou that I
Defire to ben a mayden all my lif,
Ne never wol I be no love ne wif:
I am (thou woft) yet of thy compagnie,
A mayde, and love hunting and venerie,
And for to walken in the wodes wilde,
And not to ben a wif and be with childe;
Nought wol I knowen compagnie of man;
Now helpe me, Lady, fith you may and can,
For though three formes that thou haft in thee:
And Palamon that hath fwiche love to me,
And eke Arcite, that loveth me fo fore,
This grace I prafe thee withouten more,
As fende love and pees betwix em two,
And fro me torne away hir hertes fo,
That all hir hote love and hir defire,
And all hir befy torment and hir fire
Be queinte, or torned in another place.
And if fo be thou wolt not do me grace,
Or if my deftinee be fhapen fo
That I fhal nedes have on of hem two,
As fende me him that moſt defireth me.
Beholde, goddeffe of clene Chaftite,
The bitter teres that on my chekes fall:
Sin thou art mayde, and keper of us all,
My maydenhede thou kepe and well conferve,
And while I live a mayde I wol thee ferve.
The fires brenne upon the auter clere
While Emelie was thus in hire praierc,
But fodenly the faw a fighte queinte;
For right anon on of the fires quiente
And quiked again, and after that anon
That other fire was queinte and all agon,
And as it queinte it made a whifteling
As don thefe brondes wet in hir brenning;
And at the brondes ende outran anon
As it were blody dropes many on;
For which fo fore agaft was Enrelie,
That she was wel neigh mad, and gan to crię,
For fhe ne wifte what it fignified,
But only for the fere thus fhe cried
And wept, that it was pitee for to here.
And there withall Diane gan appere
With bowe in hond, right as an huntereffe,
And fayde, Doughter, ftint thin hevineffe.
Among the goddes highe it is aftermed,
And by eterne word written and confermed,
Thou shalt be wedded unto on of tho
That han for thee fo mochel care and wo,
But unto which of hem I may not tell.
Farewel, for here I may no longer dwell;
The fires which that on min auter brenne
Shal thee declaren er that thou go henne
Thin aventure of love as in this cas.
And with that word the arwes in the cas
THE
KNIGHT ES TA L E.
Of the goddeffe clatteren faſt and ring,
And forth the went and made a vaniſhing,
For which this Emelie aftonied was,
And fayde, What amounteth this, alas!
I putte me in thy protection
Diane, and in thy difpofition.
And home fhe goth anon the nexte way.
This is the effecte; ther n'is no more to fay.
The nexte houre of Mars folwing this
Arcite unto the temple walked is
Of fierce Mars, to don his facrifife
With all the rites of his payen wife.
With pitous herte and high devotion
Right thus to Mars he fayde his orifon :
O ftronge God, that in the regnes cold
Of Trace honoured art, and lord yhold,
And haft in every regne and every lond
Of armes all the bridel in thin hond,
And hem fortuneft as thee lift deviſe,
Accept of me my pitous facrifife'
If fo be that my youthe may deferve,
And that my might be worthy for to ferve
Thy godhed, that I may ben on of thine,
Than praie I thee to rewe upon my pine,
For thilke peine and thilke hote fire
In which thou whilom brendeft for defire
Whanne that thou ufedeft the beautee
Of fayre yonge Venus freſhe and free,
And haddef hire in armies at thy wille;
Although the ones on a time misälle,
When Vulcanus had caught thee in his las,
And fond thee ligging by his wif, alas!
For thilke forwe that was tho in thin herte
Have reuthe as wel upon my peines fmerte.
I am yonge and unkonning as thou woft,
And, as I trow, with love offended moſt
That ever was ony lives creature ;
For fhe that doth me all this wo endure
Ne recceth never whether I finke or flete;
And wel I wot or fhe me mercy hete
Imofte with ftrengthe win hire in the place;
And wel I wot withouten helpe or grace
Of thee ne may my ftrengthe not availle;
Than helpe me, Lord, to-morwe in my bataille,
For thilke fire that whilom brenned thee,
As wel as that this fire now brenneth me,
And do, that I to-morwe may han vidorie :
Min be the travaille and thin be the glorie.
Thy foveraine temple wol I moſt honouren
Of ony place, and alway moſt labouren
In thy plefance and in thy craftes ſtrong;
And in thy temple I wol my baner hong,
And all the armies of my compagnie,
And evermore until that day I die
Eterne fire I wol beforne thee find;
And eke to this avow I wol be bind.
My berd, my here that hangeth long adoun,
That never yet felt non offenfioun
Of rafour ne of fhere I wol thee yeve,
And ben thy trewe fervant while I live.
Now, Lord, have reuthe upon my forwes fore;
Yeve me the victorie; I axe thee no more,
The praier ftint of Arcita the ſtronge,
The ringes on the temple dore that honge,
And eke the dores, clatterden ful faſt,
Of which Arcita fomwhat him agaft.
The fires brent upon the auter bright
That it gan all the temple for to light;
A fwete fimell anon the ground up yaf,
And Arcita anon his hond up haf,
And more enfcenfe into the fire he caft,
With other rites mo, and at the laft
The ftatue of Mars began his hauberke ring,
And with that foun he herd a murmuring
Ful low and dim, that faid thus, Victorie;
For which he yaf to Mars honour and glorie.
And thus with joye and hope wel to fare
Arcite anon unto his inne is fare
As fayn as foul is of the brighte fonne.
And right anon fwiche ftrif ther is begonne
For thilke granting in the heven above
Betwixen Venus the goddeffe of Love,
And Mars the ferne god Armipotent,
That Jupiter was befy it to ftent,
Til that the pale Saturnus the Colde,
That knew fo many of aventures olde,
Fond in his olde experience and art
That he ful fone hath plefed every part.
As footh is fayd, elde hath gret avantage;
In elde is both wifdem and ufage :
Men may the old out-rende but not cut-rede,
Saturne anon, to ftenten ftrif and drede,
Albeit that it is again his kind,
Of all this ftrif he gan a remedy find.
My dere doughtere Venus! quod Saturne,
My cours that hath fo wide for to turne
Hath more power than wot any man.
Min is the drenching in the fee fo wan,
Min is the prifon in the derke cote,
Min is the rangel and hanging by the throte,
The murmure, and the cherles rebelling,
The groyning, and the prive empoyfoning.
I do vengeance and pleine correction
While I dwell in the figne of the Leon.
Min is the ruine of the highe halles,
The falling of the toures and of the walles
Upon the miour or the carpenter;-
I flew Samfon in fhaking the piler.
Min ben alfo the maladies colde,
The derke trefons and the caftes olde :
My loking is the fader of Peftilence.
Now wepe no more, I fhal do diligence
That Palamon, that is thin owen knight,
Shal have his lady, as thou haft him hight.
Thogh Mars fhal help his knight yet natheles.
Betwixen you ther mot fometime be pecs:
All be ye not of o complexion
That caufeth all day fwiche divifion.
I am thin ayel, redy at thy will;
Wepe now no more, 1 fhall thy luft fulfill.
Now woll ftenten of the goddes above,
Of Mars and of Venus goddeffe of Love,
And tellen you as plainly as I can
'The gret effect for which that I began.
Gret was the feſte in Athenes thilke day,
And cke the lufty fefon of that May
Made every wight to ben in fwiche plefance,
That all that Monday juften they and dance,
And ſpenden it in Venus highe fervife;
But by the caufe that they fhulden rife
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22
TALE.
THE KNIGHT ES
Erly a-morwe for to feen the fight,
Unto hir refte wenten they at night.
And on the morwe whan the day gan ſpring
Of hors and harneis noife and clattering
Ther was in the hoftelries all aboute,
And to the paleis rode ther many a route
Of lordes upon ftedes and palfreis.
Ther mayeft thou fee devifing of harneis
So uncouth and fo riche, and wrought fo wele
Of goldsmithry, of brouding and of tele;
The theldes brighte, tefteres, and trappures,
Gold-hewen helmes, hauberkes, cotc armures;
Lordes in parementes on hir courferes,
Knightes of retenue, and eke fquieres,
Nailing the fperes, and helmes bokeling,
Guiding of fheldes, with lainers lacing;
Ther as nede is they weren nething idel;
The fomy ftedes on the golden bridel
Gnawing, and faft the armures alfo
With file and hanımer priking to and fro;
Yemen on foot, and conmunes many on
With ſhorte ſtaves, thicke as they may gon;
Pipes, trompes, nakeres, and clariounes,
That in the battaille blowen blody founes;
The paleis ful of peple up and doun,
Here three, ther ten, holding hir queſtioun,
Devining of theſe Theban knightes two,
Som fayden thus, fom fayde it fhall be fo;
Som helden with him with the blacke berd,
Som with the balled, fom with the thick herd;
Som faide he loked grim, and wolde fighte;
He hath a fparth of twenty pound of wighte.
Thus was the halle full of devining
Long after that the fonne gan up fpring.
The gret Thefeus that of his flepe is waked
With minftralcie and noife that was maked,
Held yet the chambre of his paleis riche,
Til that the Theban knightes bothe yliche
Honoured were, and to the paleis fette.
Duk Thefeus is at a window fette.
Araied right as he were a god in trone:
The peple pref th thiderward ful fonc,
Him for to feen and don high reverence,
And eke to herken his hefte and his fentence,
An heraud on a ſcaffold made an O,
Til that the noife of the peple was ydo,
And whan he faw the peple of noiſe al ſtill
Thus fhewed he the mighty dukes will.
The lord hath of his high difcretion
Confidered that it were deflruction
To gentil blood to fighten in the gife
Of mortal bataille now in this empriſe;
Wherefore to fhapen that they fhul not die,
He wol his firfte purpos modifie.
No inan therefore, up peine of loffe of lif,
No maner hot ne pollax ne fhort knif
Into the liftes fend or thider bring,
Ne fhort fwerd for to ftike with point biting,
No man ne draw ne bere it by his fide;
Ne no man fhal unto his felaw ride
But o cours, with a fharpe ygrounden fpere;
Foin if him lift on foot, himſelf to were:
And he that is at mefchief fhal be take,
And not flaine, but be brought unto the ſtake
That fhal ben ordeined on eyther fide;
Thider he fhal by force, and ther abide :
And if fo fall the chevetain be take
On eyther fide, or elles fleth his make,
No longer fhal the tourneying ylaſt.
God fpede you; goth forth and lay on faft:
With longe fwerd and with mafe fighteth your fill.
Goth now your way; this is the lordes will.
The vois of the peple touched to the heven,
Se loude crieden they with mery ſteven,
God fave ſwiche a lord that is ſo good,
He wilneth no deftruction of blood.
Up gon the trompes and the melodie,
And to the liftes rit the compagnie
By ordinance, thurghout the cite large,
Hanged with cloth of gold and not with farge,
Ful like a lord this noble duk gan ride,
And theſe two Thebans upon eyther fide,
And after rode the quene and Emelie,
And after that another compagnie
Of on and other after hir degree;
And thus they paffen thurghout the citee,
And to the liftes comen they be time:
It n'as not of the day yet fully prime.
Whan fet was Thefeus ful riche and hie,
Ipolita the quene, and Emelie,
And other ladies in degrees aboute,
Unto the fetes prefeth all the route.
And weftward thurgh the gates under Mart
Arcite, and eke the hundred of his part,
With banet red, is entred right anon;
And in the felve moment Palamon
Is, under Venus, eftward in the place,
With baner white, and hardy chere and face,
In all the world to ſeken up and doun,
So even without variatioun
Ther n'ere fwiche compagnies never twey;
For ther was non fo wife that coude fey
That any hadde of other avantage
Of worthineffe, ne of eftat ne age,
So even were they chofen for to geffe:
And in two renges fayre they hem dreffe.
Whan that hir names red were everich on,
That in her nombre gile were ther non,
Tho were the gates fhette, and cried was loude,
Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude.
The heraudes left hir priking up and doun.
Now ringin trompes loud and clarioun.
Ther is no more to fay, but eft and weſt
In gon the fperes fadly in the reſt ;
In goth the fharpe ſpore into the fide;
Ther fee men who can jufte and who can ride
Ther fhiveren fhaftes upon fheldes thicke;
He feleth thurgh the herte fpone the pricke :
Up fpringen fperes twenty foot on highte;
Out gon the fwerdes as the filver brighte:
The helmes they to-hewen and to-fhrede;
Out breft the blod with fterne ftremes rede:
With mighty maces the bones they to-brefte;
He thurgh the thickeſt of the throng gan threfte e ;
Ther ftomblen ftedes ftrong, and doun goth all;
He rolleth under foot as doth a ball:
He foineth on his foo with a tronchoun,
And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun:
;
THE
23
KNIGHT ES TALI,
He thurgh the body is hurt, and fith ytake
Maugre his hed, and brought unto the ſtake,
As forword was, right ther he muſt abide;
Another lad is on that other fide:
And fomtime doth hem Thefeus to reft,
Hem to refreſh and drinken if hem left.
Ful oft a day han thilke Thebanes two
Togeder met and wrought eche other wo:
Unhorfed hath eche other of hem twey.
Ther n'as no tigre in the vale ef Galaphey,
Whan that hire whelpe is ftole whan it is lite,
So cruel on the hunt as is Arcite
For jalous herte upon this Palamon;
Ne in Belmarie ther n'is fo fell leon
That hunted is, or for his hunger wood,
Ne of his prey defireth fo the blood,
As Palamon to fleen his foo Arcite :
The jalous ftrokes on hir heimes bite;
Out renneth blood on both her fides rede.
Somtime an ende ther is of every dede;
For er the fonne unto the refte went
The ftrong King Emetrius gan hent
This Palamon, as he fought with Arcite,
And made his fwerd depe in his flesh to bite;
And by the force of twenty is he take
Unyolden, and ydrawen to the ſtake :
And in the refcous of this Palamon
The ſtronge King Licurge is borne adoun;
And King Emetrius for all his ſtrengthe
Is borne out of his fadel a fwerdes lengthe,
So hitte him Palamon or he were take:
But all for nought, he was brought to the ftake:
His hardy herte might him helpen naught;
He mofte abiden whan that he was caught
By force and eke by compofition.
Who forweth now but woful Palamon,
That moſte no more gon again to fight?
And whan that Thefeus had feen that fight
Unto the folk that foughten thus eche on
He cried, Ho! no more, for it is don.
I wol be trewe juge and not partie.
Arcite of Thebes fhal have Emelie,
That by his fortune hath hire fayre ywonne.
Anon ther is a noife of peple begonne
For joye of this fo loud and high withall
It feemed that the liftes fhulden fall.
What can now fayre Venus done above?
What faith fhe now? what doth this quene of Love
But wepeth fo for wanting of hire will
Til that hire teres in the liftes fill:
She fayde, I am afhamed doutelees.
Saturnus fayde, Daughter, hold thy pees:
Mars hath his will, his knight hath all his bone,
And by min hed thou fhalt ben efed fone.
The trompoures with the loud minftralcie,
The heraudes, that fo loude yell and crie,
Ben in hir joye for wele of Dan Arcite.
But herkeneth me, and ftenteth noife a lite,
Whiche a miracle ther befell anon.
This fierce Arcite hath of his helme ydon,
And on a courfer for to fhew his face
He priketh endelong the large place,
Loking upward upon this Emelie,
And he again him caft a frendlich eye,
է
For women, as token in commune,
They folwen all the favour of Fortune)
And was all his in chere as his in herte.
Out of the ground a Fury infernal fterte,
From Pluto fent, at requeſte of Saturne,
For which his hors for fere gan to turne,
And lepte aſide, and foundred as he lepe
And er that Arcite may take any kepe
He pight him on the pomel of his hed,
That in the place he lay as he were de 1,
His breft to-broften with his fadel bow;
As blake he lay as any cole or crow,
So was the blood yronnen in his face.
Anon he was yborne out of the place,
With herte fore, to Thefeus paleis :
Tho was he corven out of his harneis,
And in a bed ybrought ful fayre and blive,
For he was yet in memorie and live,
And alway crying after Emelie.
Duk Thefeus with all his compagnie
Is comen home to Athens his citee
With alle bliffe and gret folempnite.
-.1 be it that this aventure was falle
He n'olde not difcomforten hem alle.
Men fayden eke that Arcite ſhal not die,
He fhal ben heled of his maladie.
And of another thing they were as fayn,
That of hem alle was ther non yflain,
Al were they fore yhurt, and namely on,
That with a ſpere was thirled his breſt bone.
To other woundes and to broken armes
Som hadden falves and fome hadden charmes;
And fermacies of herbes, and eke fave
They dronken, for they wold hir lives have ;
For which this noble duk, as he wel can,
Comforteth and honoureth every man,
And made revel all the longe night
Unto the strange lordes, as was right.
Ne ther n'as holden no diſcomforting
But as at juftes or a tourneying;
For fothly ther n'as no difconfiture,
For falling n'is not but an aventure :
Ne to be lad by force unto a ſtake
Unyolden, and with twenty knightes take,
O perfon all alone, withouten mo,
And haried forth by armes, foot, and too,
And eke his ftede driven forth with ftaves,
With footmen, bothe yemen and eke knaves,
It was aretted him no vilanie ;
Ther may no man clepen it cowardie.
For which anon Duk Thefeus let crie,
To ftenten alle rancour and envie,
The gree as wel of o fide as of other,
And eyther fide ylike, as others brother;
And yave hem giftes after hir degree,
And helde a fefte fully dayes three;
And conveyed the kinges worthily
Out of his toun a journee largely;
And home went every man the righte way;
Ther n'as no more but Farewel, Have good day.
Of this bataille I wol no more endite,
But fpeke of Palamon and of Arcite.
Swelleth the breft of Arcite, and the fore
Encrefeth at his herte more and more.
B iiij
24
THE
KNIGHT ES TALE.
The clotered blood for any leche-craft
Corrumpeth, and is in his bouke ylaft,
That neyther veine-blood ne ventoufing,
Ne drinke of herbes, may ben his helping.
The vertue expulfif or animal,
Frothilke v rtue cleped natural,
Ne may the venime voiden ne expell;
The pipes of his longes gan to fwell,
And every lacerte in his breft adoun
Is fhent with venime and corruptioun.
Him gaineth neyther for to get his lif
Vomit upward ne dounward laxatif :
All is to-broften thilke region;
Nature hath now no domination :
4
And certainly ther nature wol not werche.
Farewel phyfike; go bere the man to cherche.
This is all and fom, that Arcite mofte die ;
For which he fendeth after Emelie,
And Palamon, that was his cofia dere;
Than fayd he thus, as ye fhuln after here.
Nought may the woful ſpirit in myn herte
Declare o point of all my forwes ſmerte
To you my lady, that I love moſt,
But I bequethe the ſervice of my goſt
Tó
you aboven every creature,
Sin that my lif ne may no lenger dure.
Alas the wo! alas the peines ftrong,
That I for you have fuffered, and fo longe!
Alas the deth! alas min Emelie !
Alas departing of our compagnie!
Alas min hertes quene! alas my wif!
Min hertes ladie, ender of my lif!
What is this world? what axen men to have?
Now with his love, now in his colde grave
Alone withouten any compagnie.
Farewel my fwete, farewel min Emelie !
And fofte take me in your armes twey
For love of God, and herkeneth what I fey.
I have here with my cofin Palamon
Had ftrif and rancour many a day agon
For love of you, and for my jaloufie;
And Jupiter fo wis my foule gie, i
'To fpeken of a fervant proprely,
With alle circumftances trewely,
That is to ſayn, trouth, honour, and knighthede,
Wiſdom, humbleffe, eftat, and high kinrede,
Fredom, and all that longeth to that art,
So Jupiter have of my foule part,
As in this world right now ne know I non
So worthy to be loved as Palamon,
That ferveth you, and wol don all his lif;
And if that ever ye fhal ben a wif,
Foryete not Palamon, the gentil man.
And with that word his fpeche faille began;
For from his feet up to his breft was come
The cold of deth that had him overnome;
And yet moreover in his armes two
The vital ftrength is loft and all ago;
Only the intellect, withouten more,
That dwelled in his herte fike and fore,
Gan faillen whan the herte felte deth;
Dufked his eyen two, and failled his breth:
But on his ladie yet caft he his eye;
His late word was, Mercy, Emelie!
;:
His ſpirit changed hous, and wente ther
As I cam never I cannat tellen wher;
Therfore I ftent, I am no diviniſtre;
Of foules find I not in this regiſtre:
Ne me luft not th' opinions to telle
Of hem, though that they written wher they dwelle.
Arcite is cold, ther Mars his foule gic.
Now wol I ſpeken forth of Emelie.
Shright Emelie, and houleth Palamon,
And Thefeus his fifter toke anon
Swouning, and bare her from the corps away.
What helpeth it to tarien forth the day,
To tellen how fhe wep both even and morwe?
For in fwiche cas wimmen have fwiche forwe,
Whan that hir houfbonds ben fro hem ago,
That for the more part they forwen ſo,
Or elles fallen in fwiche maladie,
That atte lafte certainly they die.
Infinite ben the forwes and the teres
Of olde folk and folk of tendre yeres
In all the toun for deth of this Theban;
For him ther wepeth bothe child and man:
So gret a weping was ther non certain
Whan Hector was ybrought all freſh yflain
To Troy: alas! the pitee that was there;
Cratching of chckes, rending eke of here.
Why woldeft thou be ded? thiſe women crie,
And haddeft gold ynough and Emelie.
No man might gladen this Duk Thefeus
Saving his olde fader Egeus,
That knew this worldes tranfmutation,
As he had feen it chaungen up and doun,
Joye after wo, and wo after gladneſſe,
And fhewed him enfample and likeneſſe.
Right as ther died never man (quod he)
That he ne lived in erth in fom degree,
Right fo ther lived never man (he feyd)
In all this world that fomtime he ne deyd:
This world n'is but a thurghfare ful of wo,
And we ben pilgrimes pafling to and fro:
Deth is an end of every worldes fore.
And over all this yet faid he mochel more
To this effect, ful wifely to enhort
The peple that they fhuld hem recomfort.
Duk Thefeus with all his befy cure
He cafteth now wher that the fepulture
Of good Arcite may beft ymaked be,
And eke moft honourable in his degree;
And at the laft he toke conclufion
That ther as firft Arcite and Palamon
Hadden for love the bataille hem betwene,
That in that felve grove, fote and grenc,
Ther as he hadde his amorous defires,
His complaint, and for love his hote fires,
He wolde make a fire, in which the office.
Of funeral he might all accomplife;
And let anon commande to hack and hewe
The okes old, and lay hem on a rew
In culpons, wel araied for to brenne.
His officers with fwifte fect they renne
And ride anon at his commandement.
And after this, this Thefeus hath fent
After a bere, and it all overfpradde
With cloth o`gold the richeſt that he hadde,
THE
TAL E.
KNIGHT ES
And of the fame fuit he cladde Arcite.
Upon his hondes were his gloves white,
Eke on his hed a croune of laurer grene,
And in his hond a fwerd ful bright and kene.
He laid him bare the viſage on the bere,
Therwith he wept that pitee was to here;
And for the peple fhulde feen him alle,
Whan it was day he brought him to the halle,
'That roreth of the crying and the foun.
Tho came this woful Theban Palamon
With flotery berd and ruggy asſhy heres,
In clothes blake, ydropped all with teres,
And (paffing over of weping Emelie)
The reufulleft of all the compagnie.
And in as much as the fervice fhuld be
The inore noble and riche in his degree,
Duk Thefeus let forth three ftedes bring,
That trapped were in ftele all glittering,
And covered with the armes of Dan Arcite;
And eke upon thefe ftedes gret and white
Ther faten folk, of which on bare his ſheld,
Another his ſpere up in his hondes held;
The thridde bare with him his bow Turkeis,
Of brent gold was the cas and the harneis;
And riden forth a pas with forweful chere
Toward the grove, as ye fhal after here.
The nobleit of the Grekes that ther were
Upon hir fhuldres carrieden the bere,
With flacke pas, and eyen red and wete,
Thughout the citee, by the maifter frete,
That Iprad was all with black, and wonder hie
Right of the fame is all the ftrete ywrie.
Upon the right hand went olde Egeus,
And on that other fide Duk Thefeus,
With reffels in hir hond of gold ful fine,
All ful of hony, milk, and blood, and wine;
Eke Palamon with ful gret compagnie,
And after that came woful Emelie
With fire in hond, as was that time the gife,
To don the office of funeral ſervice.
High labour and ful gret apparailling
Was at the fervice of that fire making,
That with his grene top the heaven raught,
And twenty fadom of brede the armes ftraught;
This is to fain, the boughes were fo brode.
Of ftre firft there was laied many a lode.
But how the fire was maked up on highte,
And eke the names how the trees highte,
As oke, fir, birch, afpe, alder, holm, poplere,
Wilow, elm, plane, afh, box, cheftein, lind, laurere,
Maple, thorn, beche, hafel, ew, whipultre,
How they were feld, fhal not be told for me;
Ne how the goddes rannen up and doun
Difherited of hir habitatioun,
In which they woneden in reſt and pees,
Nimphes, Faunes, and Amidriades;
Ne how the beftes and the briddes alle
Fledden for fere whan the wood gan falle;
Ne how the ground agaft was of the light,
That was not wont to fee the fonne bright;
Ne how the fire was couched firft with ftre,
And then with drie ftickes cloven a-thre,
And than with grene wood and fpicerie,
And than with cloth of gold and with perrie,
And gerlonds hanging with ful many a flour,
The mirre, the encenſe alſo with fwete odour;
Ne how Arcita lay among all this,
Ne what richeffe about his body is;
Ne how that Emilie, as was the gife,
Put in the fire of funeral fervice;
4.
Ne how the fwouned whan ſhe made the fire,
Ne what the fpake, ne what was hire defire;
Ne what jewelles men in the fire cafte,
Whan that the fire was gret and brente fafte
Ne how fom caſt hir ſheld and ſom hir ſpere,
And of hir veftimentes which they were,
And cuppes full of wine, and mlk, and blood,
Into the fire, that brent as it were wood;
Ne how the Grekes with a huge route
Three times riden all the fire aboute
Upon the left hond, with a loud ſhouting,
And thries with hir fperes clatering,
And thries how the ladies gan to crie;
Ne how that led was homeward Emelie
Ne how Arcite is brent to afhen cold;
Ne how the liche-wake was yhold
All thilke night; ne how the Grekes play
The wake-plaies ne kepe I not to ſay;
Who wreſtled beft naked, with oile enoint,
Ne who that bare him beft in no disjoint
I woll not tellen eke how they all gon
Home till Athenes whan the play is don,
But fhortly to the point now wol I wende,
And maken of my longe Tale an ende.
*
By procee and by lengthe of certain yere
All ftenten is the mourning and the teres
Of Grckes by on general affent:
Than femeth me ther was a parlement
At Athenes upon certain points and cas;
Amonges the which points yípoken was
To have with certain contrees alliance,
And have of Thebanes fully obeifance:
For which this noble Thefeus anon
Let fenden after gentil Palamon.
Unwift of him what was the caufe and why?
But in his blacke clothes forwefully
He came at his commandment on hie;
Tho fent? Thefeus for Emelie.
Whan they were fet, and huſht was al the place
And Thefeus abiden hath a ſpace,
Or any word came from his wife breſt
His eyen fet he ther as was his left,
And with a fad vifage he liked ftill,
And after that right thus he fayd his will.
The firfte Mover of the caufe above,
Whan he firfte made the fayre chaine of love
Gret was th' effect, and high was his entent;
Well wift he why and what therof he ment ;
For with that fayre chaine of love he bond
The fire, the air, the watre, and the lond,
In certain bondes, that they may not flee:
That fame prince and Mover eke (quod he)
* The cuftom of watching with dead bodies (lice, Sax.
is probably very ancient in this country. It was abufed
as other wakes and vigils were. See Dù Cange in v. Vìră
gliac.in vigiliis circa corpora mortuorum vetancur
In
chorcac et cant l nae, feculares ludi et alii turpes et fa-
“tui.” Synod. Higorn, an, 1240, 0. S.
1
26
TAL E.
THE
KNIGHT ES
Hath ſtabliſht, in this wretched world adoun,
Certain of dayes and duration
To all that are engendred in this place,
Over the which day they ne mow not pace,
Al mow they yet the dayes well abrege.
Ther nedeth non autoritee allege,
For it is preved by experience,
But that me luft declaren my fentence.
Than may men by this ordre wel difcerne
That thilke Mover ftable is and eterne;
Wel may men knowen, but it be a fool,
That every part deriveth from his hool;
For Nature hath not taken his beginning
Of no partie ne cantel of a thing,
But of a thing that parfit is and ſtable,
Defcending fo til it be corrumpable;
And therefore of his wife purveyance
He hath fo wel befet his ordinance,
That fpeces of thinges and progreffions
Shullen enduren by fucceffions,
And not eterne, withouten any lie;
This maieft thou underſtand and feen at eye.
Lo the oke, that hath fo long a noriſhing
Fro the time that it ginneth firſt to ſpring,
And hath ſo long a lif, as ye may ſee,
Yet at the lafte wafted is the tree.
Confidereth eke how that the harde ſtone
Under our feet, on which we trede and gon,
It waſteth as it lieth by the wey;
The brode river fometime wexeth drey;
The grete tounes fee we wane and wende ;
Than may ye fee that all thing hathe an ende.
Of man and woman fee we wel alfo,
That nedes in on of the termes two,
That is to fayn, in youthe or elles age,
He mote be ded the king as fhall a page;
Som in his bed, fom in the depe fee,
Som in the large feld, as ye may fee:
Ther helpeth nought, all goth that ilke wey;
Than may I ſayn that alle thing mote dey.
What maketh this but Jupiter the King,
The which is prince and caufe of alle thing,
Converting alle unto his propre wille,
From which it iş derived, foth to telle?
And here-againes no creature on live
Of no degree availleth for to ſtrive.
Than is it wiſdom, as it thinketh me,
'To maken vertue of neceffite,
And take it wel that we may not eschewe,
And namely that to us all is dewe;
And whofo grutcheth ought he doth folie,
And rebel is to him that all may gie.
And certainly a man hath moſt honour
To dien in his excellence and flour,
Whan he is fiker of his goode name;
Than hath he don his frend ne him no fhame;
And glader ought his frend ben of his deth,
Whan with honour is yolden up his breth,
Than whan 'his name appalled is for age,
For all foryetten is his vaffalage :
Than is it beſt as for a worthy fame,
To dein whan a man is beft of name.
The contrary of all this is wilfulneſſe.
Why grutchen we? why have we hevineffe,
That good Arcite, of chivalry the flour,
Departed is, with dutee and honour,
Out of this foule prifon of this lif?
Why grutchen here his cofin and his wif
Of his welfare, that loven him fo wel?
Can he hem thank? nay, God wot, never a del,
That both his foule and eke hemfelf offend,
And yet they mow her luftres not amend.
What may I conclude of this longe ferie,
But after forwe I rede us to be merie,
And thanken Jupiter of all his grace;
And er that we departen from this place,
I rede that we make of forwes two
O parfit joye laſting evermo:
And loketh now wher moft forwe is herein,
Ther wol I firſte amenden and begin.
Sifter, (quod he) this is my full affent,
With all th' avis here of my parlement,
That gentil Palamon, your owen knight,
That ferveth you with will, and herte, and might,
And ever hath don fin you firft him knew,
That ye fhall of your grace upon him rew,
And taken him for hufbond and for lord:
Lene me your hand, for this is oure accord.
Let fee now of your womanly pitee:
He is a kinges brothers fome pardee;
And though he were a poure bachelere,
Sin he hath ferved you ſo many a yere,
And had for you fo gret adverfite,
It mofte ben confidered, leveth me,
For gentil mercy oweth to paſſen right.
Than fayd he thus to Palamon the Knight;
I trow ther nedeth litel fermoning
To maken you affenten to this thing.
Cometh ner, and take your lady by the hond.
Betwixen hem was maked anon the bond
That highte Matrimoine or Mariage,
By all the confeil of the baronage;
And thus with alle bliffe and melodic
Hath Palamon ywedded Emelie;
And God, that all this wide world hath wrought,
Send him his love that hath it dere ybought.
For now is Palamon in alle wele,
Living in bliffe, in richeffe, and in hele,
And Emilie him loveth fo tendrely,
And he hire ferveth all fo gentilly,
That never was ther no word hem betwene
Of jaloufie, ne of non other tene.
Thus endeth Palamon and Emelie,
And God fave all this fayre compagnie.
3
THE MILLERES PROLOGUE.
ይገ
THE MILLERES PROLOGUE.
WHAN that the Knight had thus his Tale told,
In all the compagnie n'as ther young ne old
That he ne faid it was a noble ſtorie,
And worthy to be drawen to memorie,
And namely the gentiles everich on.
Our Hofte lough and ſwore, So mote I gon
This goth aright; unbokeled is the male ;
Let fee now who fhall tel another Tale,
For trewely this game is wel begonne :
Now telleth ye fire Monk, if that ye conne,
Somewhat to quiten with the Knightes Tale.
The Miller, that for-dronken was all pale,
So that unnethes upon his hors he fat,
He n'old avalen neither hood ne hat,
Ne abiden no man for his curteſie,
But in Pilates vois he gan to crie,
And fwore by armes, and by blood, and bones,
1 can a noble Tale for the nones,
With which I will now quite the Knightes Tale.
Our Hofte faw that he was dronken of ale,
And fayd, abide, Robin, my leve brother,
Some better man fhall tell us firſt another;
Abide, and let us werken thriftily.
By Goddes foule (quod he) that wol not I,
For I wol fpeke, or elles go my way.
Our Hofte anſwered, Tell on a devil way;
Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome.
Now herkeneth, quod the Miller, all and fome:
But firſt I make a proteftatioun
'That I am dronke, I know it by my foun,
And therefore if that I miffpeke or fay
Wite it the ale of Southwerk 1 you pray;
For I woll tell a legend and a lif
Both of a carpenter and his wif,
How that a clerk has fet the wrightes cappe.
The Reve anſwerd and faide, Stint thy clappe;
Let be thy lewed dronken harlotrie.
It is a finne and eke a gret folie
To apeiren any man, or him defame,
And eke to bringen wives in ſwiche a name;
Thou mayft ynough of other thinges fain,
This dronken Miller fpake ful fone again,
And fayde, Leve brother Ofewold,
Who hath no wif he is no cokewold;
But I fay not therefore that thou art on;
Ther ben ful goode wives many on*.
Why art thou angry with my Tale now?
I have a wif parde as wel as thou,
Yet n'olde I for the oxen in my plough
Taken upon me more than ynough
As demen of myſelf that I am on ;
I wol beleven wel that I am non.
An huſbond ſhuld not be inquifitif
Of Goddes privite ne of his wif:
So he may finden Goddes foifon there
Of the remenant nedeth not to enquere.
What fhuld I more fay, but this Millere.
He n'olde his wordes for no man forbere,
But told his cherles Tale in his manere,
Me thinketh that I fhal reherſe it here;
And therefore every gentil wight I pray,
For Goddes love, as deme not that I fay
Of evil entent, but that I mote reherfe
Hir Tales alle, al be they better or werſe,
Or elles falfen fom of my matere;
And therefore who fo lift it not to here
Turne over the leef, and cheſe another Tale,
For he fhal find ynow bothe grete and fmale,
Of ftorial thing that toucheth gentilleffe,
And eke moralite and holineffe.
Blaineth not me if that ye chefe amis;
The Miller is a cherl, ye know well this,
So was the Reve, (and many other mo)
And harlotrie they tolden bothe two.
Avifeth you now, and put me out of blame;
And eke men fhuld not make erneſt of game.
* After this verfe the two following are found in ſo mas
ny ml, that perhaps they ought to have been inferted in
tlie text;
And ever a thoufand good ageins on badde,
That knoweit thou wel but i thou be madde.
28
THE MILLERES TA L E.
THE MILLERES TALE*.
WHILOM ther was dwelling in Oxenforde
A riche gnof, that geftes helde to borde,
And of his craft he was a carpenter.
With him ther was dwelling a poor fcoler,
Had lerned art, but all his fantaſie
Was turned for to lerne aftrologie,
And coude a certain of conclufions
To demen by interrogations,
If that men afked him in certain houres
Whan that men fhulde have drought or elles
Or if men aſked him what fhulde falle [fhoures;
Of every thing, I may not reken alle.
This clerk was cleped Hendy Nicholas;
Of derne love he coude and of folas;
And therto he was flie and ful prive,
And like a maiden meke for to fe.
A chambre had he in that hoftelrie
Alone, withouten any compagnie,
Ful fetifly ydight with herbes fote,
And he himſelf was fwete as is the rote,
Of licoris, or any fete wale.
His almageite, and bokes gret and ſmale,
His aftrelabre, longing for his art,
His augrim ftones †, layen faire apart
On fhelves couched at his beddes hed,
His preffe ycovered with a falding red;
And all above ther lay a gay fautrie,
On which he made on nightes melodie
So fwetely, that all the chambre rong,
And Angelus ad Virginem he fong;
And after that he fong the kinges note:
Ful often bleffed was his mery throtc,
And thus this fwete clerk his time ſpent
After his frendes finding and his rent.
This carpenter had wedded new a wif
Which that he loved more than his lif:
Of eightene yere ſhe was I geffe of age.
Jalous he was, and held hire narwe in cage,
For fhe was wild and yonge, and he was old,
And demed himſelf belike a-cokewold.
He know not Caton, for his wit was rude,
That bade a man fhudde wedde his fimilitude;
Men fhulden wedden after hir oftate,
For youthe and elde is often at debate;
But fithen he was fallen in the fnare
He most endure (as other folk) his care.
Fayre was this yongue wif, and therwithal
As any wefel hire body gent and fmal.
A feint fhe wered, barred all of filk,
A barme-cloth eke as white as morwe milk
Nicholas, a fcholar of Oxford, practifeth with Alifon,
the carpenter's wife of Ofney, to deceive her husband, but
in the end is rewarded accordingly. This is one of thofe
"Tales that Lydgate (in his Prologue to The Story of the
Siege of 'Thebes) fays are of ribauldrie,
To makin laughtir in the company.
So, reader, you know what you are to expect; read or
for bear as you think fitting. Urry.
+ Augrim is a corruption of algorithm, the Arabian term
for numeration. Augrim tones therefore were the pebbles
or counters which were anciently ufed in numeration.
Upon hire lendes, ful of many a gore;
White was hire fmok, and brouded all before
And eke behind on hire colere aboute
Of cole-black filk within and eke withoute:
The tapes of hire white volupere
Were of the fame fuit of hire colere;
Hire fillet brode of filk, and fet full hye;
And ſikerly ſhe had a likerous eye :
Ful fmal ypulled were hire browes two,
And they were bent, and black as any ilo:
She was wel more bliſsful for to fee
Than is the newe perienete tree,
And fofter than the wolle is of a wether.
And by hire girdel heng a purfe of lether
Taffeled with filk and perled with latoun.
In all this world to feken up and doun
Ther n'is no man fo wife that coude thenche
So gay a popelot or fwiche a wenche.
Ful brighter was the fhining of hire hewe
Than in the Tour the noble yforged newe;
But of hire fong, it was as loud and yerne
As any fwalow fitting on a berne.
Thereto fhe coude fkip and make a game
As any kid or calf folowing his dame.
Hire mouth was fwete as braket or the meth,
Or hord of apples laid in hay or heth.
Winfing fhe was as is a joly colt,
Long as a maſt, and upright as a bolt.
A broche fhe bare upon hire low colere,
As brode as is the boffe of a bokelere.
Hire fhoon were laced on hire legges hie;
She was a primerole, a piggefnie,
For any lord to liggen in his bedde,
Or yet for any good yemen to wedde.
Now firc, and eft fire, ſo befell the cas,
That on a day this Hendy Nicholas
Fel with this yonge wif to rage and pleye,
While that hire hufbond was at Ofeney,
As clerkes ben ful fubtil and ful queint,
And prively he caught hire by the queint,
And fayde, Ywis but if I have my will
For derne love of thee, lemman, I fpill;
And helde hire fafle by the hanche bones,
And fayde, Lemman, love me wel at oncs,
Or I wol dien, al fo God me fave.
And the fprong as a colt doth in the trave
And with hire hed fhe writhed faſte away,
And fayde, I wol not kiffe thee by my fay.
Why, let be, (quod fhe) let be, Nicholas,
Or I wol crie out Harow and Alas!
Do way your hondes for your curtefie.
This Nicholas gan mercy for to crie,
And fpake fo faire, and profered him fo faft,
That the hire love him granted at the laſt,
And fwore hire oth by Seint Thomas of Kent,
That the wold ben at his commandement
Whan that ſhe may hire leifer wel efpie.
Myn hufbond is is fo ful of jaloufie
THE
29
MILLERES
TA L E.
で
​+
That but ye waiten wel and be prive
I wot right wel I n'am but ded, quod fhe;
Ye moften be ful derne as in this cas.
Nay, therof care you not, quod Nicholas :
A clerk ha h litherly befet his while
But if he coude a carpenter begile.
And thus they were accorded and yfworne
To waite a time, as I have faid beforne.
Whan Nicholas had don thus every del,
And thacked hire about the lendes wel,
He kiffed hire fwete, and taketh his fautrie,
And plaieth faſt, and maketh melodie.
Than fell it thus, that to the parish cherche
(Of Criftes owen werkes for to werche)
This good wif went upon a holy day;
Hire forehed fhone as bright as any day,
So was it wafhen whan fhe lete hire werk.
Now was ther of that chirche a parish clerk
The which that was ycleped Abſolon.
Crulle was his here, and as the gold it fhon,
And ftrouted as a fanne large and brode;
Ful ftreight and even lay his joly fhode :
His rode was red, his eyen grey as goos,
With Poules windowes corven on his fhoos:
In hofen red he went ful fetifly:
Yclad he was ful fmal and proprely
All in a kirtel of a light waget *;
Ful faire and thicke ben the pointes fet;
And therupon he had a gay furplife,
As white as is the blofme upon the rife.
A mery childe he was, fo God me ſave ;
Wel coud he léten blod, and clippe and fhave,
And make a chartre of lond and a quitance:
In twenty monere coud he trip and dance,
(After the fcole of Oxenforde tho)
And with his legges caften to and fro;
And playen fonges on a final 1ibible;
Therto he fong femtime a loud quinible:
And as wel coud he play on a giterne:
In all the toun n'as brewhous ne taverne
That he ne vifited with his folas,
Ther as that any gaillard tapftere was;
But foth to ſay he was fomdel fquamous
Of farting, and of fpeche dangerous.
This Abfolon, that jely was and gay,
Goth with a cenfer on the holy day,
Cenfing the wives of the parifh faſte,
And many a lovely loke he on hem cafte,
And namely on this carpenteres wif;
To loke on hire him thought a mery lif;
She was fo propre, and fo ete, and likerous,
fwete,
I dare wel fain if fhe had been a mous
And he a cat, he wolde hire hente anon.
This parish clerk, this joly Abfolon,
Hath in his herte fwiche a love longing,
That of no wif toke he non offering;
For curtefie, he fayd, he n'olde non.
The moone at night ful clere and brighte fhon,
And Abfolen his giterne hath ytake,
For paramours he thoughte for to wake;
* Or watcher. Skinner explains watchet to mean a
colour, a whitich blue ; but in this place it ſeem, rather to
mean fome kind of cloth, denominated perhaps from the
town of Watchet in Somerfetihire. Instead of light ſome
mff. read fu, and mf, 4. wbit. This laft epithet would
be quite inconfiftent with Skinner's explanation.
And forth he goth jolif and amorous,
Til he came to the carpenteres hous,
A litcl after the cockes had ycrow,
And dreſſed him up by a fhot window
That was upon the carpenteres wal.
He fingeth in his vois gentil and fmal,
Now, dere Lady-if thy wille be,
I pray you that ye-wol rewe on me;
Ful wel accordant to his giterning.
ད
This carpenter awoke, herd him fing,
And ſpake unto his wif, and faid anon,
What, Alifon! heres thou not Abfolon,
That chanteth thus under our boures wal?
And the anſwerd hire hufbond therwithal,
Yes, God wot, John, I here him every del.
This paffeth forth; what wol ye bet than wel?-
Fro day to day this joly Abfolon
So loveth hire that him is wo-begon:
He waketh all the night, and all the day
He kembeth his lockes brode, and made him gay;
He woeth hire by menes and brocage,
And fwore he wolde ben hire owen page
He fingeth brokking as a nightingale;
He ſent her pinnes, methe, and ſpiced ale,
And wafres piping hot out of the glede;
And for fhe was of toun he profered mede;
For fom folk wol be wonnen for richeſſe,
And fom for ftrokes, and fome with gentilleffe.
Sometime to fhew his lightneffe and maiftrie
He plaieth Herode on a fkaffold hie.
But what availeth him as in this cas?
So loveth fhe this Hendy Nicholas,
That Abfolon may,blow the buckes horne ;
He ne had for his labour but a fcorne :
And thus fhe maketh Abſolon hire ape,
And all his erneſt tourneth to a jape.
Ful foth is this proverbe, it is no lie;
Mcn fay right thus alway, The neighe flie
Maketh of time the fer leef to be lothe:
For though that Abfolon be wood or wrothe,
Becauſe that he fer was from hire fight,
This neighe Nicholas ſtood in his light.
Now bere thee wel, thou Hendy Nicholas,
For Abfolon may waile and fing alas.
J
And fo befell that on a Saturday
This carpenter was gon to Ofenay,
And Hendy Nicholas and Aliſon
Accorded ben to this conclufion,
That Nicholas fhal fhapen him a wile
This fely jalous huſbond to begile;
And if fo were the game went aright
She fhuld flepe in his armes alle night,
For this was hire defire and his alfo.
And right anon, withouten wordes mo,
This Nicholas no lenger wold tarie,
But doth ful foft unto his chambre carie
Both mete and drinke for a day or twey.
And to hire hufbond bad her for to fey,
If that he axed after Nicholas
She fhulde fay fhe n'ifte not wher he was;
Of all the day fhe faw him not with eye;
She trowed he was in fom maladie,
For for no crie hire maiden coud him calle,
He n'olde anſwer for nothing that might falle.
Thus paffeth forth all thilke Saturday,
That Nicholas ftill in his chambre lay,
1
C
30
THE
MILLERES TAL E.
And ete, and flept, and dide what him lift,
Til Sonday that the fonne gothe to reft.
This fely carpenter hath gret mervaile
Of Nicholas, or what thing might him aile,
And faid, I am adrad by Seint Thomas
It ftondeth not aright with Nicholas;
God fhilde that he died fodenly;
This world is now ful tikel fikerly:
I faw to-day a corps yborne to cherche
That now on Monday laft I faw him werche.
Go up (quod he unto his knave) anon,
Clepe at his dore, or knocke with a ſton;
Loke how it is, and telle me boldely.
This knave got him up ful fturdely,
And at the chambre dore while that he ſtood
He cried and knocked as that he were wood;
What? how? what do ye, Maifter Nicholay?
How may ye flepen all the longe day?
But all for nought, he herde not a word.
An hole he fond ful low upon the bord,
Ther as the cat was wont in for to crepe,
And at that hole he loked in ful depe,
And at the laſt he had of him a fight.
This Nicholas fat ever gaping upright,
As he had kyked on the newe mone.
Adoun he goth, and telleth his maiſter fone
In what array he ſaw this ilke man.
This carpenter to bliffen him began,
And faid, Now helpe us Seinte Fridefwide!
A man wote litel what fhal him betide:
This man is fallen with his aftronomie
In fom woodneffe or in fom agonic.
I thought ay wel how that it fhulde be;
Men fhulde not knowe of Goddes privetee.
Ya, bleffed be alway a lewed man,
That nought but only his beleve can.
So ferd another clerk with aftronomie;
He walked in the feldes for to prie
Upon the ſterres, what ther fhuld befalle,
Til he was in a marlepit yfalle.
He faw not that. But yet by Seint Thomas
Me reweth fore of Hendy Nicholas :
He fhal be rated of his ſtudying,
If that I may, by Jefus, heven king.
Get me a ftaff, that I may underſpore
While that thou, Robin, heveſt of the dore:
He fhal out of his ſtudying as I geffe.
And to the chambre dore he gan him dreffe.
His knave was a ſtrong carl for the nones,
And by the hafpe he haf it of at ones:
Into the flore the dore fell anon.
This Nicholas fat ay as ftille as ſton,
And ever he gaped upward into the eire.
This carpenter wond he were in delpeire,
And hent him by the fhulders mightily,
And fhoke him hard, and cried fpitoufly;
What, Nicholas? what, how man? loke adoun ;
Awake, and thinke on Criſtes paſſioun.
I crouche thee from elves and from wightes.
Therwith the nightfpcl faid he anon rightes
On foure halves of the hous aboute
And on the threfwold of the dore withoute:
Jefu Crift and Seint Benedight
Bliffe this hous from every wicked wight,
Fro the nightes mare, the wite Pater-nofter?
Wher woneft thou Seint Peters fufter?
And at the last this Hendy Nicholas
Gan for to fiken fore, and faid, alas !
Shal all the world be loft eftfones now?
This carpenter anfwered, What faieft thou?
What? thinke on God, as we do, men that fwinke.
This Nicholas anfwered, Fetch me a drinke;
And after wol I fpeke in privetee
Of certain thing that toucheth thee and me:
I wol tell it non other man certain.
This carpenter goth doun and cometh again,
And brought of mighty ale a large quart;
And whan that eche of hem had dronken his part,
This Nicholas his dore fafte fhette,
And doun the carpenter by him he fette,
And faide, John, min hofte lefe and dere,
Thou shalt upon thy trouthe fwere me here
That to no wight thou fhalt my counfeil wrey,
For it is Criftes counfeil that I fay,
And if thou tell it man thou art forlore;
For this vengeance thou shalt have therfore,
That if thou wreye me thou shalt be wood.
Nay, Crift forbede it for his holy blood,
Quod tho this fely man: I am no labbe,
Ne though I fay it I n'am not lefe to gabbe.
Say what thou wolt, I fhall it never telle
To child ne wif, by him that harwed helle.
Now, John, (quod Nicholas) I wol not lie;
I have yfounde in min aftrologie,
As I have loked in the moone bright,
That now on Monday next, at quarter night,
Shal fal a rain, and that fo wild and wood,
That half fo gret wos never Noes flood:
This world (he faid) in leffe than in an houre
Shal all be dreint, fo hidous is the fhoure:
Thus fhal mankinde drenche and lefe hir lif.
This carpenter anfwerd, Alas my wif!
And fhal fhe drenche? alas min Alifoun!
For forwe of this he fell almoſt adoun,
And faid, Is ther no remedy in this cas?
Why yes, for God, quod Hendy Nicholas;
If thou wolt werken after lore and rede,
Thou maiſt not werken after thin owen hede a
For thus faith Salomon, that was ful trewe,
Werke all by confeil, and thou fhalt not rewe.
And if thou werken wolt by good confeil
I undertake, withouten maft or feyl,
Yet fhall I faven hire, and thee and me.
Haft thou not herd how faved was Noe,
Whan that our Lord had warned him beforne,
That all the world with water fhuld be lorne?
Yes, (quod this carpenter) ful yore ago.
Haft thou not herd (quod Nicholas) alſo
The forwe of Noe with his felawſhip,
Or that he might get his wif to ſhip?
Him had be lever, I dare wel undertake,
At thilke time, than all his wethers blake,
That ſhe had had a fhip hire felf alone;
And therfore woft thou what is beft to done?
This axeth haft, and of an haftif thing
Men may not preche and maken tarying.
Anon go get us faft into this in
A kneding trough or elles a kemelyn
وح
THE MILLERES TALE.
For eche of us; but loke that they ben large,
In which we mowen fwimme as in a barge;
And have therin vitaille fuffifant
But for a day; fie on the remenant;
The water fhall aflake and gon away
Abouten prime upon the nexte day.
But Robin may not wete of this thy knave,
Ne eke thy mayden Gille I may not fave:
Axe not why; for though thou axe me,
I wol not tellen Goddes privetee.
Sufficeth thee, but if thy wittes madde,
To have as gret a grace as Noe hadde.
Thy wif fhal I wel faven out of doute.
Go now thy way, and fpede thee hereaboute.
But whan thou haft for hire, and thee, and me,
Ygeten us thefe kneding tubbes thre,
Than fhalt thou hang hem in the roofe ful hie,
That no man of our purveyance eſpie :
And whan thou haft don thus as I have faid,
And haft our vitaille faire in hem ylaid,
And eke an axe to ſmite the cord a-two
Whan that the water cometh, that we may go
And breke an hole on high upon the gable
Unto the gardin ward, over the ſtable,
That we may frely paffen forth our way,
Whan that the grete fhoure is gon away,
Than fhal thou fwim as mery, I undertake,
As doth the white doke after hire drake;
Than wol I clepe, How, Aliſon! how, John!
Be mery, for the flood wol paffe anon.
And thou wolt fain, Haile! Maifter Nicholay,
Good morwe! I fee thee wel, for it is day.
And than ſhall we be lordes all our lif
Of all the world, as Noe and his wif.
But of o thing I warne thee ful right,
Be wel aviſed on that ilke night,
That we ben entred into fhippes bord,
That non of us ne fpeke not o word,
Ne clepe ne crie, but be in his praiere,
For it is Goddes owen heſte dere.
Thy wif and thou mofte hangen fer a-twinne,
For that betwixen you fhal be no finne,
No more in loking than ther ſhall in dede.
This ordinance is faid; go, God thee fpede.
To morwe at night, whan men ben all aflepe,
Into our kneding tubbes wol we crepe,
And fitten ther, abiding Goddes grace.
Go now thy way, I have no lenger ſpace
To make of this, no lenger fermoning:
Men fain thus, Send the wife, and fay nothing:
Thou art fo wife it nedeth thee nought teche.
Go, fave our lives, and that I thee befeche.
This fely carpenter goth forth his way,
Ful oft he faid Alas! and Wala wa!
And to his wif he told his privatee,
And fhe was ware, and knew it bet than he
What all this queinte caft was for to fey;
But natheles fhe ferde as fhe wold dey,
And ſaid, Alas! go forth thy way anon;
Helpe us to fcape, or we be ded eche on :
I am thy trewe veray wedded wif;
Go, dere ſpouſe! and helpe to fave our lif.
Lo, hat a gret thing is affection!
Men may die of imagination,
So depe may impreffion be take;
This fely carpenter beginneth quake;
Him thinketh veraily that he may fee
Noes flood comen walwing as the fee
To drenchen Aliſon, his honey dere:
He wepeth, waileth, maketh ſory chere;
He fiketh, with ful many a ſory ſwough.
He goth and geteth him a kneding trough,
And after a tubbe and a kemelin,
And prively he ſent hem to his in,
And heng hem in the roof in privetee.
His owen hond than made he ladders threet,
To climben by the renges and the ſtalkes
Unto the tubbes honging in the balkes;
And hem vitailled, kemelin, trough, and tubbe,
With bred and cheſe, and good ale in a jubbe,
Sufficing right ynow as for a day.
But er that he had made all this array
He fent his knave, and eke his wenche alſo,
Upon his nede to London for to go.
And on the Monday, whan it drew to night,
He ſhette his dore, withouten candel light,
And dreffed all thing as it fhulde bee;
And fhortly up they clomben alle three.
They fitten ftille wel a furlong way.
Now, Pater-nofter, Clum, faid Nicholay,
And Clum, quod John, and Clum, ſaid Aliſon :
This carpenter faid his devotion,
And ſtill he fit, and biddeth his praiere,
Awaiting on the rain, if he it here.
The dede flepe, for wery befineffe,
Fell on this carpenter, right as I geffe,
Abouten curfew time, or litel more.
For travaille of his goft he groneth fore,
And eft he routeth, for his hed miſlay.
Doun of the ladder ſtalketh Nicholay,
And Aliſon ful foft adoun hire fpedde.
Withouten wordes mo they went to bedde,
Ther as the carpenter was wont to lie;
Ther was the revel and the melodie.
And thus lith Aliſon and Nicholas
In befineffe of mirthe and in folas,
Til that the bell of laudes gan to ring,
And freres in the chancel gon to fing.
This parish clerk, this amorous Abſolon,
That is for love alway fo wo-begon,
Upon the Monday was at Ofenay
With compagnie, him to difport and play,
And aſked upon cas a cloiſterer
Ful prively after John the carpenter;
And he drew him apart out of the chirche.
He faid, I no't, I faw him not here wirche
Sith Saturday; I trow that he be went
For timbre ther our abbot hath him ſent
;
For he is wont for timbre for to go,
And dwellen at the Grange a day or two;
Or elles he is at his hous certain :
Wher that he be I cannot fothly fain.
This Abfolon ful joly was and light,
And thoughte, now is time to wake al night,
With his own hand. So Gower, Conf. Amant, fol. 76. b.
The cralte Mynerve of wolle fonde,
And made cloth her owen hande,
THE
TALE.
MILLERES
1
For fikerly I faw him nat firing
About his dore fin day began to fpring.
So mote I thrive I fhal at cockes crow
Ful prively go kocke at his window,
That ftant full low upon his boures wall:
To Alifon wol I now tellen all
My love longing; for yet I fhall not miffe
That at the lefte way I fhal hire kiffe.
Some maner comfort fhal I have parfay,
My mouth hath itched al this longe day;
That is a figne of kifling at the lefte:
All night me mette eke I was at a fefte:
Therfore I wol go flepe an houre or twey,
And all the night than wol I wake and plcy.
Whan that the firfte cock hath crowe, anon
Up rift this joly lover Abfolon,
And him arayeth gay, at point deviſe;
But first he cheweth grein and licorife,
To fmellen fote or he had ſpoke with herc.
Under his tonge a trewe love he bere,
For therby wend he to ben gracious.
He cometh to the carpenteres hous,
And ftill he ftant under the fhot window;
Unto his breft it raught, it was fo low;
And foft he cougheth with a femifoun.
What do ye, honycombe, fwete Alifoun,
My faire bird, my fwete finamome!
Awaketh, lemman min, and fpeketh to me.
Ful litel thinken ye upon my wo,
That for your love I fwete ther as I go.
No wonder is though that I fwelte and fwete;
I mourne as doth a lamb after the tete.
Ywis, lemman, I have fwiche love longing
That like a turtel trewe is my mourning.
I may not ete no more than a maid.
Go fro the window, jacke fool, fhe faid:
As helpe me God it wol not be, compame.
I love another, or elles I were to blame,
Wel bet than thee by Jefu, Abſolon.
Go forth thy way, or I wol caſt a ſton;
And let me flepe; a twenty divel way.
Alas! (quod Abſolon) and wala wa !
That trewe love was ever fo yvel befette :
Than kiffe me, fin that it may be no bette,
For Jefus love, and for the love of me.
quod fhe.
Wilt thou than go thy way therwith?
Ya certes, lemmian, quod this Abfolon.
Than make thee redy, (quod fhe) I come anon.
This Abfolon doun fet him on his knees,
And faide, I am a lord at all degrees:
For after this I hope ther cometh more;
Lemman, thy grace, and, fwete bird 'thyn ore.
The window fhe undoth, and that in hafte.
Have don, (quod fhe) come of, and fpede thee faſte,
Left that our neighboures thee efpic.
This Abfolon gan wipe his mouth ful drie.
Derke was the night as pitch or as the cole,
And at the window fhe put out hire hole,
And Abfolon him felle ne bet ne wers,
But with his mouth he kiſt hire naked ers
Ful favorly, er he was ware of this.
Abak he fterte, and thought it was amis,
For wel he wiſt a woman hath no berd.
He felt a thing all rowe, and long yherd,
And faide, Fy, alas! what have I do?
Te he, quod fhe, and clapt the window to
And Abfolon goth forth a fory pas.
A berd, a berd! faid Hendy Nicholas;
By Goddes corpus this goth faire and wel.
This fely Abfolon herd every del,
And on his lippe he gan for anger bitc,
And to himſelf he faid I fhal thee quite.
Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes
With duft, with fond, with ſtraw, with cloth, with
But Abfolon? that faith full oft Alas! (chippes,
My foule betake I unto Sathanas
But me were lever than all this toun (quod he)
Of this defpit awroken for to be.
Alas! alas! that I ne had yblent.
His hote love is cold and all yqueint;
For fro that time that he had kift hire era
Of paramours ne raught he not a kers,
For he was heled of his maladie;
Ful often paramours he
gan defie,
And wepe as doth a child that is ybete.
A fofte pas he went him over the ſtrete
Until a fmith man callen Dan Gerveis,
That in his forge fmithed plow-harneis;
He ſharpeth fhare and cultre befily.
This Abfolon knocketh all efily,
And faid, Undo, Gerveis, and that anon.
What, who art thou? It am I Abfolon.
What, Abfolon? what, Chriftes fwete tre,
Why rife ye fo rath? ey benedicite!
What eileth you? fome gay girle, God it wote,
Hath brought you thus upon the viretote:
By Seint Neote ye wote wel what I mene.
This Abfolon ne raughte not a bene
Of all his play; no word again he yaf :
He hadde more tawe on his diſtaf
Than Gerveis knew, and faide, Frend fo dere,
That hote culter in the cheminee here
As lene it me, I have therwith to don;
I wol it bring again to thee ful fone.
Gerveis anfwered, Certes were it gold,
Or in a poke nobles all untold,
Thou fhuldeft it have, as I am trewe fmith.
Ey, Criftes foot, what wol ye don therwith?
Therof, quod Abfolon, be as be may,
I fhal wel tellen thec another day;
And caught the culter by the colde ftele.
Ful foft out at the dore he gan to ftele,
And went unto the carpenteres wall;
He coughed firft, and knocked therwithall
Upon the window, right as he did er.
This Alifon anſwered, Who is ther
That knocketh fo? I warrant him a thefe.
Nay, nay, (quod he) God wot, my fwete lefe,
I am thin Abfolon, thy dereling.
Of gold (quod he) I have thee brought a ring;
My mother yave it me, fo God me fave,
Ful fine it is, and therto wel ygrave;
This wol I yeven thee if thou me kiffe.
This Nicholas was rifen for to piffe,
And thought he wolde amenden all the jape,
He fhulde kiffe his ers er that he ſcape;
And up the window did he haftily,
And out his ers he putteth privily
THE
B3
MILLERES
TA L E.
Over the buttok, to the hanche bon;
And therwith ſpake this clerk, this Abſolon,
Speke fwete bird, I n'ot not wher thou art.
This Nicholas anon let fleen a fart
As gret as it had been a thonder dint,
That with the ftroke he was wel nie yblint;
And he was redy with his yren hote,
And Nicholas amid the ers he fmote.
Off goth the ſkinne an hondbrede al aboute.
The hote culter brenned fo his toute,
That for the fmert he wened for to die
As he were wood for wo he gan to crie
Helpe, water, water! help for Goddes herte!
This carpenter out of his flumber fterte,
And herd on crie Water as he were wood,
And thought, alas! now cometh Noes flood.
He fet him up withouten wordes mo,
And with his axe he fmote the cord atwo,
And doun goth all; he fond neyther to felle
'Ne breed ne ale til he came to the felle,
Upon the flore, and ther afwoune he lay.
Up fterten Aliſon and Nicholay,
And crieden, Out and harrow in the ftrete.
The neigheboures bothe ſmale and grete
In rannen for to gauren on this man,
That yet afwonne lay bothe pale and wan,
For with the fall he broften hath his arm.
But ftonden he muft unto his owen harm,
For whan he ſpake he was anon bore doun
With Hendy Nicholas and Alifoun.
They tolden every man that he was wood,
He was agafte ſo of Noes flood
Thurgh fantafie, that of his vanitee
He had ybought him kneding tubbes three,
And had hem honged in the roof above,
And that he praied hem for Goddes love
To fitten in the roof par compagnie.
The folk gan laughen at his fantaſie.
Into the roof they kyken and they gape,
And turned all his harm into a jape.
For what ſo that this carpenter anſwerd
It was for nought, no man his refon herd.
With othes gret he was fo fworne adoun
That he was holden wood in all the toun,
For everich clerk anon right held with cther;
They faid the man was wood, my leve brother;
And every wight gan laughen at this ftrif,
Thus fwived was the carpenteres wif
For all his keping and his jaloufie,
And Abfolon hath kift hire nether eye,
And Nicholas is fcalded in the toute.
This Tale is don, and God fave all the route.
VOL. I.
}
+
I
}
34
THE REVES PROLOGU E.
THE REVES PROLOGUE.
W
HAN foil han laughed at this nice cas
Of Abfolon and Hendy Nicholas,
Diverſe folk diverfely they faide,
But for the more part they lought and plaide;
Ne at this Tale I faw no man greve
But it were only Ofewold the Reve:
Becauſe he was of carpenteres craft
A litel ire is in his herte ylaſt ;
He gan to grutch and blamen it a lite.
Se the ik, quod he, ful wel coude I him quite
With blering of a proude milleres eye,
If that me lift to ſpeke of ribaudrie.
But ik am olde; me lift not play for age;
Gras time is don, my foddre is now forage:
This white top writeth mine old yeres ;
Min berte is alfo moulded as min heres;
But if I fare as doth an open ers,
That ilke fruit is ever lenger the wers
Til it be roten in mullok or in ftre.
We olde men, I drede, ſo faren we;
Til we be roten can we not be ripe ;
We hoppe alway while that the world wol pipe;
For in our will ther ſtiketh ever a nayl,
To have an hore hed and a grene tayl,
As hath a leke; for though our might be gon
Our will defireth folly ever in on;
For whan we may not don than wal we fpeken,
Yet in our afhen cold is fire yreken.
;
Four gledes han we which I fhal devife,
Avaunting, lying, anger, and covetife ;
Thefe foure fparkes longen unto elde
Our olde limes mow wel ben unwelde,
But will ne fhall not faillen that is fothe:
And yet have I alway a coltes tothe,
As many a yere as it paſſed henne
Sin that my tappe of lif began to renne:
For fikerly whan I was borne anon
Deth drow the tappe of lif and let it gon;
And ever fith hath fo the tappe yronne,
Til that almoſt all empty is the tonne;
The ftreme of lif now droppeth on the chimbe.
The fely tonge may wel ringe and chimbe
Of wretchedneffe that paffed is ful yore:
With olde folk fave dotage is no more.
Whan that our Hofte had herd this fermoning,
He gan to fpeke as lordly as a king,
And fayde, What amounteth all this wit?
What, fhall we fpeke all day of holy writ?
The devil made a Reve for to preche,
Or of a fouter a fhipman or a leche.
Say forth thy Tale, and tary not the time;
Lo Depeford, and it is half way prime :
Lo Grenewich, ther many a fhrew is inne :
It were al time thy Tale to beginne.
Now, fires, quod this Ofewold the Reve,
I pray you alle that ye not you greve
Though I anfwere, and fomdel fet his howve
For leful is with force force cff to ſhowve.
This dronken Miller hath ytold us here
How that begiled was a carpentere,
Paraventure in fcorne, for I am on;
And by your leve I fhal him quite anon:
Right in his cherles termes wol I fpcke;
I pray to God his necke mote to breke.
He can wel in min eye feen a ſtalk,
But in his owen he cannot ſeen a balk.
*Kime, Teut. means the prominency of the flaves be-
yond the head of the barrel. The imagery is very exiê
and beautiful,
THE REVES TALÊ.
35
Jo
THE REVES TAL E*:
Ar Trompington, not fer fro Cantebrigge,
T
Ther goth a brook, and over that a brigge,
Upon the whiche brook ther ftont a melle;
And this is veray fothe that I you telle.
A miller was ther dwelling many a day,
As any peacock he was proude and gay :
Pipen he coude, and fifhe, and nettes bete,
And turnen cuppes, and wraftlen wel and fhete.
Ay by his belt he bare a long pavade,
And of a fwerd ful trenchant was the blade:
A joly popper bare he in his pouche.
Ther n'as no man for peril dorft him touche.
A Shefeld thwitel bare he in his hoſe :
Round was his face, and camufe was his nofe:
As pilled as an ape was his ſkull :
He was a market-beter at the full.
Ther dorfte no wight hond upon him legge,
That he ne ſwore he fhuld anon abegge.
A thefe he was forfoth of corne and mele,
And that a flie, and ufant for to ftele:
His name was hoten Deinous Simekin †.
A wif he hadde comen of noble kin :
The perfon of the toun hire father was:
With hire he yaf ful many a panne of bras
For that Simkin fhuld in his blood allie:
She was yfoftered in a nonnerie;
For Simkin wolde no wif, as he fayde,
But he were wel ynouriſhed and a mayde,
To faven his eftat of yemanrie :
And he was proud and pert as is a pie.
A ful faire fight was it upon hem two.
On holy dayes beforne hire wold he
go
With his tipet ybounde about his hed,
And the came after in a gite of red,
And Simkin hadde hofen of the fame.
Ther dorfte no wight clepen her but Dame:
you pleaſe. Urry
---
*Denyfe Simkin, the miller of Trompington, deceiveth
two clarkes of Soller's hall in Cambridge in Healing their
corn, but they fo manage their matters that they revenge
the wrong to the full. This tale is imitated from Boccace,
Novel the 6th, Day the 9th. This you may pafs over if
+ His name was Simon, of which Simekin is the dimi-
nutive, and from his difdainful infolent manners he had
acquired the furname of Peinous, jull as Nicholas, in the
forimer tale, was cleped Hendy from the very oppofite be-
haviour. A great numbǝr at our furnames have been
derived from qualities of the mind, and it is reafonable
to fuppofe that at the beginning they were merely per-
the ufe of hereditary furnames was no, even in Chaucer's
tonal, like what we call nicknames. It is probable that
gme fully etablished among the tower claffes of people.
Was non fo hardy, that went by the way,
That with hire derfte rage or ones play,
But if he wolde be flain of Simikin
With pavade, or with knif or bodekin;
(For jalous folk ben perilous evermo,
Algate they wold hir wives wenden fo.)
And eke, for fhe was for. lel fmoterlich,
She was as digne as water in a dich,
And al fo ful of hoker and of bifmare,
Hire thoughte that a ladie fhuld hire fpare,
What for hire kinrede and hire nortelrie
That she had lerned in the nonnerie:
A doughter hadden they betwix hem two
Of twenty yere, withouten any mo,
Saving a child that was of half yere age;
In cradle it lay, and was a propre page.
This wenche thicke and wel jgrowen was,
With camufe nofe and eyen grey as glas;
With buttokes brode, and breftes round and hie,
But right faire was hir here, I wol not lie.
The perfon of the toun, for ſhe was faire,
In purpos was to maken hire his haire
Both of his catel and of his mefuage,
And ſtrange he made it of hire mariage.
His purpos was for to bestow hire hie
Into fome worthy blood of ancestrie,
For holy chirches good mote ben defpended
On holy chirches blood that is defcended;
Therfore he wolde his holy blood honoure
Though that he holy chirche fhuld devoure,
Gret foken hath this miller out of doute
With whete and malt of all the land aboute,
And namely ther was a gret college
Men clep the Soler hall at Cantebrege,
Ther was hir whete and eke hir malte yground.
And on a day it happed in a found
Sike lay the manciple on a maladie,
Men wenden wifly that he ſhulde die ;
For which this miller ftale both mele and corn
An hundred times more than beforn,
For therbeforn he ftale but curteifly,
But now he was a thefe outrageouſly,
For which the wardein chidde and made fare,
But therof fet the miller not a tare;
He craked boſt, and ſwore it n'as not ſo,
Than were ther yonge poure ſcolores two
Teftif they were, and lufty for to play,
That dwelten in the halle of which I fay;
cij
36`
REVES TALE.
THE
5
And only for hir mirth and revelrie
Upon the wardein befily they crie
To yeve hem leve but a little ftound
To gon to mille and feen hir corn yground;
And hardily they dorften lay hir necke
The miller huld not ftele hem half a pecke›.
Of corn by fleighte, ne by force him reve.
And at the laft the wardein yave hem leve.
John highte that on, and Alein highte that other;
Of a toun were they born that highte Strother,
Fer in the north, I cannot tellen where.
This Alein maketh redy all his gere,
And on a hors the fak he caſt anon:
Torth goth Alein the clerk, and alfo John,
With good fwerd and with bokeler by hir fide.
John knew the way, him neded not no guide,
And at the mille the fak adoun he laith.
Alein fpake firft; All haile, Simond, in faith,
How fares thy faire daughter and thy wif?
Alein, welcome (quod Simkin), by my lif,
And John alfo. How now, what do
ye here?
By God, Simond (quod John), nede has no pere;
Him behoves ferve himfelf that has na fwain,
Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes fain.
Our manciple I hope he wol be ded,
Swa werkes ay the wanges in his hed;
And therfore is I come, and eke Alein,
To grind our corn and cary it hame agein;
I pray you fpede us henen that ye may.
It ihal be don (quod Sinikin) by my fay.
What wol ye don while that it is in hand?
By God, right by the hopper wol I ſtand,
(Quod John) and feen how that the corn gas in;
Yet faw I never by my fader kin
How that the hopper wagges til and fra.
Alein anſwered, John, and wolt thou fwa?
Than wol I be benethe by my croun,
And fee how that the mele falles adoun
In til the trogh; that fhal be my difport;
For, John, in faith I may ben of your
I is as ill a miller as is ye.
fort:
This miller fmiled at hir nicetee,
And thought all this n'is don but for a wile.
They wenen that no man may hem begile,
But by my thrift yet fhal I blere hir eie
For all the fleighte in hir philoſophie.
The more queinte knakkes that they make,
The more wol I flele whan that I take.
In ftede of flour yet wol I yeve hem bren.
The greteft clerkes ben not the wifeſt men,
As whilom to the wolf thus fpake the mare :
Of all hir art ne count I not a tare.
Out at the dore he goth ful prively
Whan that he faw his time foftely.
He loketh up and doun, til he hath found
The clerkes hors ther ashe ſtood ybound
Behind the mille under a levefell,
And to the hors he goth him faire and well,
And ftripeth of the bridel right anon.
And whan the hors was laus he gan to gon
Toward the fen ther wilde mares renne,
And forth with wehee thurgh thick and thinne.
This miller goth again, no word he ſaid,
But doth his note, and with theſe clerkes plaid,
Till that hir corn was faire and wel yground.
And whan the mele is facked and ybound,
This John goth out and fint his hors away,
And gan to crie Harow and wala wa!
Our hors is loft: Alein, for Goddes banes
Step on thy feet; come of, man, al at anes:
Alas! our wardein has his palfrey lorn.
This Alein al forgat both mele and corn;
Al was out of his mind his huſbandrie:
What, whilke way is he gon? he gan to cric.
The wif came leping inward at a renne;
She fayd, Alas! youre hors goth to the fenne
With wilde mares as faft as he may go.
Unthank come on his hand that bond him fo,
And he that better fhuld have knit the rein.
Alas! (quod John) Alein, for Criftes pein
Lay doun thy fwerd, and I fhal min alfwa;
I is ful wight, God wate, as is a ra.
By Goddes faule he fhall not fcape us bathe.
Why ne had thou put the capel in the lathe ?
Ill haile, Alein, by God thou is a fonne.
Thefe fely clerkes han ful faft yronne
Toward the fen, bothc Alein and eke John;
And whan the miller faw that they were gon
He half a bufhel of hir flour hath take,
And bad his wif go knede it in a cake.
He fayd, I trow the clerkes were aferde :
Yet can a miller make a clerkes berde
For all his art. Ye, let hem gon hir way.
Lo wher they gon. Ye, let the children play :
They get him not fo lightly by my croun.
Thefe fely clerkes rennen up and doun
With Kepe, kepe; Stand, ftand; joffa, warderere.
Ga whiſtle thou, and I fhal kepe him here.
But fhortly, till that it was veray night
They coude not, though they did all hir might,
Hir capel catch, he ran alway fo faſt,
Til in a diche they caught him at the laſt.
Wery and wet, as beftes in the rain,
Cometh fely John, and with him cometh Alein.
Alas (quod John) the day that I was
was borne !
Now are we driven til hething and til fcorne.
Our corn is ftolne, men wol us founes calle,
Both the wardein and eke our fulawes alle,
And namely the miller, wala wa !
Thus plaineth John as he goth by the way
Toward the mille, and Bayard in his hond.
The miller fitting by the fire he fond,
For it was night, and forther might they nought,
But for the love of God they him befought
Of herberwe and of efe, as for hir peny.
The miller faide agen, If ther be any,
Swiche as it is yct fhall ye have your part.
Myn houfe is ftreit, but ye have lerned art;
Ye can by arguments maken a place
A mile brode of twenty foot of space.
Let fee now if this place may fuffice,
Or make it roume with fpeche, as is your gife..
Now, Simond (faid this John), by Seint Cuthbert
Ay is thou mery, and that is faire anfwerd.
I have herd fay man fal take of twa thinges,
Slike as he findes, or flike as he bringes.
But fpecially I pray thee, hofte dere,
Gar us have mete and drinke, and make us chere,
THE
સા.
REVES T A LE.
37
And we fal paien trewely at the full:
With empty hand men may na haukes tull.
Lo here our filver redy for to ſpend.
This miller to the toun his doughter fend
For ale and bred, and rofted hem a goos,
And bond hir hors he fhuld no more go loos,
And in his owen chambre hem made a bedde,
With fhetes and with chalons faire yfpredde,
Nat from his owen bed ten foot or twelve:
His doughter had a bed all by hire felve,
Right in the fame chambre by and by:
It might be no bet, and cauſe why,
Ther was no roumer herberwe in the place.
They foupen, and they ſpeken of folace,
And drinken ever ſtrong ale at the beſt.
Abouten midnight wente they to reſt.
Wel hath this miller verniſhed his hed,
Ful pale he was, for-dronken, and nought red.
He yoxeth, and he fpeketh thurgh the nofe,
As he were on the quakke or on the poſe.
To bed he goth, and with him goth his wif;
any jay fhe light was and jolif;
As
So was hire joly whiſtle wel ywette.
The cradel at hire beddes feet was fette
To rocken, and to yeve the child to fouke.
And whan that dronken was all in the crouke
To bedde went the doughter right anon,
To bedde goth Alein and alfo John.
Ther n'as no more; nedeth hem no dwale.
This miller hath ſo wifly bibbed ale,
That as an hors he fuorteth in his flepe,
Ne of his tail behind he toke no kepe.
His wif bare him a burdon a ful ftrong,
Men might hir routing heren a furlong.
The wenche routeth eke par compagnie.
Alein the clerk, that herd this melodie,
He poketh John, and fayde, Slepeſt thou?
Herdeft thou ever flike a fong er now?
Lo whilke a complin is ymell hem alle;
A wilde fire upon hir bodies falle,
Wha herkned ever flike a ferly thing?
Ye, they fhall have the flour of yvel ending.
This lange night ther tides me no refte;
But yet na force, all fhal be for the beſte.
For, John (fayd he), as ever mote I thrive,
If that I may yon wenche wol I ſwive.
Som efement has lawe yfhapen us;
For, John, ther is a lawe that faieth thus,
'That if a man in o point be agreved
'That in another fhe fhal be releved.
Our corn is ftolne, fothly it is na nay,
And we han had an yvel fit to-day;
And fin I fhal have nan amendement
Again my loffe I wol have an efement:
By Goddes faule it fhal nan other be.
This John anfwered, Alein, avife thee;
The miller is a perilous man, he fayde,
And if that he out of his fiepe abraide,
He mighte don us bathe a vilanie.
Alein anſwered, I count him nat a flie.
And up he rift, and by the wenche he crept.
This wenche lay upright, and fafte flept,
Til he fo nigh was, er fhe might efpie,
That it had ben to late for to crie:
And ſhortly for to ſay, they were at on.
Now play Alein, for I wol fpeke of John.
This John lith ftill a furlong way or two,
And to himſelf he maketh routh and wo.
Alas! (quod he) this is a wicked jape;
Now inay I fay that I is but an ape.
Yet has my felaw fomwhat for his harme;
He has the millers doughter in his arme:
He auntred him, and hath his nedes fpedde,
And I lie as a draf fak in my bedde;
And whan this jape is tald another day
I fhal be halden a daffe or a cokenay:
I wol arife and auntre it by my fay:
Unhardy is unfely, thus men fay.
And up he roſe, and foftely he went
Unto the cradel, and in his hand it hent,
And bare it foft unto his beddes fete.
Sone after this the wif hire routing lete,
And gan awake, and went hire out to piffe,
And came again, and gan the cradel miffe,
And groped here and ther, but ſhe fond non.
Alas (quod fhe)! I had almoſt miſgon;
I had almoft gon to the clerkes bedde:
Ey benedicite! than had I foule yſpedde.
And forth fhe goth til ſhe the cradel fond.
She gropeth alway forther with hire hond,
And fond the bed, and thoughte nat but good,
Becauſe that the cradel by it ſtood,
And n'ifte wher fhe was, for it was derk,
But faire and wel fhe crept in by the clerk,
And lith ful ftill, and wold han caught a ſlepe.
Within a while this John the clerk up lepe,
And on this goode wif he laieth on fore;
So mery a fit ne had fhe nat ful yore:
He priketh hard and depe as he were mad.
This joly lif han thefe two clerkes lad
Til that the thridde cok began to fing.
Alein wex werie in the morwening,
For he had fwonken all the longe night,
And fayd, Farewel, Malkin, my fwete wight;
The day is come, I may no longer bide,
But evermo wher fo I
go or ride
I is thin awen clerk, fo have I hele.
Now, dere lemman, quod fhe, go, farewele;
But or thou go, o thing I wol thee tell.
Whan that thou wendeft homeward by the mell,
Right at the entree of the dore behind
Thou shalt a cake of half a bufhel find
That was ymaked of thin owen mele,
Which that I halpe my fader for to ſtele:
And, goode lemman, God thee fave and kepe.
And with that word fhe gan almoſt to wepe.
Alein uprift, and thought er that it daw,
I wol go crepen in by my felaw;
And fond the cradel at his hand anon.
By God, thought he, all wrang I have mifgon:
My hed is tottie of my fwink to night,
That maketh me that I go nat aright.
I wot we by the cradel I have mifgo;
Here lith the miller and his wif alfo.
And forth he goth a twenty divel way
Unto the bed, ther as the miller lay.
He wend have cropen by his felaw John,
And by the miller in he crept anon,
Ç iij
3.8
TALE.
THE REVES
.
And caught him by the nekke, and gan him ſhake,
And fayd, Thou John, thou fwineſhed, awake
For Criftes faule, and here a noble game;
For by that lord that called is Seint Jame,
As I have thries as in this fhort night
Swived the millers doughter bolt upright
While thou haft as a coward ben agaft.
Ye, falfe harlot, quod the miller, haft?
A, falfe traitour, falfe clerk (quod he),
Thou shalt be ded by Goddes dignitee,
Who dorfte be fo bold to diſparage
My doughter, that is come of fwiche linage,
And by the throte-bolle he caught Alein,
And he him hent defpitoufly again,
And on the nofe he fmote him with his fift;
Doun ran the blody ftreme upon his breft:
And in the fore with poſe and mouth to-broke
They walwe, as don two pigges in a poke.
And up they gon, and doun again anon,
Til that the miller fporned at a fton,
And doun he fell backward upon his wif,
That wifte nothing of this nice ftrif:
For fhe was fall aflepe a litel wight
With John the clerk, that waked had all night,
And with the fall out of hire flepe the braide.
Helpe, holy crofs of Bromeholme! (the fayde)
In manus tuas, Lord, to thee I call.
Awake, Simond, the fend is on me fall;
Myn herte is broken; helpe; I n'am but ded;
Ther lith on up my wombe and up myn hed:
Helpe, Simkin, for the falfe clerkes fight.
This John ftert up as faft as ever he might,
2
And grafpeth by the walles to and fro
To find a ftaf, and fhe flew up alfo,
And knew the eftres bet than did this John,
And by the wall the toke a ſtaf anon,
And faw' & litel fhemering of a light,
For at an hole in fhone the mone bright,
And by that light fhe faw hem bothe two,
But fikerly fhe n'ifte who was wlio,
But as fhe faw a white thing in hire cye;
And whan the gan this white thing eſpie
She wend the clerk had wered a voluperc,
And with the ftaf fhe drow ay nere and
And wend han hit this Alein atte full,
And ſmote the miller on the pilled fkull,
That doun he goth, and cried, Harrow! I die.
Thiſe clerkes bete him wel, and let him lic,
And greithep hem, and take hir hors anon,
And eke hir mele, and on hir way they gon;
And at the mille dore eke they toke hir cake
Of half a bufhel flour ful wel ybake.
Thus is the proude miller wel ybette,
And hath yloft the grinding of the whete,
And paid for the fouper every del
Of Alein and of John that bete him wel;
His wif is fwived and his doughter als;
Lo, fwiche it is a miller to be fals:
And therfore this proverb is fayd ful foth,
Him thar not winnen wel that evil doth;
A gilour fhal himſelf begiled be;
And God, that fiteth hic in mageftee,
Save all this compagnie gret and ſmale.
Thus have I quit the miller in my Tale.
nere,
5
+
1
THE COKES PROLOGUE
Į
GU
THE COKES PROLOGU E.
THE Coke of London, while the Reve ſpake,
For joye (him thought) he clawed him on the bak :
A ha (quod he) for Criftes paffion,
This miller had a fharpe conclufion
Upon this argument of herbergage.
Wel fayde Salomon in his langage
Ne bring not every man into thin hous,
For herberwing by night is perilous.
Wel ought a man avifed for to be
Whom that he brought into his privetee.
pray to God fo yeve me forwe and care
ever, fithen I highte Hodge of Warę,
Herd I a miller bet yfette a-werk;
He had a jape of malice in the derk.
I
If
But God forbede that we ftinten here,
And therfore if ye vouchen fauf to here
A Tale of me that am a poure man,
I wol you tell as wel as ever I can
A litel jape that fell in our citee.
Our Hofte anſwerd and fayde, I grant it thee:
Now tell on, Roger, and loke that it be good,
For many a paſtee haft thou letten blood,
And many a Jacke of Dover halt thou fold
That hath been twies hot and twies cold :
Of many a pilgrim haſt thou Criftes curfe,
For of thy perfelee yet fare they the werſe,
That they han eten in thy ftoble goos,
For in thy fhop goth many a flie loos.
Now tell on, gentil Roger by thy name,
But yet I pray thee be not wroth for game;
A man may ſay ful foth in game and play.
Thou ſayſt ful foth, quod Roger, by my fay;
But foth play quade ſpel, as the Fleming faith,
And therfore, Herry Bailly, by thy faith
Be thou not wroth, or we departen here,
Though that my Tale be of an hoftelere :
But natheles, I wol not telle it yet,
But er we part ywis thou ſhalt be quit.
And therwithal he lough and made chere
And fayd his Tale, as ye fhal after here.
THE COKES TALE*.
A PRENTIS whilom dwelt in our citee,
And of a craft of vitaillers was he:
Gaillard he was as goldfinch in the ſhawe,
Bronne as a bery, a propre fhort felawe,
With lokkes blake kembed ful fetifly :
Dancen he coude fo wel and jolily,
That he was cleped Perkin Revelour;
He was as ful of love and paramour
As is the hive ful of honey fwete ;
Wel was the wenche with him mighte mete.
*The deſcription of an unthrifty prentice given to dice,
women, and wine, watting thereby his matter's goods, and
purchafing to himfelf Newgate. The molt part of this 'Tale
de lot, or never finished by the Author.
At every bridale would he fing and hoppe;
He loved bet the taverne than the fhoppe;
For whan ther any riding was in Chepe
Out of the ſhoppe thider wold he lepe,
And til that he had all the fight yſein,
And danced wel, he wold not come agein;
And gadred him a meinie of his fort
To hoppe and fing, and maken ſwiche difport;
And ther they fetten ſteven for to mete
To plain at the dice in fwiche a ſtrete;
For in the Toun ne was ther no prentis
That fairer coude cafte a pair of dis
Than Perkin coude, and thereto he was fre
Of his difpence, in place of privetee;
Chg
}
40
THE
COKES TALE.
That fond his maifter wel in his chaffere,
For often time he fond his box ful bare.
For fothly a prentis, a revelour,
That haunteth dis, riot and paramour,
His maister fhal it in his fhoppe abie,
Al have he no part of the minſtralcie;
For theft and riot they ben convertible,
Al can they play on giterne or ribible.
Revel and trouth, as in a low degree,
They ben ful wroth all day, as men may fee.
This joly prentis with his maiſter abode,
Til he was neigh out of his prentiſhode,
Al were he fnibbed bothe erly and late,
And fomtime lad with revel to Newgate:
But at the laſt his maifter him bethought,
Upo: a day whan he his paper fought,
Of a proverbe that faith this fame word,
Wel bet is roten appel out of hord
Than that it rote alle the remenant:
So fareth it by a riotous fervant;
It is wel laffe harm to let him pace
Than he ſhende all the fervants in the place:
Therfore his maifter yaf him a quittance,
And bad him go, with forwe and with meſchance.
And thus this joly prentis had his leve :
Now let him riot all the night or leve.
And for ther n'is no theſe without a louke
That helpeth him to waften and to fouke
Of that he briben can or borwe may,
Anon he fent his bed and his array
Unto a compere of his owen fort
That loved dis, and riot, and difport,
And had a wif that held for countenance
A fhoppe, and ſwived for hire fuftenance.
THE MAN OF LAWES PROLOGUE.
THE MAN OF LAWES PROLOGUE.
OUR Hofte faw wel that the brighte fonne
The ark of his artificial day had ronne
The fourthe part and half an houre and more;
And though he were not depe expert in lore,
He wifte it was the eighte-and-twenty day
Of April, that is meffager to May,
And faw wel that the fhadow of every tree
Was as in lengthe of the fame quantitee
That was the body erect that cauſed it,
And therfore by the fhadow he toke his wit
That Phebus, which that ſhone fo clere and bright,
Degrees was five-and-forty clombe on hight;
And for that day, as in that latitude,
It was ten of the clok he gan conclude,
And fodenly he plight his hors aboute.
Lordings, quod he, I warne you all this route
The fourthe partie of this day is gon:
Now for the love of God and of Seint John
Lefeth no time, as ferforth as ye may.
Lordings, the time it waſteth night and day,
And fteleth from us, what prively fleping,
And what thurgh negligence in our waking,
As doth the ftreme, that turneth never again,
Defcending fro the montagne into a plain.
Wel can Senek and many a philofophre
Bewailen time more than gold in coffre;
For loffe of catel may recovered be,
But loffe of time ſhendeth us, quod he.
It wol not come again withouten drede,
No more than wol Malkins maidenhede
When the hath loft it in hire wantonneſſe :
Let us not moulen thus in idleneffe.
Sire Man of Lawe, quod he, ſo have ye blis,
Tel us a Tale anon, as for word is.
Ye ben fubmitted thurgh your frée affent
To ftonde in this cas at my jugement.
Acquitteth you now, and holdeth your beheft;
Than have ye don your devoir at the left.
Hofte, quod he, de par dieux jeo affente,
To breken forword is not min entente.
Beheft is dette, and I wold hold it fayn
All my beheft, I can no better fayn.
For fwiche lawe as man yeveth another wight
He fhuld himfelven ufen it by right.
Thus wol our text; but natheles certain
I can right now no thrifty Tale fain,
But Chaucer (though he can but lewdely
On metres and on riming craftily)
Hath fayd hem in fwiche Engliſh as he can
Of olde time, as knoweth many a man;
And if he have not fayd hem, leve brother,
In o book, he hath fayd hem in another :
For he hath told of lovers up and doun
Mo than Ovide made of mentioun
In his Epiftolis, that ben ful olde.
What fhuld I tellen hem fin they ben tolde?
In youthe he made of Ceyes and Alcyon,
And fithen hath he spoke of everich on
Thife noble wives, and thife lovers eke,
Who fo that wol his large volume feke
Cleped The Scintes Legende of Cupide :
Ther may he ſe the large woundes wide
Of Lucrece, and of Babylon Thiſbe;
The fwerd of Dido for the falfe Enee;
The tree of Phillis for hire Demophon;
The plaint of Deianire and Hermion,
Of Adriane and Yfiphilce;
The barreine ile ftonding in the fee;
The dreint Leandre for his fayre Hero;
The teres of Heleine, and eke the wo
Of Brifeide and of Ladomia;
The crueltee of thee, Quere Medea,
Thy litel children hanging by the hals
For thy Jafon, that was of love ſo fals:
O Hipermeftra, Penelope, Alceſte !
Your wif hood he commendeth with the beſte.
But certainly no word ne writeth he
Of thilke wicke enfample of Canace,
That loved hire owen brother finfully;
(Of all fwiche curfed ftories I fay Fy)
Or elles of Tyrius Appolonious,
How that the curfed king Antiochus
Berafte his doughter of hire maidenhede,
That is fo horrible a tale for to rede,
Whan he hire threw upon the pavement.
And therfore he of ful aviſement
N'old never write in non of his fermons
Of fwiche unkinde abhominations :
Ne I wol non rcherſe, if that I may,
But of my Tale how fhal I don this day?
Me were loth to be likened douteles
To Mufes that men clepe Pierides,
(Metamorphofeos wrote what I mene)
But natheles I recche not a bene
Though I come after him with hawebake;
I fpeke in profe, and let him rimes make.
And with that word he with a ſobre chere
Began his Tale, and fayde as ye fhull here.
1
THE MAN OF LAWES TALE.
THE MAN OF LAWES TALE.
O SCATHFUL harm, condition of poverte,
With thirft, with cold, with hunger, fo confounded,
To afken helpe thee fhameth in thine herte,
If thou non afk, fo fore art thou ywounded,
That veray nede unwrappeth al thy wound hid.
Maugre thin hed thou moſt for indigence
Or ftele or begge, or borwe thy difpence.
Thou blameft Criſt, and ſayſt ful bitterly,
He mifdeparteth richeffe temporal;
Thy neighebour thou witeft finfully,
And fayft thou haft to litel and he hath all:
Parfay (fayft thou) fometime he reken fhall,
Whan that his tayl fhal brennen in the glede,
For he nought helpeth needful in hir nede.
Herken what is the fentence of the wife,
Bet is to dien than have indigence,
Thy felve neighebour wol thee defpife;
If thou be poure farewel thy reverence.
Yet of the wife man take this fentence,
Alle the dayes of poure men ben wicke;
Beware therfore or thou come to that pricke.
If thou be poure, thy brother hateth thee,
And all thy frendes fleen fro thee, alas!
O riche marchants! ful of wele ben
O noble, o prudent folk! as in this cas,
Your bagges ben not filled with ambes as,
But with fis cink, that renneth for your chance;
At Criftenmaffe mery may ye dance.
ye,
Ye feken lond and fee for your winninges;
As wife folk ye knowen all th' eſtat
Of regnes; ye ben fathers of tidinges
And tales both of pees and of debat :
I were right now of tales defolat,
N'ere that a marchant, gon is many a yere,
Me taught a Tale which that ye fhull here.
In Surrie whilom dwelt a compagnie
Of chapmen rich, and therto fad and trewe,
That wide were fenten hir ſpicerie,
Clothes of gold, and fatins riche of hewe:
Hir chaffare was fo thrifty and fo newe,
'That every wight hath deintee to chaffare
With hem, and eke to fell en hem hir ware.
Now fell it that the maifters of that fort
Han fhapen hem to Rome for to wende,
Were it for chapmanhood or for difport,
Non other meffage wolde they thider fende,
But comen hemſelf to Rome, this is the endc;
And in fwiche place as thought hem avantage
For hir entente they taken hir berbergage.
Sojourned han theſe marchants in that toun
A certain time, as fell to hir plefance:
And fo befell that the excellent renoun
Of the emperoures doughter, Dame Cuftance,
Reported was with every circumſtance
Unto thefe Surrien marchants in fwiche wife
Fro day to day as I fhall you devife.
This was the commun vois of every man :
Our emperour of Rome, God him fe,
A doughter hath that fin the world began,
To recken as wel hire goodneffe as beaute,
N'as never fwiche another as is fhe;
I pray to God in honour hire fuftene,
And wold the were of all Europe the quene.
In hire is high beaute withouten pride,
Youthe withouten, grenehed or folie:
To all hire werkes vertue is hire guide;
Humbleffe hath flaien in hire tyrannie;
She is mirrour of alle curtefie,
Hire herte is veray chambre of holineffe,
Hire hond miniftre of fredom for almeffe.
And al this vois was foth, as God is trewe;
But now to purpos let us turne agein.
Theſe marchants han don fraught hir fhippes newe,
And whan they han this blisful maiden fein
Home to Gurrie ben they went ful fayn,
And don hir nedes, as they han don yore,
And liven in wele; I can fay you no more.
Now fell it that thefe marchants ftood in grace
Of him that was the Soudan of Surrie;
For whan they came from any ftrange place
He wold of his benigne curtefie
Make hem good chere, and befily efpie
Tidings of fundry regncs, for to lere
The wonders that they mighte feen or here.
Amonges other thinges fpecially
Thefe marchants han him told of Dame Cuftance
So gret nobleffe, in erneft feriouſly,
That this Soudan hath caught fo gret plefance
To han hire figure in his remembrance,
That all his luft and all his befy cure
Was for to love hire while his lif may dure.
Paraventure in thilke large book
Which that men clepe the Heven ywritten was
With fterres, whan that he his birthe took,
That he for love fhuld han his deth, alas!
For in the fterres, clerer than is glas,
Is writen, God wot, who fo coud it rede,
The deth of every man withouten drede,
THE MAN OF LAWES TALE.
43
In fterres many a winter therbeforn
Was writ the deth of Hector, Achilles,
Of Pompey, Julius, or they were born;
The ftrif of Thebes, and of Hercules,
Of Sampfon, Turnus, and of Socrates
The deth; but mennes wittes ben fo dull
That no wight can wel rede it at the full.
This Soudan for his prive councel fent,
And ſhortly of this matere for to pace,
He hath to hem declared his entent,
And fayd hem certain, but he might have grace
To han Cuftance, within a litel ſpace
Fe n'as but ded, and charged hem in hie
To ſhapen for his lif fom remedie.
Diverſe men diverſe things faiden;
They argumentes caften up and doun;
Many a fubtil refon forth they laiden;
They fpeken of magike and abuſion;
But finally, as in conclufion,
They cannot feen in that non avantage,
Ne in non other way fave mariage.
Than faw they therein ſwiche difficultee
By way of refon, for to fpeke all plain,
Becauſe ther was fwiche diverfitee
Betwene hir bothe lawes, that they fayn
They trowen that no Criften prince wold fayn
Wedden his childe under our law fwete,
That us was yeven by Mahound our prophete.
And he anſwered, Rather than I leſe
Cuftance I wol be criftened doubteles :
I mote ben hires, I may non other chefe,
I pray you hold your arguments in pees;
Saveth my lif, and beth not reccheles
To geten hire that hath my
hire that hath my life in cure,
For in this wo I may not long endure.
What nedeth greter dilatation?
I fay by tretife and ambaffatrie,
And by the Popes mediatioun,
And all the chirche, and all the chevalric,
That in deſtruction of Maumetrie,
And in encrefe of Criftes lawe dere,
They ben accorded fo as ye may here:
How that the Soudan and his baronage,
And all his lieges, fhuld ycriftened be,
And he ſhal han Cuftance in mariage,
And certain gold, I n'ot what quantitee,
And hereto finden fuffifant furetee.
The fame accord is fworne on eyther fide;
Now, fair Cuſtance, almighty God thee gide.
Now wolden fom men waiten, as I geffe,
That I huld tellen all the purveiance
The which that the Emperour of his nobleffe
Hath fhapen for his doughter Dame Cuftance.
Wel may men know that fo gret ordinance
May no man tellen in a litel claufe
As was arraied for ſo high a caufe.
Biſhopes ben ſhapen with hire for to wende,
Lordes, ladies, and knightes of renoun,
And other folk ynow; this is the end;
And notified is thurghout all the toun
That every wight with gret devotioun
Should prayen Crift that he this mariage
Receive in gree, and fpede this viage,
The day is comen of hire departing,
I fay the woful day fatal is come
That ther may be no longer tarying,
But forward they hem dreffen all and fome.
Cuftance, that was with forwe all overcome,
Ful pale arift, and dreffeth hire to wende,
For wel fhe feth ther n'is non other ende,
Alas! what wonder is it though ſhe wept,
That ſhal be fent to ſtrange nation
Fro frendes that fo tendrely hire kept,
And to be bounde under ſubjection
Of on the knoweth not his condition?
Houſbondes ben all good, and han ben yore,
That knowen wives, I dare fay no more.
Fader, (fhe faid) thy wretched child Cuftance,
Thy yonge doughter, fostered up ſo ſoft,
And ye, my moder, my foveraine pleſance
Over all thing, (out taken Crift on loft)
Cuftance your child hire recommendeth oft
Unto your grace, for I fhal to Surrie,
Ne fhal I never ſeen you more with eye.
Alas! unto the Barbare nation
I mufte gon, fin that it is your will;
But Crift, that ſtarfe for our redemption,
So yeve me grace his heftes to fulfill,
I wretched woman no force though I ſpill :
Women are borne to thraldom and penance,
And to ben under mannes governance.
I trow at Troye whan Pirrus brake the wall
Or Ilion brent, or Thebes the citee,
Ne at Rome for the harm thurgh Hanniball,
That Romans hath venquefhed times three,
N'as herd fwiche tendre weping for pitee
As in the chambre was for hire parting;
But forth the mote wheder fhe wepe or fing..
O firfte moving cruel firmament!
With thy diurnal fwegh that croudeſt ay,
And hurtleft all from eft til occident,
That naturally wold hold another way,
Thy crouding fet the heven in ſwiche array
At the beginning of this fierce viage
That cruel Mars hath flain this marriage.
Infortunat afcendent tortuous,
Of which the lord is helpeles fall, alas !
Out of his angle into the derkeſt hous,
O Mars, o Atyzar! as in this cas;
O feble Mone! unhappy ben thy pas,
Thou knitteſt thee ther thou art not received,
Ther thou were wel fro thennes art thou weived,
Imprudent Emperour of Rome, alas!
Was ther no philoſophre in al thy toun ?
Is no time bet than other in ſwiche cas?
Of viage is ther non electioun,
Namely to folk of high conditioun,
Nat whan a rote is of a birth yknowe ?
Alas! we ben to lewed or to flow.
To fhip is brought this woful faire maid
Solempnely, with every circumſtance:
Now Jefu Crist be with you all, fhe faid.
Ther n'is no more, but Farewel, fair Cuſtance.
She peineth hire to make good countenance;
And forth I let hire fayle in this manere,
And turne I wol againe to my matere.
44
THE MAN OF LAWES TALE.
The mother of Soudan, well of vices,
Efpied hath hire fones pleine entente,
How he wol lete his old facrifices;
And right anon fhe for her confeil fente,
And they ben comen to know what ſhe mente;
And whan affembled was this folk in fere,
She fet hire doun, and fayd as ye fhul here:
Lordes, (fhe fayd) ye known everich on
How that my fone in point is for to lete.
The holy lawes of our Alkaron,
Yeven by Goddes Meffager Mahomete;
But on avow to grete God I hete,
"The lif fhal rather out of my body ſterte
Than Mahometes lawe out of myn herte.
What fhuld us tiden of this newe lawe
But thraldom to our bodies and penance,
And afterward in helle to ben drawe,
For we reneied Mahound our creance?
But, Lordes, wol ye maken affurance,
As I fhal fay, affenting to my lore?
And I fhal make us fauf for evermore.
They fworen and affented every man
To live with hire and die, and by hire ftond;
And everich on, in the beſt wife he can,
To ftrengthen hire fhal all his frendes fond.
And the hath this empriſe ytaken in hond
Which ye fhull heren that I fhal deviſe,
And to hem all the fpake right in this wife.
We fhul firſt fein us Criftendom to take;
Cold water fhal not greve us but a lite;
And I fhal fwiche a fefte and revel make
That, as I trow, I fhal the Soudan quite :
For tho his wif be criftened never fo white
She fhal have nede to wash away the rede
Though the a font of water with hire lede,
O Soudanneffe! rote of iniquitee,
Virago thou Semyramee the fecond,
O ferpent under femininitee,
Like to the ferpent depe in helle ybound,
O feined woman! all that may confound
Vertue and innocence, thurgh thy malice
Is bred in thee, as neft of every vice.
O Sathan envious! fin thilke day
That thou were chafed from our heritage,
Wel knoweft thou to woman the olde way:
Thou madeft Eva bring us in fervage,
Thou wolt fordon this Criften mariage:
Thin inftrament fo (wala wa the while!)
Makeſt thou of women whan thou wolt begile.
This Soudanneffe, whom I thus blame and warrie,
Let prively hire confeil gon hir way:
What fhuld I in this Tale longer tarie?
She rideth to the Soudan on a day,
And ſayd him that ſhe wold reinie hire lay,
And Criftendom of preftes hondes fong,
Repenting hire fhe Hethen was fo long;
Befeching him to don hire that honour
That fhe might han the Criften folk to feft;
To plefen hem I wol do my labour.
The Soudan faith, I wol don at your heſt,
And kneling thanked hire of that requeſt ;
So glad he was ne n'iſte not what to ſay,
She kift hire fone, and home the goth hire way.
Arrived ben thefe Criften folk to lond
In Surrie, with a gret folempne route,
And hastily this Soudan fent his fond
Firſt to his mother and all the regne aboute,
And fayd his wif was comen out of doute,
And praide hem for to riden again the quene,
The honour of his regne to fuftene.
Gret was the preffe, and riche was th' array
Of Surriens and Romanes met in fere.
The mother of the Soudan riche and gay
Received hire with all fo glad a chere
As any mother might hire doughter dere;
And to the nexte citee ther befide
A fofte pas folempnely they ride.
Nought trow I the triumph of Julius,
Of which that Lucan maketh ſwiche a boſt,
Was realler or more curious
Than was th' affemblee of this blisful hoft;
Butte this fcorpion, this wicked goft,
The Soudaneffe, for all hire flattering
Caft under this ful mortally to ſting.
The Soudan cometh himſelf fone after this
So really, that wonder is to tell,
And welcometh hire with alle joy and blis.
And thus in mirth and joye I let hem dwell;
The fruit of this matere is that I tell
Whan time came, men thought it for the beft
That revel ſtint, and men go to hir reft.
The time come is this olde Soudanneffe
Ordeined hath the fefte of which I tolde,
And to the fefte Criften folk him dreffe
In general, ya, bothe yonge and olde.
Ther may men feft and realtee beholde,
And deintees mo than I can you devife;
But all to dere they bought it or they rife,
O foden wo, that ever art fucceffour
To worldly blifs! fpreint is with bitterneſſe
Th' ende of the joye of our worldly labour:
Wo occupieth the fyn of our gladneffe.
Herken this confeil for thy fikerneffe,
Upon thy glade day have in thy minde
The unware wo of harme that cometh behinde.
For fhortly for to tellen at a word,
The Soudan and the Criften everich on
Ben all to-hewe and ftiked at the bord
But it were only Dame Cuftance alone.
This old Soudaneffe, this curfed crone,
Hath with hire frendes don this curfed dede,
For the hirefelf wold all the contree lede.
Ne ther was Surrien non that was converted,
That of the confeil of the Soudan wot,
That he n'as all to-hewe er he afterted;
And Cuſtance han they taken anon fote-hot,
And in a ſhip all ftereles (God wot)
They han hire fet, and bidden hire lerne fayle
Out of Surric againward to Itaille.
A certain trefor that the thither ladde,
And foth to fayn vitaille gret plentee,
They han hire yeven, and clothes eke ſhe hadde,
And forth fhe fayleth in the falte fee.
O my Cuftance! ful of benignitce,
O Emperoures yonge doughter dere!
He that is Lord of fortune be thy ftere.
4
THE MAN OF
43
LAWES TALE.
She bleffeth hire, and with ful pitious vois
Unto the crois of Crift thus fayde fhe:
O clere, o weleful auter, holy crois!
Red of the Lambes blood ful of pitee,
That wefh the world fro the old iniquitee,
Me fro the fende and fro his clawes kepe
That day that I fhal drenchen in the depe.
Victorious tree, protection of trewe,
That only worthy were for to bere
The King of heven with his woundes newe,
The white Lamb, that hurt was with a ſpere;
Flemer of fendes out of him and here
On which thy limmes faithfully extenden,
Me kepe, and yeve me might my lif to amenden.
Yeres and dayes fleet this creature
Thurghout the fee of Grece, unto the Straite
Of Maroc, as it was hire aventure :
On many a fory mele now may fe baite;
After hire deth ful often may fhe waite,
Or that the wilde waves wol hire drive
Unto the place ther as the fhal arive.
Men mighten afken why fhe was not flain?
Eke at the fefte who might hire body fave?
And I anſwer to that demand again,
Who faved Daniel in the horrible cave,
Ther every wight fave he, mafter or knave,
Was with the leon frette or he afterte?
No wight but God, that he bare in his herte.
God lift to fhew his wonderful miracle
In hire, for we fhuld feen his mighty werkes :
Crift, which that is to every harm triacle,
By certain menes oft, as knewen clerkes,
Doth thing for certain ende that ful derke is
To mannes wit, that for our ignorance
Ne can nat know his prudent purveiance.
Now fith fhe was not at the feſte yflawe,
Who kepte hire fro the drenching in the fee?
Who kept Jonas in the fishes mawe,
Til he was ſpouted up at Ninevee?
Wel may men know it was no wight but he
That kept the peple Ebraike fro drenching,
With drye feet thurghout the fee pafling.
Who bade the foure ſpirits of tempeft,
That power han to anoyen lond and ſee,
Both north and fouth, and alſo weſt and cft,
Anoyen nether fee, ne lond, ne tree?
Sothly the commander of that was he
That fro the tempeft ay this woman kepte
As wel whan fhe awoke as whan ſhe ſlepte.
Wher might this woman mete and drinke have?
Three yere and more how lafteth hire vitaille?
Who fed the Egyptian Mary in the cave
Or in defert? no wight but Crist fans faille.
Five thouſand folk it was a gret marvaille
With loves five and fifhes two to fede:
God fent his foyfon at hire grete nede.
She driveth forth into our ocean
Thurghout our wide fee, til at the laſt
Under an hold, that nempnen I ne can,
Fer in Northumberlond, the wave hire caft,
And in the fand hire fhip ftiked ſo faſt
That thennes wolde it not in all a tide :
The wille of Crift was that the fhulde abide.
The Conftable of the caſtle doun is fare
To feen this wrecke, and al the fhip he fought,
And fond this very woman ful of care;
He fond alſo the trefour that fhe brought:
In hire langage mercy fhe befought,
The lif out of hire body for to twinne,
Hire to deliver of wo that he was inne.
A maner Latin corrupt was hire fpeche,
But algate therby was fhe underſtond.
The Conftable, whan him lift no longer feche,
This woful woman brought he to the lond.
She kneleth doun, and thanketh Goddes fond;
But what he was the wolde no man feye
For foule ne faire, though that ye fhulde deye.
She faid fhe was ſo maſed in the fee
That the forgate hire minde, by hire trouth.
The Conftable hath of hire fo gret pitee,
And eke his wif, that they wepen for routh:
She was fo diligent withouten flouth
To ferve and plefen everich in that place,
That all hire love that loken in hire face.
The Conſtable and Dame Hermegild his wif
Were Payenes, and that contree every wher;
But Hermegild loved Cuftance as hire lif;
And Cuftance hath ſo long fojourned ther
In orifons, with many a bitter tere,
Til Jefu hath converted thurgh his grace
Dame Hermegild, Conſtableffe of that place.
In all that lond no Criften dorfte route;
All Criften folk ben fled fro that contree
Thurgh Payenes, that conquereden all aboute
The plages of the north by lond and fee.
To Wales fled the Chriftianitee
Of olde Bretons dwelling in this ile;
Ther was hir refuge fer the mene while.
But yet n'ere Criften Bretons fo exiled
That ther n'ere fom which in hir privitee
Honoured Crift, and Hethen folk begiled,
And neigh the caule fwiche ther dwelten three :
That on of hem was blind, and might not ſee,
But it were with thilke eyen of his minde,
With which men mowen fee whan they ben blinde,
Bright was the fonne as in that ſommers day,
For which the Conftable and his wif alfo,
And Cuftance, han ytake the righte way
Toward the fee a furlong way or two,
To plaien and to romen to and fro,
And in hir walk this blinde man they mette,
Croked and olde, with cyen faft yfhette.
In the name of Crift, (cried this blinde Breton)
Dame Hermegild, yeve me my fight again.
This lady wexe afraied of that foun,
Left that hire hufbond, fhortly for to fain,
Wold hire for Jefu Criftes love have flain,
Till Cuftance made hire bold, and bad hire werche
The will of Crift, as doughter of holy cherche.
The Conftable wexe abafhed of that fight,
And fayde, What amounteth all this fare?
Cuftance anſwered, Sire, it is Criites might,
That helpeth folk out of the fendes fnare:
And fo ferforth the gan our lay declare,
That the the Conftable, er that it were eve,
Converted, and on Crift made him beleve,
46
THE MAN OF LAWES TALE,
This Conftable was not lord of the place
Of which I fpeke, ther as he Cuftance fond,
But kept it ſtrongly many a winter ſpace
Under Alla King of Northumberlond,
That was ful wife, and worthy of his hond
Againe the Scottes, as men may wel here;
But tourne I wol againe to my matere.
Sathan, that ever us waiteth to begile,
Saw of Cuſtance all hire perfectioun,
And caſt anon how he might quite hire while,
And made a yonge knight, that dwelt in that toun,
Love hire fo hote of foule affectioun,
That veraily him thought that he fhuld ſpille
But he of hire might ones han his wille.
He woeth hire, but it availeth nought;
She wolde do no finne by no wey;
And for defpit he compaffed his thought
To maken hire on fhameful deth to dey:
He waiteth whan the Conſtable is away,
And privily upon a night he crepte
In Hermegildes chambre while ſhe ſlepte.
Wery, forwaked in hire orifons,
Slepeth Cuſtance, and Hermegilde alfo.
This knight, thurgh Sathanes temptations,
All foftely is to the bed ygo,
And cut the throte of Hermegilde atwo,
And layd the bloody knif by Dame Cuftance,
And went his way, ther God yeve him mifchance.
Sone after cometh this Conſtable home again,
And eke Alla, that king was of that lond,
And faw his wife defpitoufly yflain,
For which ful oft he wept and wrong his hond;
And in the bed the blody knif he fond
By Dame Cuftance. Alas! what might fhe fay!
For veray wo hire wit was all away.
To King Alla was told all this miſchance,
And eke the time, and wher, and in what wiſe,
That in a fhip was fonden this Cuftance,
As here before ye han herd me deviſe :
The kinges herte of pitee gan agriſe
Whan he faw fo benigne a creature
Fall in difefe and in mifaventure.
For as the lamb toward his deth is brought,
So ftant this innocent beforn the king:
This falfe knight, that hath this trefon wrought,
Bercth hire in hond that ſhe hath don this thing:
But natheles there was gret niurmuring
Among the peple, and fayn they cannot geffe
That ſhe had don fo great a wickedneffe;
For they han feen hire ever ſo vertuous,
And loving Hermegild right as hire lif.
Of this bare witneſſe everich in that hous,
Save he that Hermegild flow with his knif.
This gentil king hath caught a gret motif
Of this witneſs, and thought he wold enquere
Deper in this cas, trouthe for to lere.
Alas! Cuftance, thou haft no champion,
Ne fighten canft thou not, fo wala wa!
But he that ftarf for our redemption,
And bond Sathan, and yet lith ther he lay,
So be thy ftronge champion this day :
For but if Crift on thee miracle kithe,
Withouten gilt thou shalt be flain as fwithe.
She fet hire down on knees, and thus the fayde;
Immortal God! that favedft Suſanne
Fro falfe bleme, and thou merciful mayde,
Mary I mene, doughter to Seint Anne,
Beforn whos child angels fingen Ofanne.
If I be gilteles of this felonie
My focour be, or elles fhal I die.
Have ye not feen fomtime a pale face
(Among a prees) of him that hath ben lad
Toward his deth, where as he getteth no grace,
And fwiche a colour in his face hath had,
Men mighten know him that was ſo beftad
Amonges all the faces in that route,
So ftant Cuftance, and loketh hire aboute.
O quenes living in profperitee,
Ducheffes, and ye ladies everich on!
Haveth fom routhe on hire adverfitee,
An emperoures doughter ftant alone;
She hath no wight to whom to make hire mone.
O blood real, that ftondeft in this drede,
Fer ben the frendes in thy grete nede!
This Alla king hath fwiche compaffioun,
As gentil herte is ful filled of pitee,
That fro his eyen ran the water doun.
Now haftily do fecche a book, quod he,
And if this knight wol fweren how that ſhe
This woman flow, yet wol we us avife,
Whom that we wol that fhal ben our justice.
A Breton book, written with Evangiles,
Was fet, and on this book he ſwore anon
She giltif was, and in the mene whiles
An hond him fmote upon the nekke bone,
That doun he fell at ones as a ſtone,
And both his eyen broft out of his face
In fight of every body in that place.
A voice was herd, in general audience,
That fayd, Thou haft defclandered gilteles
The doughter of holy chirche in high prefence
Thus haft thou don, and yet hold I my peeɛ.
Of this mervaille agaft was all the precs;
As mafed folk they ftonden everich on
For drede of wreche, fave Cuftance alone.
Gret was the drede and eke the repentance
Of hem that hadden wronge fufpection
Upon this fely innocent Cuftance:
And for this miracle, in conclufion,
And by Cuftances mediation,
The king, and many another in that place,
Converted was, thanked be Criftes grace.
This falfe knight was flain for his untrouthe
By jugement of Alla haftily;
And yet Cuftance had of his deth gret routhe;
And after this Jefus of his mercy
Made Alla wedden ful folempnely
This holy woman, that is fo bright and ſhene;
And thus hath Crift ymade Cuftance a quene.
But who was woful (if I fhall not lie)
Of this wedding but Donegild, and no mo,
The kinges mother, full of tyrannie?
Hire thoughte hire curfed herte braft atwo;
She wolde not that hire fone had do fo :
Hire thoughte a defpit that he fhulde tako
So ftrange a creature unto his make.
Me lift not of the chaf ne of the ftre
Makes fo long a tale as of the corn.
What fhuld I tellen of the realtee
THE MAN OF
A
LAWES TALE.
Of this marriage, or which cours goth beforn,
Who bloweth in a trompe or in an horn?
The fruit of every tale is for to ſay;
They ete and drink, and dance, and fing, and play.
They gon to bed, as it was fkill and right,
For though that wives ben ful holy thinges,
They moften take in patience a night
Swiche maner neceffaries, as ben plefinges
To folk that han ywedded hem with ringes.
And lay a lite hir holinefs afide
As for the time, it may no bet betide.
On hire he gat a knave childe anon,
And to a bishop, and his Conftable eke,
He toke his wif to kepe, when he is gon
To Scotland ward, his fomen for to feke.
Now faire Cuftance, that is fo humble and meke,
So long is gen with childe til that ſtill
She halt hire chambre, abiding Criftes will.
The time is come, a knave child fhe bere;
Mauricius at the fontftone they him calle.
This Conſtable doth forth come a meflager,
And wrote unto his king that cleped was Alle,
How that this blisfui tiding is befalle,
And other tidings fpedeful for to ſay.
He hath the lettre, and forth he goth his way.
This meſſager, to don his avantage,
Unto the kinges mother rideth ſwithe,
And falueth hire ful faire in his langage.
Madame, quod he, ye may be glad and blithe,
And thanken God an hundred thouſand fithe;
My lady quene hath child, withouten doute,
To joy and bliffe of all this regne aboute.
Lo here the lettre feled of this thing,
That I moſt bere in all the haſt I may
If ye wol ought unto your fone the king,
I
am your fervant bothe night and day.
Donegilde anſwerd, As now at this time nay;
But here I wol all night thon take thy reſt,
To-morwe wol I fay thee what me left.
This meffager drank fadly ale and wine,
And ftolen were his lettres prively
Out of his bax, while he flept as a fwine;
And contrefeted was ful fubtilly
Another lettre, wrought ful finfully,
Unto the king directe of this matere
Fro his Conftable, as ye fhal after here.
This lettre fpake, the quene delivered was
Of fo horrible a fendliche creature,
'That in the caftle non fo hardy was
That any while dorft therein endure:
The mother was an elf by aventure
Ycome, by charmes or by forcerie,
And everich man hateth hire compagnie.
Wo was this king when he this lettre had fein.
But to no wight he told his forwes fore,
But of his owen hand he wrote again;
Welcome the fonde of Crift for evermore
To me, that am now lerned in his lore:
Lord, welcome be thy luft and thy plefance;
My luft I put all in thyn ordinance.
Kepeth this child, al be it foule or fairc,
And eke my wif, unto min home coming:
Crift whan him lift may fenden me an heire,
More agreable than this to my liking.
This lettre he feled, prively weping.
Which to the meffager was taken fone,
And forth he goth, there is no more to done.
O meffager fulfilled of dronkeneffe!
Strong is thy breth, thy limmes faitren ay,
And thou bewreieft alle fecreneffe;
Thy mind is lerne, thou jangleſt as a jay ;
Thy face is tourned in a new array :
Ther dronkencffe regneth in any route
Ther is no confeil hid withouten doute.
O Donegild! I ne have non Engliſh digne
Unto thy malice and thy tyrannie,
Aud therfore to the fende I thee refigne.
Let him enditen of thy traitorie.
Fy, mannifh, fy! o nay, by God I ke;
Fy, fendliche fpirit! for I dare well telle,
Though thou here walke, thy fpirit is in helle.
This meffager cometh fro the king again,
And at the kinges modres court he light,
And ſhe was of this meffager ful fayn,
And plefed him in all that ever ſhe might.
He dranke and wel his girdel underpight;
He flepeth and he fnoreth in his gife
All night until the fonne gan arife.
Eft were his lettres ftolen everich on,
And contrefeted lettres in this wife.
The king commanded his Conſtable anon,
Up peine of hanging and of high jewiſe,
That he ne fhulde foffran in no wife
Cuſtance within his regne for to abide
Three daies and a quarter of a tide;
But in the fame fhip as he hire fond
Hire and hire yonge fone, and all hire gere,
He ſhulde put, and croude hire fro the lond,
And charge hire that fhe never eft come there,
O my Cuſtance! wel may thy ghoſt have fere,
And leping in thy dreme ben in penance,
Whan Donegild caft all this ordinance.
This meffager on morwe whan he awoke
Unto the caftel halt the nexte way,
And to the Conftable he the lettre toke;
And whan that he this pitous lettre fey
Ful oft he fayd Alas, and wala wa!
Lord Chriſt, quad he, how may this world endures
So ful of finne is many a creature?
O mighty God if that it be thy will,
Sin thou art rightful juge, how may it be
That thou wolt foffren innocence to ſpill,
And wicked folk regne in profperitce?
A! good Cuſtance, alas! ſo wo is me,
That I mote be thy turmentour, or dey
On fhames deth, ther is non other wey.
Wepen both yonge and olde in all that place
Whan that the king this curfed lettre ſent :
And Cuſtance with a dedly pale face
The fourthe day toward the ship fhe went;
But natheleſs the taketh in good entent
The will of Crift, and kneling on the ſtrond
She fayde, Lord, ay welcome be thy fond.
He that me kepte fro the falle blame,
While I was in the lond amonges you,
He can me kepe fro harme and eke fro fhame
In the falt fee, although I fe nct how :
As ftrong as ever he was he is yet now:
In him truft I, and in his mother dere,
That is to me my fail and cke my stere.
8
THE MAN OF LAWES TALE.
Hire litel child lay weping in hire arm,
And kneling pitously to him fhe faid,
Pees, litel fone, I wol do thee no harm:
Maketh for his wif and for his child alſo,
Ther is no tonge that it tellen may.
But now wol I agen to Cuftance go,
With that hire couverchief of hire hed fhe braid, That fleteth in the fee in peine and wo
And over his litel eyen fhe it laid,
And in hire arme fhe lulleth it ful faft,
And into the heven hire eyen up ſhe caft.
Mother, quod fhe, and mayden, bright Marie!
Soth is that thurgh womanes eggement
Mankind was lorne, and damned ay to die,
For which thy child was on a crois yrent:
Thy blissful eyen faw all his turment,
Than is ther no compariſon betwene
Thy wo and any woman may ſuſtene.
Thou faw thy child yflain before thin eyen,
And yet now liveth my litel child parfay :
Now, Lady bright! to whom all woful crien,
Thou glory of womanhed, thou faire May!
Thou haven of refute, bright ſterre of day!
Rew on my child, that of thy gentilleffe
Reweft on every rewful in diftreffe.
O litel child, alas! what is thy gilt,
That never wroughteft finne as yet parde?
Why wol thin harde father have thee ſpilt?
O mercy, dere Conftable! (quod fhe)
As let my litel child dwell here with thee;
And if thou darft not faven him fro blame,
So kiffe him ones in his fadres name.
Therwith the loketh backward to the lond,
And faide, Farewel, houfbond routheles!
And up fhe rift, and walketh doun the ftrond
Toward the fhip; hire foloweth all the prees:
And ever the praieth hire child to hold his pees,
And taketh hire leve, and with an holy entent
She bleffed hire, and into the fhip fhe went.
Vitailled was the ſhip, it is no drede,
Habundantly for hire a ful long ſpace;
And other neceffaries that fhuld nede
She had ynow, heried be Goddes grace:
For wind and wether, almighty God purchace,
And bring hire home, I can no better fay,
But in the fee fhe driveth forth hire way.
Alla the king cometh home fone after this
Unto his caftel, of the which I told,
And afketh wher his wif and his child is;
The Conſtable gan about his herte cold,
And plainly all the matere he him told
As ye han herd, I can tell it no better,
And fhewed the king his fele and his letter;
And faide, Lord, as ye commanded me
Up peine of deth, fo have I don certain.
This meffager turmented was til he
Mofte beknowe, and tellen plat and plain
Fro night to night in what place he had lain :
And thus by wit and fubtil enquering
Imagined was by whom this harm gan fpring.
The hand was knowen that the lettre wrote,
And all the venime of this curfed dede,
But in what wife certainly I n'ot.
The effect is this, that Alla out of drede
His moder flew, that moun men plainly rede,
For that fhe traitour was to hire ligeance.
Thus ended this old Donegild with mefchance.
The forwe that this Alla night and day
Five yere and more, as liked Criftes fonde,
Or that hire fhip approched to the londe.
Under an Hethen caftel at the laſt,
(Of which the name in my text I not find)
Cuftance and eke hire child the fee up caft.
Almighty God, that faved all mankind,
Have on Cuftance and on hire child fom mind
That fallen is in Hethen hond eftfone
In point to ſpill, as I fhal tell you fone.
Doun fro the caſtel cometh ther many a wight
To gauren on this ſhip and on Cuftance:
But shortly fro the caftel on a night,
The lordes fteward, (God yeve him mefchance)
A theef that had reneyed our creance,
Came into the ſhip alone, and faid he wolde
Hire lemman be whether the wolde or n'olde.
Wo was this wretched woman tho begon;
Hire child cried, and fhe cried pitouſly;
But blissful Mary halpe hire right anon,
For with hire ftrogling wel and mightily
The theef fell over bord all fodenly,
And in the fee he drenched for vengeance;
And thus hath Crift unwemmed kept Cuftance.
O foule luft of luxurie! lo thin ende,
Not only that thou fainteft mannes mind,
But veraily thou wolt his body fhende.
Th' ende of thy werk, or of thy luftes blind,
Is complaining: how many may men find
That not for werk fometime, but for th' entent
To don this finne, ben eyther flain or fhent ?
How may this weke woman han the ftrength
Hire to defend again this renegate ?
O Golias! unmefurable of length,
How mighte David maken thee ſo mate?
So yonge, and of armure fo defolate,
How dorft he loke upon thy dredful face?
Wel may men feen it was but Goddes grace.
Who yaf Judith corage or hardineffe
To fleen him Holofernes in his tent,
And to deliver out of wretchedneffe
The peple of God? I fay for this entent,
That right as God fpirit of vigour fent
To hem, and faved hem out of mefchance,
So fent he night and vigour to Cuftance.
Forth goth hire fhip thurghout the narwe mouth
Of Jubaltere and Septe, driving alway,
Sometime weft, and fometime north and fouth,
And fometime eft, ful many a wery day,
Til Criftes moder (bleffed be the ay)
Hath fhapen thurgh hire endeles goodneffe
To make an end of all hire hevineffe.
Now let us ftint of Cuftance but a throw,
And fpeke we of the Romane emperour,
That out of Surrie hath by lettres knowe
The flaughter of Criften folk, and diſhonour
Don to his doughter by a falfe traitour,
I mene the curfed wicked Soudanneffe,
That at the feft let fleen both more and leffe.
For which this emperour hath ſent anon
His fenatour, with real ordinance,
1
THE MAN OF LAWES TALE.
49
And other lordes, God wote, many on,
On Surriens to taken high vengeance:
They brennen, fleen, and bring hem to mefchance,
Ful many a day but fhortly this is th' ende,
Homward to Rome they ſhapen hem to wende.
This fenatour repaireth with victorie
To Rome ward, fayling ful really,
And met the fhip driving, as faith the ſtoric,
In which Cuſtance fitteth ful pitoufly :
Nothing ne knew he what he was, ne why
She was in fwiche array, ne fhe wil fey
Of hire eftat, though that fhe fhulde dey.
He bringeth hire to Rome, and to his wif
He yaf hire, and hire yonge ſonne alſo,
And with the ſenatour fhe lad hire lif.
Thus can our Lady bringen out of wo
Woful Cuftance, and many another mo:
And longe time dwelled fhe in that place
In holy werkes ever, as was hire grace.
The fenatoures wif hire aunte was,
But for all that the knew hire never the more:
I wol no longer tarien in this cas,
But to King Alla, which I fpake of yore,
That for his wif wipeth and fiketh fore,
I wol returne, and let I wol Çuſtance
Under the fenatoures governance.
King Alla, which that had his moder flain,
Upon a day fell in fwiche repentance,
That if I fhortly tellen fhal and plain,
To Rome he cometh to receive his penance,
And putte him in the Popes ordinance
In high and low, and Jefu Crift befought
Foryeve his wicked werkes that he had wrought.
The fame anon thurghout the toun is born,
How Alla king fhal come on pilgrimage,
By herbergeours that wenten him beforn,
For which the fenatour, as was uſage,
Rode him againe, and many of his linage,
As wel to fhewn his high magnificence
As to don any king a reverence.
Gret chere doth this noble fenatcur
To King Alla, and he to him alfo :
Everich of hem doth other gret honour;
And ſo befell that in a day or two
This fenatour is to King Alla go
To feſt, and ſhortly, if I fhal not lie,
Cuftances fone went in his compagnie.
Som men wold fain at requeſte of Cuftance
'This fenatour hath lad this childe to fefte:
I may not tellen every circumſtance;
Be as be may ther was he at the lefte:
But foth is this, that at his mothers hefte
Beforn Alla, during the metes fpace,
The child ſtood, loking in the kinges face.
This Alla king hath of this child gret wonder,
And to the fenatour he ſaid anon,
Whos is that faire child that ftondeth yonder?
I n'ot, quod he, by God, and by Seint John;
A moder he hath, but fader hath he non
That I of wote: but ſhortly in a ſtound
He told Alla how that this child was found.
But God wot, quod this fenatour alfo,
So vertuous a liver in all my lif
Ne faw Inever as fhe, ne herd of me
VOL, I.
Of worldly woman, maiden, widewe or wif;
I dare wel fayn hire hadde lever a knif
Thurghout hire breft than ben a woman wikke;
Ther is no man coude bring hire to that prikke.
Now was this child as like unto Cuftance
As poffible is a creature to be :
i
This Alla hath the face in remembrance
Of Dame Cuftance, and theron mufed he,
If that the childes moder were aught the
That is his wif, and prively he fighte,
And ſped him fro the table that he mighte.
Parfay, thought he, fantome is in min hed;
I ought to deme of fkilful jugement
That in the falte fee my wif is ded.
And afterward he made his argument;
What wot I if that Crift have hider fent
My wif by fee, as wel as he hire lent
To my coutree, fro thennes that he went ?
And after noon home with the fenatour
Goth Alla, for to fee this wonder chance.
This fenatour doth Alla gret honour,
And haftily he fent after Cuftance;
But trufteth wel hire lufte not to dance:
When that ſhe wifte wherfore was that fonde
Unnethe upon hire feet the mighte ftonde.
Whan Alla faw his wif faire he hire grette,
And wept that it was routhe for to fee;
For at the firfte look he on hire fette
He knew wel veraily that it was fhe;
And fhe for forwe as domb ftant as a tree :
So was hire herte fhette in hire diftreffe
Whan the remembered his unkindeneffe.
Twies fhe fwouneth in his owen fight;
He wepeth and him excufeth pitoufly :
Now God, quod he, and all his halwes bright,
So wifly on my foule as have mercy,
That of your harme as gilteles am I
As is Maurice my fone, fo like your face,
Elles the fend me fetche out of this place.
Long was the fobbing and the bitter peine
Or that hir woful hertes mighten cefe;
Gret was the pitee for to here hem pleine,
Thurgh whiche pleintes gan hir wo encrefe.
I pray you all my labour to releſe,
I may not tell hir wo until to-morwe,
I am fo wery for to fpeke of forwe.
But finally, whan that the foth is wift,
That Alla gilteles was of hire wo,
I trow an hundred times han they kiſt,
And fwiche a bliffe is ther betwix hem two,
That, fave the joye that lafteth evermo,
Ther is non like that any creature
Hath feen or fhal while that the world may dure.
Tho praied ſhe hire huſbond mekely.
In releef of hire longe pitous pine,
That he wold pray hire fader ſpecially
That of his magefter he wolde encline
To vouchefauf fom day with him to dine;
She praied him eke he fhulde by no way
Unto hire fader no word of hire fay.
Som men wold fayn how that the child Maurice
Doth this meffage until this emperour;
But as I geffe Alla was not fo nice,
To him that is fo foveraine of honour,
D
11
50
THE MAN OF LAWES TALE.
As he that is of Criften folk the flour,
Send any child, but it is bet to deme
He went himſelf, and fo it may wel ſeme.
This emperour hath granted gentilly
To come to dinner as he him befoughte;
And wel rede I he loked befily
Upon this child, and on his doughter thought.
Alla goth to his inne, and as him ought
Arraied for this feite in every wife
As ferforth as his conning may fuffice.
The morwe came, and Alla gain him dreffe,
And eke his wif, this emperour to mete;
And forth they ride in joye and in gladneffe;
And whan the faw hire fader in the ftrete,
She light adoun and falleth him to fete.
Fader, quod fhe, your yonge child Cuſtance
Is now ful clene out of your remembrance.
In the olde Romane geftes men may find
Maurices lif, I bere it not in mind.
This King Alla, when he his time fey,
With his Cuſtance, his holy wif fo fwete,
To Englond ben they come the righte wey,
Ther as they live in joye and in quiete :
But litel while it lafteth I you hete;
Joye of this world for time wol not abide,
Fro day to night it changeth as the tide.
Who lived ever in fwiche delite o day
That him ne meved eyther confcience,
Or ire, or talent, or fom kin affray,
Envie, or pride, or paffion, or offence?
I ne fay but for this end this ſentence,
That litel while in joye or in plefance
Lafteth the bliffe of Alla with Cuftance.
For Deth, that taketh of hie and lowe his rente
I am your doughter, your Cuſtance, quod fhe, Whan paffed was a yere, even as I gefſe,
That whilom ye han fent into Surrie;
It am I, fader, that in the falte fee
Was put alone, and dampned for to die:
Now, goode fader, I you mercie crie;
Send me no more into non Hetheneffe,
But thanketh my lord here of his kindneſſe.
Who can the pitous joye tellen all
Betwix hem thre fin they ben thus ymette?
But of my Tale make an ende I fhal,
The day goth fafte, I wol no longer lette.
Thife glade folk to dinner ben yfette;
In joye and bliffe at mete I let hem dwell,
A thouſand fold wel more than I can tell.
This child Maurice was fithen Emperour
Made by the Pope, and lived Chriftenly;
To Criftes chirche did he gret honour;
But I let all his ftorie paffen by;
Of Cuftance is my Tale ſpecially;
Out of this world this King Alla he hente,
For whom Cuftance hath ful gret heveneffe;
Now let us praien God his foule bleffe :
And Dame Cuftance, finally to fay,
Toward the toun of Rome goth hire way.
To Rome is come this holy creature,
And findeth ther hire frendes hole and found;
Now is the fcaped all hire aventure :
And whan that the hire fader hath yfound,
Doun on hire knees falleth fhe to ground,
Weping for tenderneſſe in herte blithe,
She herieth God an hundred thousand fithe.
In vertue and in holy almeffe dede
They liven alle, and never afonder wende
Till deth departeth hem this lif they lede :
And fareth now wel, my Tale is at an ende.
Now Jefu Crift, that of his might may fende
Joye after wo, governe us in his grace,
And kepe us alle that ben in this place.
;
THE WIF OF BATHES PROLOGUE.
31
THE WIF OF BATHES PROLOGUE*.
EXPERIENCE, though non actoritee
Were in this world, is right ynough for me
To fpeke of wo that is in mariage;
For, Lordings, fin I twelf yere was of age
(Thanked be God that is eterne on live)
Hufbondes at chirche dore have I had five,
(If I fo often might han wedded be)
And all were worthy men in hir degree.
But me was told, not longe time agon is,
That fithen Crift ne went never but onis
To wedding in the Cane of Galilee,
That by that ilke enfample taught he me
That I ne fhulde wedded be but ones.
Lo, herke eke, which a ſharp word for the nones,
Befide a welle Jefu God and man
Spake in reprefe of the Samaritan ;
Thou haft yhadde five huſbonds, fayde he,
And thilke man that now hath wedded thee
Is not thyn huſband. Thus faid he certain;
What that he ment therby I can not fain;
But that I afke why that the fifthe man
Was non hufbond to the Samaritan?
How many might fhe have in mariage?
Yet herd I never tellen in min age
Upon this noumbre diffinitioun ;
Men may devine and glofen up and doun.
But wel I wot expreffe withouten lie,
God bad us for to wex and multiplie;
That gentil text can I wel underſtond:
Eke wel I wot he fayd that min huſbond
* The want of a few verfes to connect this Prologue with
the preceding Tale was perceived long ago, and the detea
was attempted to be fupplied by the author of the following
lines, which in mf. B. are prefixed to the common Pro-
logue;
Oure Ooft gan tho to loke up anon.
Gode mea, quod he, herkeneth everich one,
As evere mote 1 drynke wyn or ale
This Marchant hath itold á mery Tale,
Howe Januarie hadde a lither jape,
His wyf put in his hood an ape.
But hereof wil leve off as now.
Dame Wyf of Bathe, quod he, I pray you
Telle us a Tale now nexte after this.
Sir Ooft, quod the, fo God my foule blis
As I, fully thereto wil confente,
And alfo it is myn hole entente
To done yow alle difporte as that I can.
But holde me excufed; I am a woman:
I can not rcherſe as theſe clerkes kune.
And riyt anon the hath hir Tale bygunne.
Experience, &c.
Thefe lines are printed here as a juſtification for not in-
forting them in the text,
Shuld leve fader and moder and take to me;
But of no noumbre mention made he
Of bigamie or of octogamie;
Why fhuld men than fpeke of it vilanie?
Lo here the wife King, Dan Salomon,
I trowe he hadde wives mo than on,
(As wolde God it leful were to me
To be refreſhed half ſo oft as he)
Which a gift of God had he for alle his wives?
No man hath fwiche that in this world on live is.
God wot this noble king, as to my witte,
The firfte night had many a mery fitte
With eche of hem, fo wel was him on live.
Bleffed be God that I have wedded five;
Welcome the fixthe whan that ever he fhall;
For fith I wol not kepe me chafte in all,
Whan min huſband is fro the world ygone
Som Criften man fhal wedden me anon;
For than the apoſtle faith that I am fre
To wedde a' Goddes half wher it liketh me;
He faith that to be wedded is no finne;
Better is to be wedded than
to brinne.
What rekketh me though folk fay vilanie
Of fhrewed Lamech and his bigamie?
I wot wel Abraham was an holy man,
And Jacob eke, as fer as ever I can,
And eche of hem had wives mo than two,
And many another holy man alſo.
Wher can ye feen in any maner age
That highe God defended mariage
By expreffe word? I pray you telleth me,
Or wher commanded he virginitee?
I wot as wel as ye, it is no drede,
The apoftle, whan he ſpake of maidenhede,
He faid that precept thereof had he non;
Men may confeille a woman to ben on,
But confeilling is no commandement;
He put it in our own jugement,
For hadde God commanded maidenhede,
Than had he dampned wedding out of drede;
And certes if ther were no fede yfowe
Virginitee than whereof fhuld it growe?
Poule dorfte not commanden at the left
A thing of which his maiſter yaf non heft.
The dart is fette up for virginitee,
Catch who fo may, who renneth beſt let fee.
Dij
!
THE WIF OF BATHES PROLOGUE.
}
But this word is not take of every wight,
But ther as God wol yeve it of his might,
I wot wel that the apoftle was a maid,
But natheles, though that he wrote and faid
He wold that every wight were ſwiche as he,
All n'is but confeil to virginitee.
And for to ben a wif he yaf me leve,
Of indulgence, fo n'is it non repreve
To wedden me, if that my make die,
Without exception of bigamie;
All were it good no woman for to touche,
(He ment as in his bed or in his couche)
For peril is both fire and tow to affemble;
Ye know what this enfample may reſemble.
This is all and fom, he held virginitee
More parfit than wedding in freeltee
(Freelice clepe I, but if that he and ſhe
Wold lede hir lives all in chaſtitee)
I graunt it wel, I have of non envie
Who maidenhed preferre to bigamie;
It liketh hem to be clene in body and goſt:
Of min eftat I wol not maken boft.
7
For wel ye know a lord in his houfhold
Ne hath nat every veffell all of gold;
Som ben of tree, and don hir lord fervice.
God clepeth folk to him in fondry wife,
And everich hath of God a propre giſt,
Som this, fom that, as that him liketh fhift.
Virginitec is gret perfection,
And continence eke with dévotion;
But Crift, that of perfection is welle,
Ne bade not every wight he fhuld go felle
All that he had and yeve it to the poure,
And in fwiche wife follow him and his lore:
He ſpake to hem that wold live parfitly,
And, Lordings, (by your leve) that ara nat I:
I wol beftow the flour of all myn age
In th' actes and the fruit of mariage.
Tell me alfo to what conclufion
Were membres made of generation,
And of fo parfit wife a wight ywrought?
Truſteth me wel they were nat made for nought.
Gloſe who ſo wol, and fay bothe up and doun,
That they were made for purgatioun
Of urine, and of other thinges Imille,
And eke to know a female from a male:
And for non other caufe? fay ye no?
The experience wot wel it is not ſo.
So that the clerkes be not with me wroth;
I fay this, that they maked ben for both;
'This is to fayn, for office and for efe
Of engendrure, ther we not God difplefe.
Why fhuld men elles in hir bookes fette
That man fhal yelden to his wif hire dette?
Now wherwith fhald he make his payement
If he ne uſed his fely inftrument?
Than were they made upon a creature
To purge urine, and eke for engendrure.
But I fay not that every wight is hold,
That hath fwiche harneis as I to you told,
To gon and ufen hem in engendrure;
'T'han fhuld men take of chaftitee no cure.
Crift was a maide, and ſhapen as a man,
And many a ſeint, fith that this world began,
Yet lived they ever in parfit chaſtitee;
I n'ill envie with no virginitee.
Let hem with bred of pured whete be fed,
And let us wives eten barly bred:
And yet with barly bred, Mark tellen can,
Our Lord Jefu refreſhed many a man.
In ſwiche eftat as God hath cleped us
I wol perfever, I n'am not precious.
In wifhode wol I ufe min inftrument
As frely as my Maker hath it ſent.
If I be dangerous, God yeve me forwe,
Min huſband ſhal it have both even and morwe,
Whan that him lift come forth and pay his dette.
An huſbond wol I have, I wol not lette,
Which fhal be both my detour and my thrall,
And have his tribulation withall
Upon his fleſh, while that I am his wif.
I have the power during all my lif
Upon his propre body, and nat he ;
Right thus the apoftle told it unto me,
And bad our hufbonds for to love us wel:
All this fentence me liketh every del.
Up ftert the Pardoner, and that anon;
Now, Dame, quod he, by God and by Seint John
Ye ben a noble prechour in this cas:
I was about to wed a wif, alas!
What? fhuld I bic it on my fleſh ſo dere?
Yet had I lever wed no wif to-yere.
Abide, quod fhe, my Tale is not begonne;
Nay, thou shalt drinken of another tonne,
Er that I go, ſhall favor worfe than ale:
And whan that I have told thee forth my Tale
Of tribulation in mariage,
Of which I am expert in al min age,
(This is to fayn myfelf hath ben the whippe)
Than maieft thou chefen wheder thou wolt fippe
Of thilke tonne that I fhal abroche:
Beware of it er thou to neigh approche,
For I fhal tel enfamples mo than ten.
Who fo that n'ill beware by other men
By him thal other men corrected be:
Thiſe fame wordes writeth Ptholomee,
Rede in his Almajeſtie, and take it there.
Dame, I wold pray you, if your will it were,
Sayde this Pardoner, as ye began
Tell forth your Tale, and fpareth for no man,
And techeth us yonge men of your practike.
Gladly, quod fhe, fin that it may you like,
But that I pray to all this compagnie,
If that I fpeke after my fantafie,
As taketh not a greefo of that I fay,
For min entente is non but for to play.
Now, Sires, than wol I tell you forth my Tale.
As ever mote I drinken win or ale
I fhal fay foth, the hufbondes that I had
As three of hem were good and two were bad.
The three were goode men and riche and oldc;
Unnethes mighten they the ſtatute holde
In which that they were bounden unto me;
Ye wot wel what I mene of this parde.
As God me helpe I laugh whan that I thinke
How pitoufly a-night I made hem fwinke,
But by 'my fay I tolde of it no ſtore:
They had me yeven hir lond and hir trefore;
THE WIF OF BATHES PROLOGUE.
53
Me neded not do lenger diligence
To win his love or don hem reverence,
They loved me fo wel, by God above,
That I ne tolde no deintee of hir love.
A wife woman wol befie hire ever in on
To geten hir love ther as fhe hath non.
But fith I had hem holly in min hond,
And that they hadde yeven me all hir lond,
What ſhuld I taken kepe hem for to pleſe,
But it were for my profit or min eſe?
I fet hem ſo a-werke by my fay,
That many a night they fongen Wala wa!
The bacon was not fet for hem I trow
That fom men have in Effex at Donmow.
I governed hem fo wel after my lawe
That eche of hem ful blisful was and fawe
To bringen me gay thinges fro the feyre:
They were ful glade whan I ſpake him fayre ;
For God it wot I chidde hem fpitously.
Now herkeneth how I bare me proprely.
Ye wife wives, that can underſtond,
Thus fhul ye fpeke, and bere hem wrong on hond,
For half fo boldely can ther no man
Sweren and lien as a woman can.
(I fay not this by wives that ben wife,
But if it be whan they hem mifavife.)
A wife wif, if that ſhe can hire good,
Shal beren hem on hond the cow is wood,
And taken witneffe of hire owen mayd
Of hir affent; but herkeneth how I fayd.
Sire olde Kaynard, is this thin aray?
Why is my neighebourcs wif fo gay ?
She is honoured over al wher ſhe goth;
I fit at home, I have no thrifty cloth.
What doft thou at my neigheboures hous?
Is the fo faire? art thou fo amorous?
What, rowneſt thou with our maide? benedicite!
Sire olde Lechour, let thy japes be.
And if I have a goffib or a frend,
(Withouten gilt) thou chideft as a fend
If that I walke or play unto his hous.
Thou comeft hom as dronken as a mous,
And precheft on thy benche with evil prefet
'Thou fayft to me, It is a gret meſchiefe
To wed a poure woman for coftage;
And if that she be riche of high parage,
Than fayft thou that it is a tourmentric
To foffre hire pride and hire melancolie:
And if that fhe be faire, thou veray knave,
Thou fayft that every holour wol hire have;
She may no while in chaſtitee abide
That is affailed upon every fide.
Thou fayft fom folk defire us for richeffe,
Som for our ſhape, and fom for our fairneffe,
And fom for fhe can eyther fing or dance,
And fom for gentilleffe and daliance,
Som for hire hondes and hire armes fmale:
Thus goth all to the devil by thy tale.
Thou fayft men may not kepe a caftel wal,
It may fo long affailled be over al.
And if that fbe be foul, thou fayft that ſhe
Coveteth every man that the may fee ;
For as a fpanile fhe wol on him lepe
''il fhe may finden fom man hire to chepe.
Ne non fo grey goos goth ther in the lake
(As fay thou) that wol ben without a make :
And fayft it is an hard thing for to welde
A thing that no man wol his thankes helde.
Thus fayft thou, lorel, whan thou goft to bed,
And that no wiſe man nedeth for to wed,
Ne no man that entendeth unto heven.
With wilde thonder dint and firy leven
Mote thy welked nekke be to-broke.
Thou fayft that dropping houſes and eke ſmoke,
And chiding wives, maken men to flee
Out of hir owen hous. A, benedicite!
What aileth fwiche an old man for to chide ?
Thou fayft we wives wol our vices hide
Til we be faft, and than we wol hem fhewe.
Wel may that be a proverbe of a fhrewe.
Thou fayft that oxen, affes, hors, and houndes,
They ben affaied at diverfe floundes,
Bafines, lavoures, or that men hem bie,
Spones, ftooles, and all fwiche hufbondrie,
And ſo ben pottes, clothes, and aray,
But folk of wives maken non affay
'Til they ben wedded, olde dotard fhrewe,
And than, fayft thou, we wol our vices fhewe.
Thou ſayſt alſo that it diſpleſeth me
But if that thou wolt preifen my beautee,
And but thou pore alway upon my face,
And clepe me Faire Dame in every place;
And but thou make a fefte on thilke day
That I was borne, and make me fresh and gay;
And but thou do to my norice honour,
And to my chamberere within my bour,
And to my faders folk and myn allies:
Thus fayft thou, olde barel ful of lies.
And yet alfo of our prentis Jankin,
For his crifpe here, fhining as gold ſo fin,
And for he fquiereth me both up and doun,
Yet haft thou caught a falfe fufpection:
I wol him nat, though thou were ded to-morwe.
But tell me this, Why hideft thou with forwe
The keies of thy cheft away fro me?
It is my good as well as thin parde.
What, weneft thou make an idiot of our Dame?
Now by that Lord that cleped is Seint Jame,
Thou shalt nat bothe, though that thou were wood,
Be maifter of my body and of my good;
That on thou fhalt forgo maugre thin eyen.
What helpeth it of me to enquere and ſpien?
I trow theu woldeft locke me in thy chefte.
Thou fhuldeft fay, Fayr wif, go where thee lefte;
Take your diſport; I wol nat leve no tales;
I know you for a trewe wif, Dame Ales.
We love no man that taketh kepe or charge
Wher that we gon; we wol be at our large.
Of alle men yblcffed mote he be
The wife aftrologien Dan Ptholomee,
That fayth this proverbe in his Almagefte,
Of alle men his wifdom is higheſte
That rekketh not who hath the world in hond.
By this proverbe thou fhalt wel underſtond,
Have thou ynough, what thar thee rekke or care
How merily that other folkes fare?
For certes, olde dotard, by your leve,
Ye fhullen have queint right ynough at eve.
Dij
THE WIF OF BATHES PROLOGUE.
He is to gret a nigard that wol werne
A man to light a candel at his lanterne ;
He fhal have never the leffe light parde :
Have thou ynough thee thar not plainen thee.
Thou ſayſt alſo if that we make us gay
With clothing and with precious aray,
That it is peril of our chaſtitee:
And yet with forwe thou enforceft thee,
And fayft thiſe wordes in the apoftles name;
In habit made with chaſtitee and fhame
Ye women ſhul appareile you, (quod he)
And nat in treffed here and gay perrie,.
As perles, ne with gold, ne clothes riche.
After thy text ne after thy rubriche
I wol not work as mochel as a gnat.
'Thou ſayſt alſo I walke out like a cat ;
For who fo wolde fenge the cattes ſkin
Than wol the cat wel dwellen in hire in
And if the cattes fkin be fleke and gay,
She wol nat dwellen in hous half a day,
But forth the wol, or any day be dawed,
To fhew hire ſkin and gon a caterwawed.
This is to fay, if I be gay, fire fhrewe,
I wol renne out my borel for to fhewe.
Sire olde fool, what helpeth thee to ſpien?
Though thou pray Argus with his hundred eyen
To be my wardecorps, as he can beft,
In faith he fhal not kepe me but me left:
Yet coude I make his berd, fo mote I the.
Thou fayeft eke that ther ben thinges three,
Which thinges gretly troublen all this erthe,
And that no wight ne may endure the ferthe:
O lefe fire fhrewe, Jefu fort thy lif
Yet-precheft thou, an fayft, an hateful wif
Yrekened is for on of thiſe mifchances.
Be ther non other maner refemblances
That ye may liken your parables to
But if a fely wif be on of tho?
Thou likeneſt eke womans love to helle,
To barrein lond ther water may not dwelle.
Thou likeneft it alſo to wilde fire;
'The mor it brenneth, the more it hath defire
*To confume every thing that brent would be.
Thou fayeft right as wormes fhende a tre
Right fo a wif deftroieth hire huſbond;
This knowen they that ben to wives bond.
Lordings, right thus, as ye han underftond,
Bare I ftifly min old huſbondes on hond,
That thus they faiden in hir dronkenneffe;
And all was falfe but as I toke witneffe
On Jankin, and upon my nece alfo.
O Lord! the peine I did hem and the wo,
Ful giltelefs, by Goddes fwete pine,
For as an hors I coude bite and whine;
I coude plain, and I was in the gilt,
Or elles oftentime I had ben fpilt.
Who fo firft cometh to the mill firſt grint;
I plained firft, fo was our werre yſtint.
They were ful glad to excufen hem full blive
Of thing the which they never agilt hir live.
Of wenches wold I beren hem on hond
Whan that for fike unnethes might they ftond,
Yet tikeled I his herte for that he
Wend that I had of him fo gret chiertee :
I ſwore that all my walking out by night
Was for to efpien wenches that he dight:
Under that colour had I many a mirth;
For all fwiche wit is yeven us in our birth;
Deceite, wéping, fpinning, God hath yeven
To women kindly while that they may liven
And thus of o thing I may avaunten me,
At th' ende I had the beter in eche degree,
By fleight or force, or by fom maner thing,
As by continual murmur or grutching,
Namely a-bed; ther hadden they mefchance;
Ther wold I chide, and don hem no plefance
I wold no lenger in the bed abide
If that I felt his arme over my fide,
Till he had made his raunfon unto me,
Than wold I foffre him do his nicetee :
And therfore every man this Tale I tell,
Winne who ſo may, for all is for to fell.
With empty hond men may no haukes lure;
For winning wold I all his luft endure,
And maken me a feined appetit,
And yet in bacon had I never delit,
That maked me that ever I wold him chide ;
For though the Pope had fitten hem befide,
I wold not ſpare hem at hir owen bord,
For by my trouthe I quitte hem word for word.
As helpe me veray God omnipotent,
Tho I right now fhould make my teſtament,
I ne owe him not a word that it n'is quit ;
I brought it fo abouten by my wit
That they muſt yeve it up as for the beſt,
Or elles had we never been in reft ;
For though he loked as a wood leon
Yet fhuld he faille of his conclufion.
Than wold I fay, Now, goode lefe, take kepe s
How mekely loketh Wilkin oure ſhepe!
Come ner my fpoufe, and let me ba thy cheke;
Ye fhulden be al patient and meke,
And han a fwete fpiced confcience,
Sith ye fo preche of Jobes patience.
Suffreth alway fin ye fo wel can preche,
And but ye do, certain we ſhall you teche
That it is faire to han a wif in pees.
On of us two moft howen doutelees;
And fith a man is more refonable
Than woman is, ye moften ben fuffrable,
What aileth you to grutchen thus and grone?
Is it for ye wold have my queint alone?
Why take it all; lo, have it every del;
Peter, I fhrew you but you love it wel:
For if I wolde fell my bella chofe,
I coude walke as frefhe as is a rofe,
But I wol kepe it for your owen toth.
Ye be to blame, by God I fay you foth.
Swiche maner wordes hadden we on hond.
Now wol I fpeken of my of fourthe hufbond.
My fourthe hufbonde was a revellour,
This is to ſayn, he had a paramour,
And I was yonge and ful of ragerie,
Stibborne and ſtrong, and joly as a pie;
Though coude I dancen to an harpe fmale,
And fing ywis as any nightingale,
When I had dronke a draught of fwete wine,
Mettellius, the foul cherle, the fwine,
ì
THE WIF OF
BATHES PROLOGUE.
55
T
That with a ftaf beraft his wif hire lif
For fhe drank wine, though I had been his wif
Ne fhuld he not have daunted me fro drinke;
And after wine of Venus mot 1 thinke;
For al fo fiker as cold engendreth hayl
A likerous mouth moft han a likerous tayl.
In woman vinolent is no defence,
This knowen lechours by experience.
But, Lord Crift! whan that it remembreth me
Upon my youth, and on my jolitee,
It tikeleth me about myn herte rote:
Unto this day it doth myn herte bote,
That I have had my world as in my time.
But age, alas! that all wol envenime,
Hath me beraft my beautee and my pith;
Let go, farewel, the devil go therwith!
The flour is gon, ther n'is no more to tell ;
The bren as I beſt may now moſte I fell.
But yet to be right mery wol I fond,
Now forth to tellen of my fourthe huſbond.
I fay I had in herte gret deſpit
That he of any other had delit:
But he was quit by God and by Seint Joce :
I made him of the fame wood a croce,
Not of my body in no foule manere,
But certainly I made folk fwiche chere,
That in his owen grefe I made him frie,
For anger and for veray jaloufie.
By God, in erth I was his Purgatorie,
For which I hope his foule be in glorie :
For, God it wote, he fate ful oft and fonge
Whan that his fho ful bitterly him wronge :
Ther was no wight, fave God and he, that wiſte
In many a wife how fore that I him twite.
He died whan I came fro Jerufalem,
And lith ygrave under the rode-beem;
All is his. tombe not fo curious
As was the fepulcre of him Darius,
Which that Appelles wrought fo fotelly:
It is but waft to bury hem preciouſly.
Let him farewel, God give his foule reft,
He is now in his grave and in his cheft.
Now of my fifthe huſbónde wol I telle:
God let his foule never come in helle :
And yet was he to me the mofte fhrew;
That fele 1 on my ribbes all by rew,
And ever ſhal unto min ending day :
But in our bed he was fo freſh and gay,
And therwithall he coude fo well me glofe,
Whan that he wolde han my belle chofe,
That though he had be bet on every bon
He coude win agen my love anon.
I trow I loved him the bet, for he
Was of his love fo dangerous to me.
We wimmen han, if that I fhal not lie,
In this matere a queinte fantaſie.
Waite, what thing we may nat lightly have,
Therafter wol we cry all day and crave.
Forbede us thing and that defiren we;
Prefe on us faft and thanne wol we flee.
With danger uttren we all our chaffare
Grèt prees at market maketh dere ware,
And to gret chepe is holden at litel prife;
This knoweth every woman that is wife.
My fifthe hufbonde, God his foule bleffe,
Which that I toke for love and no richeſſe,
He fomtime was a clerk of Oxenforde,
And had left fcole, and went at home at borde
With my goffib, dwelling in oure toun,
God have hire foule! hire name was Alifoun.
She knew my herte and all my privetee
Bet than our parish preeft, fo mote I the:
To hire bewried I my counfeil all,
For had my huſbond piſſed on a wall,
Or don a thing that fhuld have coft his lif,
To hire, and to another worthy wif,
And to my nece, which that I loved wel,
I wold have told his counfeil every del :
And fo I did ful often, God it wote,
That made his face full often red and hote
For veray fhame, and blamed himſelf, for he
Had told to me fo gret a privatee.
And fo befell that ones in a Lent
(So often times I to my goffib went,
For ever yet I loved to be gay,
And for to walke in March, April, and May,
From hous to hous, to heren fundry tales)
That Jankin clerk, and my goflib Dame Alcs,
And I myſelf, into the feldes went.
Myn hufbond was at London all that Lent:
I had the better leifer for to pleie,
And for to fee, and eke for to be feie
Of lufty folk. What wift I wher my grace
Was fhapen for to be, or in what place ?
Therfore made I my vifitations
To vigilies and to proceffions,
To prechings eke, and to thiſe pilgrimages,
To playes of miracles, and mariages,
And wered upon my gay fkarlet gites.
Thife wormes, ne thife mothes, ne thife mites,
Upon my paraille frett hem never a del;
And woft thou why? for they were uſed wel,
Now wol I tellen forth what happed me.
I fay that in the feldes walked we
Till trewely we had fwiche daliance,
This clerk and I, that of my purvéance
Ifpake to him, and faid him how that he,
If I were widewe, fhulde wedden me.
For certainly, I fay for no bobance,
Yet was I never without purveance
Of mariage, ne of other thinges eke :
I hold a moufes wit not worth a leke
That hath but on hole for to fterten to,
And if that faille, than is all ydo.
I bare him on hond he had enchanted me,
(My dame taughte me that fubtiltee)
And eke I fayd I mette of him all night,
He wold han flain me as I lay upright,
And all my bed was ful of veray blood;
But yet I hope that ye fhuln do me good,
For blood betokeneth gold, as me was taught,
And al was falfe, I dreamed of him right naught,
But as I folwed ay my dames lore,
As wel of that as of other thinges more.
But now, Sire, let me fee, what fhall I fain?
A ha! by God I have my Tale again.
Whan that my fourthe hufbonde was on bere,
I wept algate and made a fory chere,
D iiij
f
50
THE WIF OF BATHES PROLOGUE.
As wives moten, for it is the uſage,
go
And with my coverchefe covered my viſage;
But for that I was purveyed of a make,
I wept but fmal, and that I undertake.
To chirche was myn hufbond born a-morwe
With neigheboures that for him maden forowe,
And Jankin oure clerk was on of tho:
As helpe me God, whan that I faw him
After the bere, me thought he had a paire
Of legges and of feet fo clene and faire
That all my herte I yave unto his hold.
He was, I trow, a twenty winter old,
And I was fourty, if I fhal fay foth,
But yet I had alway a coltes toth.
Gat-tothed I was, and that became me wele;
I had the print of Seint Venus fele.
As helpe me God, I was a lufty on,
And faire, and riche, and yonge, and wel begon;
And trewely, as min hufbondes tolden me,
I had the befte queint that mighte be,
For certes I am all Venerian
In feling, and my herte is Martian :
Venus me yave my luft and likeroufneffe,
And Mars yave me my fturdy hardineffe.
Min afcendent was Taure, and Mars therinne :
Alas, alas! that ever love was finne!
I folwed ay min inclination
By vertue of my conftellation;
'That made me that I coude nat withdraw
My chambre of Venus from a good felaw;
Yet have I Martes merke upon my face,
And alſo in another privee place :
For God fo wifly be my falvation,
I loved never by no difcretion,
But ever folwed min appetit,
All were he ſhorte, longe, blacke, or white:
I toke no kepe, ſo that he liked me,
How poure he was, ne eke of what degree.
What fhulde 1 fay? but at the monthes ende
This joly clerk Jankin, that was ſo hende,
Hath wedded nie with gret folempnitee,
And to him yave I all the lond and fee
That ever was me yeven therbefore,
But afterward repented me ful fore.
He n'olde fuffre nothing of my liſt :
By God he fmote me ones with his fift,
For that I rent out of his book a lefe,
That of the ftroke myn ere wex all defe.
Stibborne I was as is a leoneffe,
And of my tonge a veray janglereffe;
And walke I wold, as I had don beforn,
Fro hous to hous, although he had it fworn,
For which he oftentimes wold preche,
And me of olde Romaine geftes teche.
How he Sulpitius Gallus left his wif,
And hire forfoke for terme of all his lif,
Not but for open-heded he hire ſay
Loking out at his dore upon a day.
Another Romaine told he me by name,
That for his wif was at a fommer game
Without his weting he forfoke hire eke.
And than wold he upon his Bible feke
That ilke proverbe of Ecclefiafte,
Wher he commandeth, and fort edeth fafte,
Man fhal not fuffer his wif go roule aboute.
Than wold he ſay right thus withouten doute,
Who fo that bildeth his hous all of falwes,
And priketh his blind hors over the falwes,
And ſuffereth his wif to go feken halwes,
Is worthy to be honged on the galwes.
But all for nought; I fette not an hawe
Of his proverbes ne of his olde ſawe;
Ne I wold not of him corrected be.
I hate hem that my vices tellen me,
And fo do mo of us (God wote) than I.
This made him wood with me all utterly;
I n'olde not forbere him in no cas.
Now wol I ſay you foth, by Seint Thomas,
Why that I rent out of his book a lefe,
For which he finote me fo that I was defe.
He had a book that gladly night and day
For his difport he wolde it rede alway ;
He cleped it Valerie and Theophraft,
And with that book he lough away ful faſt.
And eke ther was a clerk fomtime at Rome,
A cardinal, that highte Seint Jerome,
That made a book again Jovinian,
Which book was ther, and eke Tertullian,
Crifippus, Trotula, and Helowis,
That was abbeffe not fer fro Paris,
And eke the Paraboles of Salomon,
Ovides Art, and bourdes many on;
And alle thiſe were bonden in o volume.
And every night and day was his cuftume
(Whan he had leifer and vacation
From other worldly occupation)
To reden in this book of wikked wives :
He knew of hem mo legendes and mo lives
Than ben of goode wives in the Bible,
For trufteth wel it is an impoffible
That any clerk wol fpcken good of wives,
(But if it be of holy feintes lives)
Ne of non other woman never the mo.
Who peinted the leon, telleth me who?
By God if wimmen hadden written ftories,
As clerkes han, within hir oratories,
They wold have writ of men more wikkedneffe
Than all the merke of Adam may redreffe.
The children of Mercury and of Venus
Ben in hir werking ful contrarious.
Mercury loveth wifdom and ſcience,
And Venus loveth riot and difpence;
And for hir divers difpofition
Eche falleth in others exaltation :
As thus; God wote Mercury is defolat
In Pifces, wher Venus is exaltat,
And Venus falleth wher Mercury is reifed,
Therfore no woman of no clerk is preifed.
The clerk whan he is old, and may naught do
Of Venus werkes not worth his old fho,
Than fiteth he doun and writeth in his dotage
That wimmen cannot kepe hir mariage.
But now to purpos why I tolde thee
That I was beten for a book parde.
Upon a night Jankin, that was our fire,
Red on his book as he fate by the fire,
Of Eva firſt, that for hire wickedneſſe,
Was all mankinde brought to wretchedneffe
?
. THE WIF OF
37
BATHES PROLOGUE.
For which that Jefu Crift himſelf was flain,
That bought us with his herte blood again.
Lo here expreffe of wimmen may ye find
That woman was the loffe of all mankind.
Tho redde he me how Sampfon loft his heres,
Sleping his lemman kitte hem with hire fheres,
Thurgh whiche trefon loft he both his eyen,
Tho redde he me, if that I fhall not lien,
Of Hercules, and of his Deianire,
That caufed him to fet himſelf a-fire.
Nothing forgat he the care and the wo
That Socrates had with his wives two;
How Xantippa caft piffe upon his hed.
This fely man fat ftill as he were ded;
He wiped his hed; no more dorſt he ſain
But, Er the thonder ftint ther cometh rain.
Of Paſiphae, that was the Quene of Crete,
For fhrewedneffe him thought the tale ſwete.
Fie! fpeke no more (it is a grifely thing)
Of hire horrible luft and hire liking.
Of Clitemneftra, for hire lecherie
That falfely made hire hufbond for to die,
He redde it with ful good devotion.
He told me eke for what occafion
Amphiorax at Thebes loft his lif:
My, huſbond had a legend of his wif
Eriphile, that for an ouche of gold
Hath prively unto the Grekes told
Wher that hire huſbond hidde him in a place,
For which he had at Thebes fory grace.
Of Lima told he me, and of Lucie ;
They bothe made hir huſbondes for to die,
That on for love, that other was for hate.
Lima hir huſbond on an even late
Enpoyfoned hath, for that fhe was his fo:
Lucia likerous loved hire huſbond fo,
That for he fhuld alway upon hire thinke,
She yave him fwiche a maner love-drinke,
That he was ded er it were by the morwe:
And thus algates hufbondes hadden forwe.
Than told he me how on Latumeus
Complained to his felaw Arius,
That in his gardin growed fwiche a tree,
On which he faid how that his wives three
Honged hemfelf for hertes defpitous.
O leve brother! quod this Arius,
Yeve me a plant of thilke bleffed tree,
And in my gardin planted fhal it be.
Of later date, of wives hath he redde,
That fom han flain hir hufbondes in hir bedde,
And let hir lechour dight hem all the night,
While that the corps lay in the flore upright;
And fom han driven nailes in hir brain,
While that they flepe, and thus they han hem flain
Som han hem yeven poyſon in hir drink.
He fpake more harm than herte may bethinke.
And therwithall he knew of mo proverbes
Than in this world ther growen gras or herbes.
Bet is (quod he) thin habitation
Be with a leon or a foule dragon
Than with a woman ufing for to chide.
Bet is (quod he) high in the roof abide
Than with an angry woman doun in the hous,
They Len fo wikked and contrarious :
;
They haten that hir huſbondes loven ay.
He fayd a woman caſt hire ſhame away
Whan fhe caft of hire ſmock; and forther mo,
A faire woman, but ſhe be chaſt alſo,
Is like a gold ring in a fowes noſe.
Who coude wene or who coude ſuppoſe
The wo that in min herte was and the pine?
And whan I faw he n'olde never fine
To reden on this curfed book all night,
Al fodenly three leves have I plight
Out of his book, right as he redde, and eke
I with my fift fo toke him on the cheke
That in oure fire he fell backward adoun;
And he up fterte as doth a wood leoun,
And with his fift he fmote me on the hed,
That in the flore I lay as I were ded.
And whan he ſaw how ftille that I lay
He was agaft, and wold have fled away,
'Til at the laſt out of my fwough I brayde.
O! haft thou flain me, falſe thief? I fayde,
And for my lond thus haft thou mordred me?
Er I be ded yet wol I kiffen thee.
And nere he came, and kneled faire adoun,
And fayde, Dere fufter Alifoun!
As helpe me God I ſhal thee never ſmite :
That I have don it is thyfelf to wite;
Foryeve it me, and that I thee befeke.
And yet eftfones I hitte him on the cheke,
And fayde, Theef, thus much am I awréke.
Now wol I die, I may no longer ſpeke.
But at the laſt, with mochel care and wo,
We fell accorded by ourſelven two.
He yaf me all the bridel in min hond
To han the governance of hous and lond,
And of his tonge and of his hond alſo,
And made him brenne his book anon right the
And whan that I had getten unto me
By maiſtrie all the foverainetee,
And that he fayd, Min owen trewe wif,
Do as thee lift the terme of all thy lif;
Kepe thin honour, and kepe eke min eftat;
After that day we never had debat.
God helpe me fo, I was to him as kinde
As any wif fro Denmark unto Inde,
And al fo trewe, and fo was he to me:
I
pray to God that fit in majeftee
So bliffe his foule, for his mercy dere.
Now wol I fay my Tale if ye wol here.
The Frere lough whan he had herd all this :
Now, Dame, quod. he, fo have I joye and blits,
This is a long preamble of a Tale.
And whan the Sompnour herd the Frere gale,
Lo (quod this Sompnour) Goddes armes two,
A Frere wol entermete him evermo:
Lo, goode men, a flie and eke a Frere
Wol fall in every difh and eke matere.
What ſpekeft thou of preambulatioun ?
What? amble or trot, or pees, or go fit doun:
Thou letteft our difport in this matere.
Ye, wolt thou fo, Sire Sompnour? quod the Frere,
Now by my faith I fhal, er that I go,
Tell of a Sompnour ſwiche a Tale or two,
That all the folk fhal laughen in this place.
Now elles, Frere, I will befhrewe thy face,
58
THE WIF OF BATHES PROLOGUE.
(Quod this Sompnour) and I befhrewe me
But if I telle Tales two or three
Of Freres, or I come to Sidenborne,
That I fhal make thin herte for to morne,
For well wot thy patience is gone.
Our Hofte cried, Pees, and that anon;
And fayde, Let the woman tell hire Tale ;
Ye fare as folk that dronken ben of ale..
Do, Dame, tell forth your Tale, and that is beft.
Al redy, Sire, quod fhe, right as you left,
If I have licence of this worthy Frere.
Yes, Dame, quod he, tell forth, and I wol here.
ÎN
THE WIF OF BATHES TALE*.
is olde dayes of the King Artour,
Of which that Bretons fpeken gret honour,
All was this lond fulfilled of Faeric;
The Elf quene with hire joly compagnie
Danced ful oft in many a grene mede,
This was the old opinion as I rede;
I fpeke of many hundred yeres ago,
But now can no man fee non elves mo;
For now the grete charitee and prayeres
Of limitoures and other holy freres,
That ferchen every land and every ftreme,
As thikke as motes in the fonne beme,
Bliffing hallcs, chambres, kichens, and boures,
Citees and burghes, caftles highe and toures,
Thropes and bernes, fhepenes and daires,
This maketh that therben no Faeries:
For ther as wont to waken was an elf,
Ther walketh now the limatour himfelf
In undermeles and in morweninges,
And fayth his matines and his holy thinges
As he goth in his limitatioun.
Women may now go fafely up and doun,
In every bush, and under every trec,
*Ther is non other Incubes but he,
And he ne will don hem no difhonour.
An fo befell it that this King Artour
Had in his hous a lufty bacheler,
That on a day came riding fro river:
And happed that, alone as fhe was borne,
He faw a maiden walking him beforne,
Of which maid he anon, maugre hire hcd,
By veray force beraft hire maidenhed:
For which oppreffion was fwiche clamour,
And ſwiche purfuite unto the King Artour,
That damned was this knight for to be ded,
By cours of lawe, and fhuld have loft his hed,
(Paraventure ſwiche was the ftatute tho)
But that the quene and other ladies mo
*A batchelor of King Arthur's court is enjoined by the
Queen, upon pain of death, to tell what thing it is that wo-
men do molt defire, at length he is taught it by an old
woman, whom he is enforced to marry. Urry,
So longe praieden the king of grace,
Til he his lif him granted in the place,
And yaf him to the quene, all at hire will
To chefe whether the wold him fave or fpill.
The quene thanketh the king with all hire might;
And after this thus fpake the to the knight,
Whan that ſhe faw hire time upon a day.
Thou ftandeft yet (quod fhe) in fwiche array,
That of thy lif yet haft thou not feuretee;
I grant thee lif if thou canft tellen me
What thing is it that women moft defiren:
Beware, and keppe thy nekke bone from yren.
And if thou canst not tell it me anon,
Yet wol I yeve thee leve for to gon
A twelvemonth and a day to feke and lere
And anfwer fuffifant in this matere;
And feuretee wol I have, or that thou pace,
Thy body for to yelden in this place.
Wo was the knight, and forwefully he fiketh :
But what? he may not don all as him liketh.
And at the laft he chefe him for to wende,
And come agen right at the yeres ende
With fwiche anfwer as God wold him purvay,
And taketh his leve, and wendeth for his way,
He feketh every hous and every place.
Wher as he hopeth for to finden grace,
To lernen what thing women loven mofte;
But hene coude ariven in no cofte
Wher as he mighte find in this matere
Two creatures according in fere.
Som faiden women loven beft richeffe,
Som faiden honour, fom faiden jolineffe,
Som riche array, fom faiden luft a-bedde,
And oft time to be widewe and to be wedde.
Some faiden that we ben in herte moft efed
Whan that we ben yflatered and ypreifed.
He goth ful nigh the foth, I wol not lie;
A man fhal winne us beft with flaterie;
And with attendance and with befineffe
Ben we ylimed bothe more and leffe.
And fom men faiden that we loven best
For to be free, and do right as us left,
THE WIF OF BATHES TALE.
55
And that no man répreve us of our vice,
But fay that we ben wife and nothing nice :
For trewely ther n'is non of us all,
If any wight wol claw us on the gall,
That we n'ill kike for that he faith us foth;
Aflay, and he fhal find it that ſo doth :
For be we never fo vicious withinne
We wol be holden wife and clene of finne.
And fom faiden that gret delit han we
For to be holden ſtable and eke fecre,
And in o purpos ftedfaftly to dwell,
And not bewreyen thing that men us tell;
Bot that tale is not worth a rake-ſtele.
Parde we women connen nothing hele,
Witneffe on Mida; wol ye here the Tale?
Ovide, amonges other thinges fmale,
Said Mida had under his longe heres
Growing upon his hed two alles eres,
The whiche vice he hid, as he beſte might,
Ful fubtilly from every mannes fight,
That fave his wif ther wift of it no mo;
He loved hire moſt, and truſted hire alſo;
He praied hire that to no creature
She u'olde tellen of his disfigure.
She fwore him Ney, for all the world to winne
She molde do that vilanie ne finne,
To make hire hufbond han fo foule a name :
She n'olde not tell it for hire owen fhame.
But natheles hire thoughte that ſhe dide
That ſhe fo longe fhuld a confeil hide;
Hire thought it fwal fo fore about hire herte,
That nedely fom word hire muſt afterte;
And fith the dorft nat telle it to no man,
Doun to a marcis fafte by fhe ran;
'Til the came ther hire herte was a-fire:
And as a bitore bumbleth in the mire,
She laid hire mouth unto the water doun.
Bewrey me not, thou water, with thy foun,
Quod fhe; to thee I tell it, and no mo,
Min huſbond hath long affes eres two.
Now is min herte all hole, now is it out,
I might no lenger kepe it out of dout.
Here may ye fee, though we a time abide,
Yet out it mofte; we can no confeil hide.
The remenant of the Tale, if ye wol here,
Redeth Ovide, and ther ye may it lere.
This knight, of which my Tale is fpecially,
Whan that he ſaw he might not come therby,
(This is to fayn, what women loven moft)
Within his breft ful forweful was his goft.
But home he goth, he mighte not fojourne;
The day was come that homward muft he turne.
And in his way it happed him to ride,
In all his care, under a forcft fide,
Wheras he faw upon a dance go
Of ladies foure-and-twenty, and yet mo.
Toward this ilke dance he drow ful yerne,
In hop that he fom wifdom fhulde lerne;
But certainly er he came fully there
Yvanished was this dance he n'ifte not wher;
No creature faw he that bare lif,
Save on the grene he faw fitting a wif,
A fouler wight ther may no man devife.
Againe this knight this olde wif gan arife,
And faide Sire Knight, here forth ne lith no way,
Tell me what that ye feken by your fay,
Paraventure it may the better be:
Thife olde folk con mochel thing, quod fhe.
My love mother, quod this knight, certain
I n'am but ded but if that I can fain
What thing it is that women moft defire:
Coude ye me wiffe I wold quite wel your hire.
Plight me thy trouthe here in myn hond, quod fhe,
The nexte thing that I requere of thee
Thou shalt it do, if it be in thy might,
And I wol tell it you or it be night.
Have here my trouthe, qued the knight, I
graunte.
Thanne, quod fhe, I dare me wel avaunte
Thy lif is fauf, for I wol ftond therby,
Upon my lif the quene wol fay as I.
Let fee which is the proudeft of hem alle,
That wereth on a kerchef or a calle,
That dare fayn nay of that I fhal you teche.
Let us go forth withouten lenger fpeche.
Tho rowned fhe a piſtel in his ere,
And bad him to be glad, and have no fere.
Whan they ben comen to the court, this knight
Said he had hold his day as he had hight,
And redy was his anfwere, as he faide.
Ful many a noble wif, and many a maide,
And many a widewe, for that they ben wife,
(The quene hirefelf fitting as a juftice),
Affembled ben his anfwer for to here,
And afterward this knight was bode appere.
To every wight commanded was filence,
And that the knight ſhuld tell in audience
What thing that worldly women loven beft.
This knight ne ftood not fill as doth a beft,
But to this queſtion anon anfwerd
With manly vois, that all the court it herd.
My liege Lady, generally, quod he,
Women defiren to han foveraintee,
As well over hir hufbond as hir love,
And for to ben in maiftrie him above.
This your moft defire, though ye me kille;
Doth as you lift, I am here at your wille.
In all the court ne was ther wif ne maide,
Ne widewe, that contraried that he ſaide,
But faid he was worthy to han his lif.
And with that word up ftert this olde wif
Which that the knight faw fitting on the grene.
Mercy, quod fhe, my foveraine lady Quene,
Er that your court depart, as doth me right.
I taughte this anfwere unto this knight,
For which he plighte me his trouthe there,
The firfte thing I wold of him requere,
He wold it do, if it lay in his might.
Before this court than pray I thee, Sire, Knight,
Qued fhe, that thou me take unto thy wif.
For wel thou woft that I have kept thy lif:
If I fay falfe, fay nay upon thy fay.
This knight answered, Alas and wala wa!
Iwot right wel that fwiche was my beheft.
For Goddes love as chefe a new requeſt :
Take all my good, and let my body go.
Nay than, quod fhe, I fhrewe us bothe two :
裔
​60
THE WIF OF BATHES TALE.
For though that I be olde, foule, and pore,
I n'olde for all the metal ne the ore
That under erthe is grave, or lith above,
But if thy wif I were and eke thy love.
My love! quod he; nay, my dampnation.
Alas! that any of my nation
Shuld ever fo foule difparaged be.
But all for nought; the end is this, that he
Conſtrained was he nedes muſt hire wed,
And taketh this olde wif, and goth to bed.
Now wolden fom men fayn paraventure,
That for my negligence I do no cure
To tellen you the joye and all the array
That at the fefte was that ilke day.
To which thing fhortly anfweren I fhal:
I fay ther was no joye ne fefte at al;
Ther n'as but hevineffe and mochel forwe;
For prively he wedded hire on the morwe,
And all day after hid him as an oule,
So wo was him his wif loked fo foule.
Gret was the wo the knight had in his thought
Whan he was with his wif a-bed ybrought;
He walweth, and he turneth to and fro.
This olde wif lay fmiling evermo,
And faid, O dere hufbond, benedicite!
Fareth ever knight thus with wif as ye?
Is this the lawe of King Artoures hous?
Is every knight of his thus dangerous?
I am your owen love, and eke your wif,
I am the which that faved hath your lif,
And certes yet did I you never unright;
Why fare ye thus with me this firfte night?
Ye faren like a man had loft his wit.
What is my gilt? for Goddes love tell it,
And it fhal ben amended if I may.
Amended! quod this knight, alas! nay, nay,
It wol not ben amended never mo;
Thou art fo lothly, and fo olde alſo,
And therto comen of fo low a kind,
That littel wonder is though I walwe and wind;
So wolde God min herte wolde breft.
Is this, quod fhe, the caufe of your unreſt?
Ye certainly, quod he, no wonder is.
Now Sire, quod fhe, I coude amend all this,
If that me lift, er it were dayes three,
So wel ye mighten bere you unto me.
But for ye fpeken of fwiche gentilleſſe
As is defcended out of old richeffe ;
That therefore fhullen ye be gentilmen;
Swiche arrogance n'is not worth an hen.
Loke who that is moft vertuous alway,
Prive and apert, and moſt entendeth ay
To do the gentil dedes that he can,
And take him for the greteft gentilman.
Crift wol we claime of him our gentilleffe,
Not of our elders for hir old richeffe ;
For though they yeve us all hir heritage,
For which we claime to ben of high parage,
Yet may they not bequethen for no thing
To non of us hir vertuous living,
That made hem gentilmen called to be,
And bade us folwen hem in fwiche degree
Wel can the wife poet of Florence,
That highte Dant, fpeken of this ſentence :
Lo in fwiche maner rime is Dantes tale,
Ful felde up rifeth by his branches fmale
Proweffe of man, for God of his goodneffe
Wol that we claime of him our gentilleffe;
For of our elders may we nothing claime
But temporel thing, that man may hurt and
Eke every wight wot this as wel as I, [maime.
If gentilleffe were planted naturelly
Unto a certain linage doun the line,
Prive and apert, than wold they never fine
To don of gentilleſſe the faire office;
They mighten do no vilanie or vice.
Take fire, and bere it into the derkeſt hous
Betwix this and the Mount of Cacafus,
And let men fhette the doers, and go thenne,
Yet wol the fire as faire lie and brenne
As twenty thoufand men might it behold;
His office naturel ay wol it hold,
Up peril of my lif, til that it die.
Here may ye fee wel how that genteric
Is not annexed to poffeffion,
Sith folk ne don hir operation
Alway, as doth the fire, lo, in his kind :
For God it wot men moun ful often find
A lordes fone do fhame and vilanie.
And he that wol han pris of his genterie,
For he was boren of a gentil hous,
And had his elders noble and vertuous,
And n'ill himfelven do no gentil dedes,
Ne folwe his gentil aunceftrie that ded is,
He n'is not gentil, be he duk or erl,
For vilains finful dedes make a cherl:
For gentilleffe n'is but the renomee
Of thin aunceftres for hir high bountee,
Which is a ftrange thing to thy perfone:
Thy gentilleffe cometh fro God alone;
Than cometh our veray gentilleffe of grace;
It was no thing bequethed us with our place.
Thinketh how noble, as faith Valerius,
Was thilke Tullius Hoftilius,
That out of poverte roſe to high nobleſſe.
Redeth Senck, and redeth eke Boece,
Ther fhull ye feen expreffe that it no dred is
That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis:
And therefore, leve huſbond, I thus conclude,
Al be it that min aunceftres, weren rude,
Yet may the highe God, and fo hope I,
Granten me grace to liven vertuouſly;
Than am I gentil whan that I beginne
To liven vertuouſly and weiven finne.
And ther as ye of poverte me repreve,
The highe God, on whom that we beleve,
In wilful poverte chefe to lede his lif;
and certes every man, maiden, or wif,
May underſtond that Jeſus heven king
Ne wold not chefe a vicious living.
Glad poverte is an honeft thing certain,
This wol Senck and other clerkes fain.
Who ſo that halt him paid of his poverte,
I hold him rich, al had he not a fherte.
He that coveiteth is a poure wight,
For he wold han that is not in his might;
But he that nought hath, ne coveiteth to have,
Is riche, although ye hold him but a knave.
THE WIF
WIF OF BATHES TALE.
61
Veray poverte is finne proprely.
Juvenal faith of poverte merily,
The poure man whan he goth by the way,
Beforn the theves he may fing and play.
Poverte is hateful good; and, as I geffe,
A ful gret bringer out of befineffe;
A gret amender eke of fapience
To him. that taketh it in patience.
Poverte is this, although it fome elenge,
Poffeffion that no wight wol challenge.
Poverte ful often, whan a man is low,
Maketh his God and eke himfelf to know.
Poverte a fpectakel is, as thinketh me,
Thurgh which he may his veray frendes fee.
And therefore, Sire, fin that I you not greve,
Of my poverte no more me repreve.
Now, Sire, of elde that ye repreven me :
And certes, Sire, though non auctoritee
Were in no book, ye gentiles of honour
Sain that men fhuld an olde wight honour,
And clepe him Fader, for your gentilleffe;
And auctours fhal I finden, as I geffe.
Now ther ye fain that I am foule and old,
Than drede ye not to ben a cokewold;
For filthe, and elde alfo, fo mote I the,
Ben grete wardeins upon chaſtitee.
But natheles, fin I know your delit,
I fhal fulfill your wordly appetit.
But at the laſt he ſaid in this manere:
My lady and my love, and wif ſo dere,
I put me in your wife governance,
Chefeth yourſelf which may be moft plefance.
And most honour to you and me alfo,
I do no force the whether of the two,
For as you liketh it fufficeth me.
Than have I got the maiftere, quod fhe,
Sin I may chefe and governe as me left.
Ye certes, wif, quod he, I hold it beft.
Kiffe me, quod fhe, we be no lenger wrothe,
For by my trouth I wol be to you bothe,
This to fayn, ye bothe faire and good.
I pray to God that I mote fterven wood
But I to you be al ſo good and trewe
As ever was wif fin that the world was newe,
And but I be to-morwe as faire to feen
As any lady, emperice, or quene,
That is betwix the eft and eke the weſt,
Doth with my lif and deth right as you left.
Caft up the curtein, loke how that it is.
And whan the knight faw veraily all this,
That ſhe ſo faire was, and fo yonge therto,
For joye he hent hire in his armes two:
His herte bathed in a bath of bliffe,
A thouſand time a-row he gan hire kiffe :
And the obeyed him in every thing
That mighte don him plefance or liking.
Chefe now (quod fhe) on of thife thinges twey, And thus they live unto hir lives ende
To han me foule and old til that I dey,
And be to you a trewe humble wif,
And never you difplefe in all my lif;
Or elles wol ye han me yonge and faire,
And take your aventure of the repaire
That fhal be to your hous becauſe of me,
Or in fom other place it may wel be?
Now chefe yourſelven whether that you liketh.
This knight aviſeth him, and fore fiketh,
In parfit joye; and Jefu Crift us fende
Huſbondes meke and yonge, and fresh a-bed,
And grace to overlive hem that we wed,
And eke I pray Jefus to fhort hir lives
That wol not be governed by hir wives;
And old and angry nigards of diſpence
God fend hem fone a veray peftilence.
*
62
THE FRERES PROLOGUE.
1
THIS
THE FRERES PROLOGUE.
HIS worthy limitour, this noble Frere,
He made alway a maner louring chere
Upon the Sompnour, but for honeftee
No vilains word as yet to him fpake he;
But at the laſt he ſaid unto the Wif,
Dame, (quod he) God yeve you right good lif,
Ye have here touched, all fo mote I the,
In fcole matere a ful gret difficultie;
Ye han faid mochel thing right wel I fay:
But, Dame, here as we riden by the way
Us nedeth not to fpeken but of game,
And let auctoritees, in Goddes name,
To preching and to fcole eke of clergie,
But if it like unto this compagnie
I wol you of a Sompnour tell a game;
Parde
ye may wel knowen by the name
That of a Sompnour may no good be faid;
I pray that non of you be evil apaid:
A Sompnour is a renner up and doun
With mandements for fornicatioun,
And is ybete at every tounes ende.
[hende
Tho fpake our Hofte, A, Sire, ye fhuld ben
And curteis, as a man of your eftat,
In compagnie we wiln have no debat :
Telleth your Tale, and let the Sompnour be.
Nay, quod the Sompnour, let him ſay by me
What fo him lift; whan it cometh to my lot,
By God I fhal him quiten every grot;
I ſhal him tellen which a gret honour
It is to be a flatering limitour,
And eke of many another maner crime,
Which nedeth not reherfen at this time,
And his office I fhal him tell ywis.
Our Hofte anſwered, Pees, no more of this,
And afterward he faid unto the Frere
Tel forth your Tale min owen maister derc.
THE FRERES TALE†.
WHILOM ther was dwelling in my contree
An archedeken, a man of high degree,
That boldely did execution
In puniſhing of fornication,
Of witchecraft, and eke of bauderie,
Of defamation, and avouterie,
Of chirche-reves, and of teftaments,
Of contracts, and of lack of facraments,
Of ufure, and of fimonie alfo,
But certes lechours did he greteft wo;
They fhulden fingen if that they were hent,
And fmale titheres weren foule yfhent;
† A Sompnour and the devil meeting on the way, after
conference become fworn brethren, and to hell they go
together. A covert invečlive against the bribery and cor-
ruption of the fpiritual courts in thofe days, Urry,
If any perfone wold upon hem plaine
Ther might aftert hem no pecunial peine.
For fmale tithes and fmale offering
He made the peple pitoufly to fing,
For er the biſhop hent hem with his crook
They weren in the archedekens book;
Than had he thurgh his juriſdiction
Power to don on hem correction.
He had a Sompnour redy to his hond,
A flier boy was non in Englelond;
For fubtilly he had his eſpiaille,
That taught him wel wher it might ought availle
He coude fpare of lechours on or two
To techen hem to foure-and-twenty mo :
For though this Sompnour wood be as an hare,
To tell his harlotrie I wol not ſpare,
THE FRERES TALE.
63
For we ben out of hir correction,
They han of us no juriſdiction,
Ne never fhul lave, terme of all hir lives.
Peter, fo ben the women of the ftives,
Quod this Sompnour, yput out of our cure?
Pees, with mifchance and with mifaventure,
Our Hofte faid, and let him tell his Tale.
Now te'leth forth, and let the Sompnour gale,
Ne fpaireth not, min owen maiſter dere.
This falſe theef, this Sompnour, quod the Frere,
Had alway baudes redy to his hond,
As any hauke to lure in Englelond,
That told him all the fecree that they knewe,
For hir acquaintance was not come of newe;
They weren his approvers prively:
He tooke himfelf a gret profit therby,
His maifler knew not alway what he wan.
Withouten mandement a lewed man
He coude fompne up peine of Criítes curfe,
And they were inly glad to fille his purfe,
And maken him gret feftes at the nale.
And right as Judas hadde purfes finale,
And was a theef, right ſwiche a theef was he
His maiter hadde but half his duetee.
He was (if I fhal yeven him his laud)
A theef, and eke a Sompnour, and a baud.
He had eke wenches at his retenuc,
That whether that Sire Robert or Sire Hue,
Or Jakke or Rauf, or who fo that it were
That lay by hem, they told it in his ere.
Thus was the wenche and he of on affent;
And he wold feeche a feined mandenent,
And fompne hem to the chapitre bethe two,
And pill the man and let the wenche go:
Than wold be fay, Frend, I fhal for thy fake
Do ftrike thee out of oure lettres blake;
Thee thar no more as in this cas travaille;
I am thy frend ther I may thee availle.
Certain he knew of briboures many mo
Than poffible is to tell in yeres two ;
For in this world n'is dogge for the bowe
That can an hurt dere from an hole yknowe
Bet than this Sompneur knew a flie lechour,
Or an avoutrer or a paramour;
And for that was the fruit of all his rent,
Therfore on it he fet all his entent,
And fo befell that ones on a day
'This Sompnour, waiting ever on his praye,
Rode forth to fompne a widewe, an old ribibe,
Feining a caufe, for he wold han a bribe;
And happed that he faw beforn him ride
A gay yeman under a foreft fide;
A bow he bare, and arwes bright and kene,
He had upon a courtepy of grene.
An hat upon his hed with frenges blake.
Sire, qued the Sompnour, haile, and wel atake.
Welcome, quod he, and every good felaw.
Whider rideft thou under this grene fhaw?
(Saide this yeman) wolt thou fer to-day?
3
This Sompnour him anfwerd, and faide Nay.
Here fafte by (quod he) is min entent
To riden, for to reifen up a rent
That longeth to my lordes dactee.
A art thou than a baillif? Ye, quod he.
(He dorite not for veray filth and ſhame
Say that he was a Sompnour, for the name.)
De par dieux, quod this yeman, leve brother,
Thou art a baillif, and I am another.
I am unknowen as in this contree;
Of thin acquaintance I wol prayen thee,
And eke of brotherhed, if that thee lift.
I have gold and ûlver lying in my chift;
If that thee hap to come in to our ſhire
Al fhai be thin right as thou wolt defire.
Grand mercy, quod this Sompncur, by my faith.
Everich in others hond his trouthe laith
For to be fworne brethren til they dey.
In dalizunce they riden forth and pley.
This Sompnour, which that was as ful of jangles
As ful of venime ben thife wariangles,
And ever enquering upon every thing,
Brother, quod he, wher is now your dwelling,
Another day if that I fhuld you feche ?
This yeman him anfwerd in foſte ſpeche,
Brother, quod he, fer in the north contree,
Wher as I hope fometime I fhall thee fee.
Or we depart I fhal thee fo wel wiffe,
That of min hous ne fhalt thou never miffe.
Now brother, quod this Sompnour, I you pray
Teche me, while that we riden by the way,
(Sith that ye ben a baillif as am I)
Som fubtiltee, and tell me faithfully
In min office how I may mofte winne;
And ſpareth not for confcience or for finne,
But as my brother tell me how do ye.
Now by my trouthe, brother min, faid he,
As I fhal tellen thee a faithful Tale.
My wages ben ful ftreit and eke ful fmale;
My lord is hard to me and dangerous,
And min office is ful laborious,
And therfore by extortion I leve;
Forfoth I take all that men wol me yeve :
Algates by fleighte or by violence
Fro yere to yere I win all my difpence:
I can no better tellen faithfully
Now certes (quod this Sompnour) fo fare Iş
I fpare not to taken, Ged it wote,
But if it be to hevy or to hote.
What I may gete in conftil prively
No maner confcience of that have I.
N'ere min extortion I might not liven,
Ne of fwiche japes wol I not be ſhriven.
Stomak ne confcience know I non;
I fhrew thife fhrifte faders everich on:
Wel be we met by God and by Scint Jame.
But, leve brother, tell me than thy name,
Quod this Sompnour. Right in this mene while
This yeman gan a litel for to ſmile.
Brother, qued he, wolt thou that I thee tell?
I am a fend, my dwelling is in hell,
And here I ride about my pourchafing
To wote wher men wol give me any thing:
My pourchas is th' effect of all my rent,
Loke how thou rideft for the fame entent :
To winnen good thou rekeft never how :
Right fo fare I, for riden wol I now
Unto the worldes ende for a praye.
A, qued this Sompnour, benedicite ! what fay ye ♣
64
THE FRERES TALE.
I wend ye were a yeman trewely,
Ye have a mannes fhape as wel as 1 :
Have ye then a figure determinat
In helle, ther ye ben in your eſtat?
Nay certainly, quod he, ther have we non,
But whan us liketh we can take us on,
Or elles make you wene that we ben ſhape
Somtime like a man, or like an ape,
Or like an angel can I ride or go;
It is no wonder thing though it be ſo;
A loufy jogelour can deceiven thee,
And parde yet can I more craft than he.
Why, quod the Sompnour, ride ye than or gon
In fondry fhape, and not alway in on?
For we, quod he, wol us fwiche forme make
As moſt is able our preye for to take.
What maketh you to han al this labour?
Ful many a caufe, leve Sire Sompnour,
Saide this fend. But alle thing hath time;
The day is ſhort, and it is paffed prime,
And yet ne wan I nothing in this day;
I wol entend to winning if I may,
And not entend our thinges to declare;
For, brother min, thy wit is al to bare
To underſtand, although I told hem thee.
But for thou axeft why labouren we?
For fomtime we be Goddes inftruments,
And menes to don his commandements,
Whan that him lift, upon his creatures,
In divers actes and in divers figures:
Withouten him we have no might certain,
If that him lift to ftonden theragain.
And fomtime at our praiere han we leve
Only the body and not the foul to greve;
Witneffe on Job, whom that we diden wo,
And fomtime han we might on bothe two,
This is to fain, on foule and body eke:
And fomtime be we fuffered for to feke
Upon a man, and don his foule unrefte
And not his body, and all is for the beſte.
Whan he withſtandeth our temptation
It is a caufe of his falvation,
Al be it that it was not our entente
He fhuld be fauf, but that we wold him hente.
And fomtime be we fervants unto man,
As to the Archebifhop Seint Dunstan,
And to the apoſtle fervant eke was I.
Yet tell me, quod this Sompnour, faithfully,
Make ye you newe bodies this alway
Of elements? The fend anſwered Nay.
Somtime we feine, and fomtime we arife
With ded bodies, in ful fondry wife,
And fpeke as renably, and faire, and wel,
As to the Phitoneffe did Samuel;
And yet wol fom men fay it was not he:
I do no force of your divinitee,
But o thing warne I thee, I wol not jape,
Thou wolt algates wete how we be ſhape:
Thou fhalt hereafterward, my brother dere,
Come wher thee nedeth not of me to lere,
For thou shalt by thin owen experience
Conne in a chaiere rede of this fentence
Bet than Virgile, while he was on live,
Or Dant allo. Now let us riden blive,
For I wol holden compagnie with thee
Til it be fo that thou forfake me.
Nay, quod this Sompnour, that ſhal never betide.
I am yeman knowen is ful wide;
My trouthe wol I hold, as in this cas;
For though thou were the devil Sathanas
My trouthe wol I hold to thee, my brother,
As I have fworne, and eche of us to other,
For to be trewe brethren in this cas,
And bothe we gon abouten our pourchas.
Take thou thy part, what that men wol thee yeve,
And I ſhal min, thus may we both leve ;
And if that any of us have more than other
Let him be trewe, and part it with his brother.
I graunte, quod the devil, by my fay;
And with that word they riden forth her way,
And right at entring of the tounes ende
To which this Sompnour fhope him for to wende,
They faw a cart that charged was with hay,
Which that a carter drove forth on his way.
Depe was the way, for which the carte ftood;
The carter fmote, and cried as he were wood,
Heit Scot, heit Brok; what, fpare ye for the ftones?
The fend (quod he) you fecche body and bones,
As ferforthly as ever ye were foled,
So mochel wo as I have with you tholed.
The devil have al, bothe hors, and cart, and hay.
The Sompnour fayde, Here fhal we have a praye;
And nere the fend he drow, as nought ne were,
Ful prively, and rouned in his ere,
Herken my brother, herken, by thy faith;
Hereft thou not how that the carter faith?
Hent it anon, for he nath yeve it thee,
Both hay and cart, and eke his caples three.
Nay, quod the devil, God wot never a del!
It is not his entente, truſt thou me wel:
Axe him thyfelf, if thou not troweft me,
Or elles ftint a while and thou shalt fee.
This carter thakketh his hors upon the croupe,
And they begonne to drawen and to ſtoupe,
Heit now, quod he; ther, Jefu Crift you bleffe,
And all his hondes werk bothe more and leffe!
That was wel twight, min owen Liard boy,
I pray God fave thy body and Seint Eloy.
Now is my cart out of the flough parde.
Lo, brother, quod the fend, what told I thee?
Here may ye feen, min owen dere brother,
The cherl fpake o thing but he thought another.
Let us go forth abouten our viage;
Here win I nothing upon this cariage.
Whan that they comen fomwhat out of toun
This Sompnour to his brother gan to roune;
Brother, quod he, here woneth an old rebekke
That had almoft as lefe to lefe hire nekke
As for to yeve a peny of hire good.
I wol have twelf pens though that ſhe be wood,
Or I wol fomone hire to our office,
And yet, God wot, of hire know I no vice;
But for thou canst not as in this contree
Winnen thy coſt, take here enſample of me.
This Sompnour clappeth at the widewes gate;
Come out, he fayd, thou olde very trate;
I trow thou, haft fom frere or preeſt with thee.
Who clappeth? faid this wit, benqdiçite !
THE FRERES TALE.
*5.
}
God fave you, Sire, what is your fwete will?
I have, quod he, of fomons here a bill:
Up peine of curing loke that thou be
To-morwe before the archedekenes knee,
To anfwere to the court of certain thinges.
Now Lord, quod fhe, Chrift Jefu, King of kinges,
So wifely helpe me as I ne may :
I have been fike, and that full many a day:
I may not go fo fer (quod fhe) ne ride
But I he ded, fo priketh it in my ſide.
May I not axe a libel, Sire Sompnour,
And anfwere ther by my procuratour
To fwiche thing as men wold appofen me?
Yes, quod this Sompnour, pay anon, let fee,
Twelf pens to me, and I will thee acquite:
I ſhall no proût han therby but lite;
My maiſter hath the profit and not I.
Come of, and let me riden haftily;
Yeve me twelf pens, I may no lenger tarie.
Twelf pens! quod fhe; now Lady Seint Marie
So wifly helpe me out of care and finne,
This wide world though that I fhuld it winne,
Ne have I not twelf pens within my hold,
Ye knowen wel that I am poure and old;
Kithe your almeffe upon me poure wretche.
Nay than, quod he, the foule fend me fetche
If thee excule, though thou fhuldeſt be fpilt.
Alas! quod fhe, God wot I have no guilt.
Pay me, quod he, or by the fwete Seinte Anne
As I wolbere away thy newe panne
For dette which thou oweft me of old,
Whan that thou madeft thyn huſbond cokewold,
I paied at home for thy correction.
Thou lieft, quod fhe, by my falvation ;
Ne was I never or now, widew ne wif,
Sompned unto your court in all my lif,
Ne never I n'as but of my body trewe.
Unto the devil rough and blake of hewe
Yove I thy body and my panne alfo,
And whan the devil herd hire curfen fo
Upon hire knees he fayd in this manere ;
Now Mabily, min moder dere,
Is this your will in earneft that ye fay?
The devil, quod fhe, fo fecche him or he dey,
And panne and all, but he wol him repent.
Nay, olde ftot, that is not min entent,
Quod this Sompnour, for to reperten me
For any thing that I have had of thee:
I wold I had thy fmok and every cloth.
Now brother, quod the devil, be not wroth;
Thy body and this panne ben min by right :
Thou shalt with me to helle yet to-night,
Wher thou shalt known of our privetee
More than a maiſter of divinitee.
:
And with that word the foule fend him hent
Body and foule he with the devil went
Wher as thife Sompnours han her heritage :
And God, that maked after his image
Mankinde, fave and gide us all and fome,
And lene this Sompnour good man to become.
Lordings, I coude have told you (quod this Frere)
Had I had leifer for this Sompnour here,
After the text of Crift, and Poule, and John,
And of oure other doctours many on,
Swiche peines that your hertes might agriſe,
Al be it fo that no tonge may devife,
Though that I might a thousand winter tell,
The peines of thilke curfed hous of hell :
But for to kepe us fro that curfed place
Waketh and prayeth Jefu of his grace
So kepe us fro the temptour Sathanas.
Herkneth this word, beware as in this cas;
The leon fit in his awaite alway
To fle the innocent if that he may.
Difpofeth are your hertes to withitond
The fend, that you wold maken thral and bond :
He may not tempten you over your might,
For Crift wol be your champion and your knight;
And prayeth that this Sompnour him repent
Of his mildedes, or that the fend him hent.
VOL. I.
65
THE SOMPNOURÉS PROLOGUE.
THE SOMPNOURES PROLOGUE.
THIS Sompnour in his ſtirops high he ſtood;
Upon this Frere his hearte was fo wood,
That like an afpen leef he quoke for ire.
Lordings, quod he, but o thing I defire;
I you befeche that of your curtefie,
Sin han herd this falfe Frere lie,
ye
As fuffereth me I may my tale telle.
This Frere bofteth that he knoweth helle,
And God it wot that is but litel wonder;
Freres and fendes ben but litel afonder.
For parde ye han often time herd telle
How that a frere raviſhed was to helle
In ſpirit ones by a viſioun,
And as an angel lad him up and doun,
To fhewen him the paines that ther were,
In all the place faw he not a frere :
Of other folk he faw ynow in wo.
Unto this angel fpake the frere tho;
Now Sire, quod he, han freres fwich a grace,
That non of hem fhall comen in this place?
Yes, quod this angel, many a millioun;
And unto Sathanas he lad him doun.
(And now hath Sathanas, faith he, a tayl
Broder than of a carrike is the fayl)
Hold up thy tayl, thou Sathanas, quod he,
Shew forth thin ers, and let the frere fee
Wher is the neft of freres in this place.
And ere than half a furlong way of ſpace,
Right fo as bees out ſwarmen of an hive,
Out of the devils ers ther gonnen drive
A twent thouſand freres on a route.
And thurghout hell they fwarmed al aboute,
And com agen, as faft as they may gon,
And in his ers they crepen everich on:
He clapt his tayl again, and lay ful ftill.
This frere, whan he loked, had his fill
Upon this turments of this fory place ;
His ſpirit God reftored of his grace
Into his body agen, and he awoke;
But nathlefs for fere yet he quake,
So was the devils ers ay in his mind,
That is his heretage of veray kind.
God fave you alle fave this curfed Frere;
My Prologue wol I end in this manere.
THE SOMPNOURES TALE*.
LORDINGS, there is in Yorkſhire, as I geffe,
A merfh contree ycalled Holderneffe,
in which ther went a limitour aboute,
To preach and eke to beg it is no doubte.
A begging friar coming to a farmer's houfe who lay
fick, obtaineth of the fick man a certain legacy which
muit be equally divided ainong his convent. A requital
to the friar, thewing their cozenage, loitering, impudent
Begging, and hypocritical praying.
And ſo befell that on a day this frere
Had preached at a chirche in his manere,
And ſpecially aboven every thing
Excited he the peple in his preching
To trentals, and to yeve, for Goddes fake,
Wherwith men mighten holy houſes make,
Ther as divine fervice is honoured,
Not ther as it is wafted and devoured,
4
THE SOMPNOURES TALE.
07
i
Ne ther it nedeth not for to be yeven,
As to poffeffioners, that niowen leven
(Thanked be God) in wele end abundance.
Trentalt, fayd he, deliveren fro pènance
Hir frendes foules as well old as yonge,
Ye, whan that they ben haftily yfonge,
Not for to hold a preeft jolif and gay,
He fingeth not but o maffe on a day.
Delivereth out (quod he) anon the foules.
Ful hard it is with flefhhook or with oules
To ben yclawed, or to bren or bake.
Now fpede you haftily for Criftes fake.
And whan this frere bad faid all his entent;
With qui cum patri forth his way he went.
Whan folk in chirche had yeve him what hem left
He went his way, no lenger wold he reſt.
With fcrippe and tipped ſtaf, ytucked hie,
In every hous he gan to pore and prie,
And begged mele and chefe, or elles corn.
His felaw had a ſtaf tipped with horn,
A pair of tables all of ivory,
And a pointel ypoliſhed fetifly,
And wrote alway the names, as he ſtood,
Of alle folk that yave hem any good,
Aikaunce that he woulde for hem preye.
Yeve us a bufhel whete, or malt or reye,
A Goddes kichel, or a trippe of chefe,
Or elles what you lift, we may not cheſe;
A Goddes halfpenny, or a maffe peny,
Or yeve us of your braun, if ye have any,
A dagon of your blanket, leve Dame,
Our fufter dere, (lo, here I write your name)
Bacon or beef, or fwiche thing as ye find.
A furdy harlot went hem ay behind,
That was her hoftes man, and bare a fakke,
And what men yave hem laid it on his bakke.
And whan that he was out at dore, anon
He planed away the names everich on
That he before had written in his tables;
He ferved hem with nifles and with fables.
Nay ther thou lieft, thou Sompnour, quod the
Frere.
Pees, quod our Hofte, for Criftes moder dere
Tell forth thy Tale, and fpare it not at all.
So thrive I, quod this Sompnour, fo I fhall.
So long he went fro hous to hous til he
Came to an hous ther he was wont to be
Refreſhed more than in a hundred places.
I ſaw you not this fourtene night and more.
God wot, quod he, laboured have I full fore,
And ſpecially for thy falvation
Have I fayd many a precious orifon,
And for our other frendes God hem bleffe.
I have this day ben at your chirche at meffe,
And ſaid a fermon to my fimple wit,
Not all after the text of holy writ;
For it is hard to you as I fuppofe,
And therefore wol I teche you ay the glofe,
Glofing is a ful glorious thing certain,
For letter fieth, fo as we clerkes fain;
There have I taught hem to be charitable,
And fpend hir good ther it is reafonable;
And ther I faw our dame; a! wher is he?
Yonder, I trow that in the yard fhe be,
Sayde this man, and the wol come arou.
Ey maifter, welcome be ye by Seint John,
Sayde this wif; how fare ye hertily?
This frere arifeth up ful curtify;
And hire embraceth in her armes narwe,
And kiffeth hire fwete, and chirketh as a ſparwe
With his lippes. Dame, quod he, right wel,
As he that is your forvant every del.
Thanked be God that you yaf foule and lif
Yet faw I not this day fo faire a wif
In all the chirche, God to fave me.
Ye God amende defantes, Sire, quod fhe,
Algates welcome be ye, by my fay.
Grand mercy, Dame, that have I found alway.
But of your grete goodneſſe, be your leve,
I wolde pray you that ye not you greve,
I wol with Thomas fpeke a litel throw,
Thife curates ben fo negligent aud flow
To gropen tenderly a confcience.
In fhrift, in preching, is my diligence
And ſtudy, in Peters wordes and in Poules;
I walke and fisfhe Criften mennes foules,
To yield our Lord Jefu his propre rent;
To fpred his word is fet all mine entent.
Now by your faith, o dere Sire ! quod fhe,
Chideth him wel for Seinte Charitee:
He is ay angry as is a piffemire,
Though that he have all that he can defire :
Though I him wrie a-night, and make him warm
And over him lay my leg and cke mine arni,
He groneth as our bore lith in our ftie:
Other difport of him right non have I ;
Sike lay the huſbond man whos that the place I may not pleaſe him in no maner cas.
is;
Bedred upon a couche low he lay.
Deus bic, quod he; O Thomas! frend, good day,
Sayde this frere all curtifly and ſoft.
Thomas, quod he, God yelde it you, ful oft
Have I upon this benche faren ful wele,
Here have I eten many a mery mele.
And fro the benche he drove away the cat,
And laied adoun his potent and his hat,
And eke his fcrip, and fet himſelf adoun :
His felaw was ywalked into toun,
Forth with his knave, into that hoſtelrie
Wher as he hope him thilke night to lie.
O dere maister! quod this filke man,
How have ye faren fin that March began ?
O Thomas, jeo vous die, Thomas, Thomas !
This maketh the fend, this mufte ben amended.
Ire is a thing that high God hath defended,
And therof wol I fpeke a word or two.
Now maifter, quod the wif, er that I go,
What wol ye dine? I wel go theraboute.
Now Dame, quod he, jeo vous die fàanz doute,
Have I not of a capon but the liver,
And of your white bred nat but a hiver,
And after that a rofted pigges hed,
(But I ne wolde for me no best were ded)
Ihan had I with you homly fuffifance;
I am a man of little fuitenance;
My ſpirit hath his foftring in the Bible;
My body is ay fo ready and fo penible
>
68
THE SOMPNOURES TALE.
go.
To waken, that my ſtomak is deftroied.
I pray you, Dame, that ye be nought annoied,
Though I fo frendly you my confeil fhewe;
By God I n'old have told it but a fewe.
Now Sire, quod fhe, but o word er I
My child is ded within theſe wekes two,
Sone after that ye went out of this toun.
His deth faw I by revelatioun,
Sayde this frere, at home in our dortour.
I dare wel fain that er than half an hour
After his deth I faw him borne to bliffe
La mine avifion, fo God me wiffe;
So did our fextein and our fermerere,
That han ben trewe freres fifty yere*;
They may now, God be thanked of his lone,
Maken hir jubilee, and walke alone.
And up I arofe, and all our covent eke,
With many a tere trilling on our cheke,
Withouten noiſe, or clattering of belles,
Te deum was our fong, and nothing elles,
Save that to Crift I bade an oriſon,
Thanking him of my revelation.
For, Sire and Dame, trufteth me right wel
Our orifons ben more effectuel,
And more we feen of Criftes fecret thinges,
Than borel folk, although that they be kinges.
We live in poverte and in abftinence,
And borel folk in richeffe and difpence
Of mete and drinke, and in her foule defit:
We han this worldes luft all in deſpit.
Lazar and Dives lividen diverfely,
And divers guerdon hadden they therby.
Who fo wol pray, he muft faft and be clene,
And fat his foule and make his body lene.
We fare as fayth the apofile; cloth and food
Sufficeth us, though they be not ful good.
The cleneneffe and the fafting of us freres
Maketh that Crift accepteth our praieres.
Lo, Moifes forty daies and forty night
Fafted er that the high God ful of might
Spake with him in the mountagne of Sinay:
With empty wombe of fafting many a day
Received he the lawe that was writen
With Goddes inger; and Eli, wel ye witen,
In Mount Orch, er he had any fpeche
With high Gd, that is our lives leche,
He fafted long, and was in contemplance.
Aaron, that had the temple in governance,
And eke the other preeftes everich on,
Into the temple whan they fhulden gon
To praien for the peple, and do fervife,
'They n'olden drinken in no maner wife
No drinke which that might hem dronken make,
But ther in abftinence pray and wake
Left that they deiden. Take heed what I fay-
But they be fobre that for the peple pray-
Ware that I fay-No more; for it fufficeth.
Our Lord Jefu, as holy writ devifeth,
Yave us enſample of faſting and praieres;
Therfore we mendiants, we fely freres,
* Sce Du Cange, in v. Sempedae. Peculiar honours and
immunities were grantedby the rule of St. Benedic to thofe
monks qui quinquaginta annos in ordine exegerant.
quos annum jubilacum exegiffe vulgo dicimus." It is
probable that fome fimilar regulation obtained in the other
orders.
Ben wedded to poverte and continence,
To charitee, humbleffe, and abftinence,
To perfecution for rightwifneffe,
To weping, mifericorde, and to cleneneſſe;
And therfore may ye fee that our praieres
(I fpeke of us, we mendiants, we freres)
Ben to the highe God more acceptable
Than youres, with your feftes at your table.
Fro Paradis firft, if I fhal not lie,
Was man outchafed for his glotonie;
And chaft was man in Paradis certain.
But herken now, Thomas, what I ſhal ſain :
I have no text of it as I fuppofe,
But I fhal find it in a maner glofe;
That fpecially our fwete Lord Jefus
Spake this by freres whan he fayde thus,
Bleffed be they that poure in ſpirit ben;
And fo forth all the gofpef may ye fen,
Whether it be liker our profeffion
Or hirs that ſwimmen in poffeffion.
Fie on hir pompe, and on hir glotonie,
And on hir lewedneffe! I hem defie.
Me thinketh they ben like Jovinian,
Fat as a whale, and walken as a fwan;
Al vinolent as botel in the fpence;
Hir praier is of ful gret reverence:
Whan they for foules fay the Pfalm of Davit,
Lo, buf they fay,Cor meum eru&avit.
Who foloweth Criftes gofpel and his lore
But we,
that humble ben, and chaft and pore,
Workers of Goddes word, not auditors?
Therfore right as an hauke upon a fours
Up fpringeth into the aire, right fo praires
Of charitable and chaft befy freres
Maken hir fours to Goddes cres two.
Thomas, Thomas! fo mote I ride or go,
And by that lord that cleped is Seint Ive,
N'ere thou our broder fhuldeſt thou not thrive.
In our chapitre pray we day and night
To Crift, that he thee fende hele and might
Thy body for to welden haftily.
God wot, quod he, nothing thereof fel I.
As help me Crift, as I in fewe yeres
Have fpended upon divers maner freres
Ful many a pound, yet fare I never the bet;
Certain my good have I almost befet:
Farewel my good, for it is al ago.
The frere anfwered, O Thomas! doft thou fo?
What nedeth you diverfe freres to feche?
What nedeth him that hath a parfit leche
To fechen other leches in the toun?
Your inconftance is your confuſion.
Hold ye than me, or elles our covent,
To pray for you ben infufficient?
Thomas, that jape n'is not worth a mite;
Your maladie is for we han to lite.
A! yeve that covent half a quarter otes,
And yeve that covent four-and-twenty grotes
And yeve that frere a peny and let him go:
Nay, nay, Thomas, it may no thing be fo.
What is a ferthing worth parted on twelve?
Lo, eche thing that is oned in himſelve
Is more ſtrong than whan it is yfcatered.
Thomas, of me thou shalt not be yflatered,
THE SOMPNOURES TALE.
أنا
Thou woldeft han our labour al for nought,
The highe God, that all this world hath wrought,
Saith that the workman worthy is his hire.
Thomas, nought of your trefor I defire
As for myſelf, but that all our covent
To pray for you is ay fo diligent,
And for to bilden Criftes owen chirche.
Thomas, if ye wol lernen for to wirche,
Of bilding up of chirches may ye finde
If it be good in Thomas lif of Inde.
Ye liggen here ful of anger and of ire,
With which the devil fet your herte on fire,
And chiden here this holy innocent,
Your wif, that is fo good and patient;
And therfore trow me, Thomas, if thee left,
Ne ſtrive not with thy wif, as for the beſt.
And bere this word away now by thy faith,
Touching fwiche thing, lo, what the wife faith:
Within thy hous ne be thou no leon,
To thy fuggets do non oppreffion,
Ne make thou not thin acquaintance to flee.
And yet, Thomas, eftfones charge I thee,
Beware from ire that in thy bofom flepeth;
Ware fro the ſerpent that fo flily crepeth
Under the gras, and ftingeth fubtilly:
Beware, my fone, and herken patiently,
That twenty thoufand men han loft hir lives
For ſtriving with hir lemmans and her wives.
Now fith ye han fo holy and meek a wif,
What nedeth you, Thomas, to maken ſtrif?
Ther n'is ywis no ferpent ſo cruel,
Whan man tredeth on his tail, ne half fo fel,
As woman is whan fhe hath caught an ire;
Veray vengeance is than all hire defire,
Ire is a finne on of the grete feven,
Abhominable unto the God of heven,
And to himſelf it is deſtruction:
This every lewed vicar and perfon
Can fay how ire engendrech homicide:
Ire is in foth executour of pride.
I coud of ire fay fo mochel forwe
My Tale fhulde laſten til to-morwe;
And therfore pray I God both day and night
An irous man God fend him litel might.
It is gret harm, and certes gret pitee,
To fette an irous man in high degree.
Whilom ther was an irous poteftat,
As faith Senek, that during his eſtat
Upon a day outriden knightes two;
And, as Fortune wold that it were fo,
That on of hem came home, that other nought.
Anon the knight before the judge is brought,
That faide thus; Thou haft thy felaw flain,
For which I deme thee to the deth certain,
And to another knight commanded he,
Go, lede him to the deth, I charge thee.
And happed as they wenten by the wey
Toward the place ther as he fhulde dey,
The knight came which men wenden had be ded:
Than thoughten they it was the befte rede
To lede hem both to the juge again.
They faiden, Lord, the knight ne hath not flain
His felaw, here he ftondeth hol alive.
Ye full be ded, quod he, fo mot I thrive,
That is to fay, both on, and two, and three.
And to the firſte knight right thus fpake he.
I damned thee, thou muſt algate be ded;
And thou alſo muſt nedes lefe thyn hed,
For thou art cauſe why thy felaw deyeth;
And to the thridde knight right thus he feyeth,
Thou haft not don that I commanded thee.
And thus he did do flen hem alle threc.
Irous Cambifes was eke dronkelew,
And ay delighted him to ben a fhrew :
And ſo befell a lord of his meinie,
That loved vertuous moralitee,
Sayd on a day betwix hem two right thus;
A lord is loft if he be vicious;
And dronkenneffe is eke a foule record
Of any man, and namely of a lord.
'Ther is ful many an eye and many an ere
Awaiting on a lord, and he n'ot wher.
For Goddes love drink more attemprely:
Win maketh man to lefen wretchedly
His mind, and eke his limmes everich on.
The revers fhalt thou fee, quod he, anon,
And preve it by thyn owen experience
Than win ne doth to folk no fwiche offence.
Ther is no win bereveth me my might
Of hond, ne foot, ne of myn eyen fight.
And for deſpit he dranke mochel more
An hundred part than he had don before,
And right anon this curfed irous wretche
This knightes fone let before him fetche,
Commanding him he ſhuld before him ſtond;
And fodenly he took his bow in hond,
And up the ftring he pulled to his ere,
And with an arwe he flow the child right ther.
Now whether have I a fiker hond or non?
Quod he; is al my might and mind agon?
Hath win bereved me min eyen fight?
What fhuld I tell the anfwer of the knight?
His fon was flain, ther is no more to ſay.
Beth ware therfore with lordes for to play,
Singeth Placebo, and I fhal if I can,
But if it be unto a poure man:
To a poure man men fhuld his vices telle,
But not to a lord, though he ſhuld go to helle,
Lo, irous Cirus, thilke Perfien,
How he deſtroyed the river of Gifen,
For that an hors of his was dreint therin,
Whan that he wente Babilon to win :
He made that the river was fo fmal,
That wimmen might it waden over al.
Lo, what faid he, that fo wel techen can ?
Ne be no felaw to non irous man,
Ne with no wood man walke by the way,
Left thee repent; I wol no forther fay.
Now Thomas, leve brother, leve thin ire,
Thou shalt me find as juſt as is a fquire:
Hold not the devils knif ay to thin herte,
Thin anger doth thee all to fore ſmerte;
But fhew to me all thy confeffion,
Nay, quod the fick man, by Seint Simon
I have ben fhriven this day of my curat;
I have him told al holly min eſtat.
Nedeth no mo to fpeke of it, fayth hẹ,
But if me lift of min humilitec,
E iij
THE SOMPNOURES TALE.'
1
Yeve me than of thy gold to make our cloiftre,
Quod he, for many a muïcle and many an oiftre,
Whan other men han ben ful wel at cfe,
Hath ben our food, our cloiftre for to refe;
And yet, God wot, unneth the fundament
Parlourmed is, ne of our pavement
N'is not a tile yet within our wones :
By God we owen fourty pound for ftones.
Now help, Thomas, for him that haṛwed helle,
For elles mote we our bokes felle,
And if ye lack our predication,
Than goth this world all to deftruction;
For who fo fro this world wold us bereve,
So God me fave, Thomas, by your leve
He wold bereve out of this world the fonne ;
For who can teche and worken as we conne?
And that is not of litel time (quod he)
But fithen Elie was and Elifee
Han freres ben, that find I of record,
In charitee, ythonked be our 1 ord.
Now Thomas, help for Seinte Charitee.
And doun anon he fette him on his knee.
This fike man wexe wel neigh wood for ire;
He wolde that the frere had ben a-fire
With his falfe diffimulation.
Swiche thing as is in my poffeffion,
Quod he, that may 1 yeve you, and non other.
Ye fain me thus, how that I am your brother.
Ye certes, quod this frere, ye truſteth wel;
I took our dame the letter of our fele.
Now wel, quod he, and fomwhat ſhal I yeve
Unto your holy covent while I live;
And in thin hond thou fhalt it have anon,
On this condition, and other non,
That thou depart it fo, my dere brother,
That every frere have as moche as other :
This halt thou fwere on thy profeffion
Withouten fraud or cavilation.
I fwere it, quod the frere, upon my faith;
And therwithal his hond in his he layth.
Lo here my faith; in me fhal be no lak.
Than put thin hond adoun right by my bak,
Saide this man, and grope wel behind
Benethe my buttok, ther thou fhalte find
A thing that I have hid in privetee.
A! thought this frere, that fal go with me;
And doun his hond he launcheth to the clifte,
In hope for to finden ther a gifte.
And whan this fike man felt this frere
About his towel gropen ther and here,
Amid his hond he let the frere a fart ;
T'her n'is no capel drawing in a cart
That might han let a fart of fwiche a foun.
The frere up fterte as doth a wood leoun :
A! falfe cherl, quod he, for Goddes bones,
This haft thou in defpit don for the nones:
Thou shalt abie this fart if that I may.
His meinie, which that herden this affray,
Came leping in, and chafed out the frere,
And forth he goth with a ful angry chere,
And fet his felaw ther as lay his flore:
He loked as it were wilde bore,
And grinte with his teeth, fo was he wroth.
Afturdy pas doun to the court he goth,
Wher as ther woned a man of gret honoar,
To whom that he was alway confeffour:
'This worthy man was lord of that village,
This frere came, as he were in a rage.
Wher as this lord fat eting at his bord:
Unnethes might the frere fpeke a word,
Til atte lafte he faide, God you fee!
This lord gan loke, and ſaid, Benedicite!
What? Frere John, what maner world is this?
I fee wel that fom thing ther is amis;
Ye loken as the wood were ful of theves.
Sit doun anon, and tell me what your greve is,
And it fhal ben amended if I may.
I have, quod he, had a deſpit to day,
God yelde you, adoun in your village,
That in this world ther n'is fo poure a page
That he n'olde have abhominatioun
Of that I have received in youre toun;
And yet ne greveth me nothing fo fore
As that the olde cherl with lokkes bore
Blafphemed hath oure holy covent eke.
Now mafter, quod this lord, I you beſcke.
No maifter, Sire, quod he, but fervitour,
Though I have had in fcole that honour.
God liketh not that man us Rabi call
Neither in market ne in your large hall.
No force, quod he, but tell me all your grefe.
Sire, quod this frere, an odious mifchefe
This day betid is to min ordre and me,
And ſo per confequens to eche degree
Of holy chirche, God amenée it fone.
Sire, quod the lord, ye wot what is to don;
Diftempre you not, ye ben my confeffour;
Ye ben the falt of the erthe and the favour:
For Goddes love your patience now hold;
Telle me your grefe. And he anon him told
han herd before, ye wot wel what.
The lady of the hous ay ftille fat
As ye
Til fhe had herde what the frere feid.
Ey, Goddes moder, quod fhe, blisful maid!
Is ther ought elles? tell me faithfully.
Madame, quod he, how thinketh you therby?
How that me thinketh? quod fhe; fo God me fpedea
I fay a cherle had don a cherles dede.
What fhuld I fay? God let him never the;
His fike hed is ful of vanitee:
I hold him in a maner frenefie,
Madame, quod he, by God I fhal not lie,
But I in other wife may ben awreke;
I fhal diffame him over all ther I fpeke;
This falfe blafphemour, that charged me
To parten that wol not departed be
To every man ylike, with mefchance.
The lord fat ftille as he were in a trance,
And in his herte he rolled up and doun
How had this cherl imaginatioun
To fhewen fwiche a probleme to the frere,
Never erft or now ne herd I ſwiche matere
I trow the devil put it in his mind.
In all arfmetrike fhal ther no man find
Beforn this day of fwiche a queftion.
Who fhulde make a demonftration
That every man fhuld han ylike his part
As of a foun or favour of a fart ?
THE SOMPNOURES TALE.
On ice proude cherl! I fhrewe his face.
Lo, Sires, quod the lord, with harde grace,
Who ever herd of ſwiche a thing or now?
To every man ylike! tell me how.
It is an impoffible, it may not be:
Ey, nice cherl! God let him never the.
The rombling of a fart, and every foun,
N'is but of aire reverberatioun,
And ever it waſteth lite and lite away;
Ther n'is no man can demen, by my fay,
If that it were departed equally.
What? lo my cherl, lo yet how fhrewedly
Unto my conf:ffour to-day he ſpake!
I hold him certain a demoniake.
Now ete your mete, and let the cherl go play;
Let him go honge himſelf a devil way.
Now ftood the lordes fquier atte bord
That carf his metc, and herde word by word
Of all this thing of which I have you fayd,
My Lord, quod he, be ye not evil apaid;
I coude telle for a goune-cloth
To you, Sire Frere, fo that ye be not wroth,
How that this fart fhuld even ydeled be
Amonge your covent, if it liked thee.
Tell, quod the lord, and thou fhalt have anon
A goune-cloth, by God and by Seint John.
My Lord, quod he, whan that the weder is
Withouten winde or pertourbing of aire, [faire,
Let bring a cart-whele here into this hall,
But loke that it have his fpokes all;
Twelf ſpokes hath a cart-whele communly
And bring me than twelf freres, wete ye why?
For threttene is a covent as I geffe:
Your confeffour here for his worthineſſe
Shal parfourme up the noumbre of his covent.
Than fhull they knele adoun by on affent,
And to every fpokes end in this manere
Ful fadly lay his nofe fhal a frere;
Your noble confeffour, ther God him ſave,
Shal hold his noſe upright under the nave,
Than fhal this cherl, with bely ſtif and tought
As any tabour, hider ben ybrought;
And fet him on the whele right of this cart
Upon the nave, and make him let a fart,
And ye fhull feen, up peril of my lif,
By veray preef that is demonftratif,
That equally the foun of it wol wende,
And eke the ſtinke, unto the ſpokes ende,
Save that this worthy man, your confeffour,
(Becauſe he is a man of gret honour)
Shal han the firfte fruit, as refon is.
The noble uſage of freres yet it is
The worthy men of hem fhul firſt be ſerved,
And certainly he hath it wel deſerved;
He hath to-day taught us fo mochel good,
With preching in the pulpit ther he ſtood,
That I may vouchefaf, I fay for me,
He hadde the firfte fmel of fartes three,
And fo wold all his brethren hardely,
He bereth him fo faire and holyly.
[frere,
The lord, the lady, and eche man, fave the
Sayden that Jankin ſpake in this matere
As wel as Euclide or elles Ptholomee.
Touching the cherl they faydan, Subtiltee
And highe wit made him fpeken as he ſpake;
He n'is no fool ne no demoniake.
And Jankin hath ywonne a new goune.
My Tale is don; we ben almoſt at toune,
E iiij
1
:
ya
THE CLERKES PROLOGUE
THE CLERKES PROLOGUE.
SIRE Clerk of Oxenforde, our Hofte ſaid,
Ye ride as ftille and coy as doth a maid
Were newe ſpouſed, fitting at the bord;
This day ne herd I of your tonge a word.
I trow ye ftudie abouten fom fophime;
But Salomon faith that every thing hath time.
For Goddes fake as beth of better cherc,
It is no time for to ftudein here.
Tell us fom mery Tale by your fay;
For what man that is entred in a play
He nedes moft unto the play affent.
But precheth not, as freres don in Lent,
To make us for our olde finnes wepe,
Ne that thy Tale make us not to flepe.
Tell us fom mery thing of aventures;
Your termes, your coloures, and your figures,
Kepe hem in ſtore til fo be ye endite
Hie ftile, as whan that men to kinges write.
Speketh fo plain at this time, I you pray,
That we may underſtonden what ye fay.
This worthy Clerk benignely anſwerde;
Hofte, quod he, I am under your yerde,
Ye have of us now the governance,
And therefore wolde I do you obeyfance,
As fer as refon aſketh hardely :
I wol you tell a Tale which that I
Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk,
As preved by his wordes and his werk:
He is now ded and nailed in his chefte,
I pray to God fo yeve his foule reſte.
Fraunceis Petrark, the Laureat poete,
Highte this clerk, whos rethorike fwete
Enlumined all Itaille of poetrie,
As Lynyan § did of philofophie
Or law, or other art particulere;
But Deth that wol not fuffre us dwellen here,
But as it were a twinkling of an eye,
Hem both hath flaine, and alle we fhul dye.
But forth to tellen of this worthy man
That taughte me this Tale as I began,
I fay that firft he with highe ftile enditeth
(Or he the body of his Tale writeth)
A proheme, in the which defcriveth he
Piemont, and of Saluces the contree,
And fpeketh of Apennin the hilles hie,
That ben the boundes of weft Lumbardie,
And of Mount Vefulus in fpecial,
Wher as the Poo out of a welle fmal
Taketh his firfte fpringing and his fours,
That eftward ay encrefeth in his cours
To Emelie ward, to Ferare and Venife,
The which a longe thing were to devife;
And trewely, as to my jugement,
Me thinketh it a thing impertinent,
Save that he wol, conveyen his matere:
But this is the Tale which that ye mow here.
§ Or Linian, The perfon meant was an eminent lawyer
and made a great noiſe (as we ſay) in his time.
THE CLERKES TALE.
73
f
THE CLERKES TALE.
THER is right at the weft fide of Itaille,
Doun at the rote of Vefulus the cold,
A lufty plain habundant of vitaille,
Ther many a toun and tour thou maiſt behold,
That founded were in time of fathers old,>
And many another delitable fighte,
And Saluces this noble contree highte,
A markis whilom lord was of that lot.d
As were his worthy elders him before,
And obeyfant, ay redy to his hond,
Were all his lieges both leffe and more:
Thus in delit he liveth, and hath don yore,
Beloved and drad, thurgh favour of Fortune,
Both of his lordes and cf his commune.
Therwith he was, to fpeken of linage,
The gentilett yborne of Lumbardie,
A faire perfon, and ftrong, and yong of age,
And ful of honour and of curtefie;
Diteret ynough, his contree for to gie,
Sauf in fome thinges that he was to blame,
And Walter was this yonge lordes name.
I biarse him thus, that he confidered nought
In time coming what might him betide,
But on his luit prefent was all his thought,
And for to hauke and hunt on every fide;
Wel neigh all other cures let he flide;
And eke he nol'd (and that was worſt of all)
Wedden no wif for ought that might befall
Only that point his peple bare fo fore
That flockmel on a day to him they went,
And on of hem, that wifeft was of lore,
(Or elles that the lord wold beft affent
That he fhuld tell hem what the peple ment,
Or elles could he wel fhew fwiche matere)
He to the markis faid as ye fhull here.
O noble Markis, your humanitee
Affureth us and yveth us hardineffe,
As oft as time is of neceffitee
That we to you mow tell our hevineffe;
Accepteth, Lord, than of your gentilleſſe
That we with pitious herte unto you plaine,
And let your eres nat my vois difdaine.
Al have I not to don in this matere
More than another man hath in this place,
Yet for as moch as ye, my Lord fo dere,
Han alway fhewed me favour and grace,
I dare the better afke of you a space
Of audience to fhewen our requeſt,
Andye, my Lord, to don right as you left.
For certes, Lord, fo wel us liketh you
And all your werke, and ever hath don, that we
Ne couden not ourſelf deviſen how
We mighten live in more felicitee,
Save o thing, Lord, if it your wille be
That for to be a wedded man you left
Than were your peple in foverain hertes reſt.
Boweth your nekke under the bliſsful yok
Of foveraintee, and not of ferviſe,
Which that men clepen Spouſaile or Wedlok :
And thinketh, Lord, among your thoghtes wife,
How that our days paffe in fondry wife;
For though we flepe, or wake, or rome, or ride,
Ay fleth the time, it wol no man abide.
And though your grene youthe floure as yet,
In crepeth age alway as ſtill as ſton,
And deth manaſeth every age, and fmit
In eche eftat, for ther eſcapeth non:
And al fo certain as we knowe eche on
That we fhul die, as uncertain we all
Ben of that day whan deth fhal on us fall.
Accepteth than of us the trewe cntent,
That never yet refufeden your heft,
And we wol, Lord, if that you wol affent,
Chefe you a wife in ſhort time at the meſt
Borne of the gentilleft and of the beſt
Of all this lond, fo that it oughte feme
Honour to God and you as we can deme.
Deliver us out of all this befy drede,
And take a wif for highe Goddes fake;
For if it fo befell, as God forbede,
That thurgh your deth your linage fhulde flake,
And that a strange fucceffour ſhuld take
Your heritage, o! wo were us on live;
Wherfore we pray you haftily to wive.
Hir meke praiere and hir pitous chere
Made the markis for to han pitee.
Ye wol, quod he, min owen peple dere,
To that I never er thought conſtrainen me:
I me rejoyced of my libertee,
That felden time is found in mariage;
Ther I was free I mofte ben in fervage.
But natheles I fee your trewe entent,
And truft upon your wit, and have don ay;
Wherfore of my free will I wol affent
To wedden me as fone as ever I may :
But ther as ye han profred me to-day
To chefen we a wif, I you releſe
That chois, and pray you of that profer cefe.
74
THE CLERKES TALE.
For God it wot that children often ben
Unlike hir worthy eldres hem before:
Bountee cometh al of God, not of the ftren
Of which they ben ygendred and ybore:
I truft in Goddes bountee, and therfore
My mariage, and min eftat and reft,
I him betake; he may don as him left.
Let me alone in chefing of my wif;
That charge upon my bak I wol endure
But I you pray and charge upon your lif
That what wif that I take ye me affure
To worship hire, while that hire lif may dure,
In word and werk both here and elles where,
As fhe an emperoures doughter were.
And forthermore this fhuln ye fwere, that ye
Again my chois fhal never grutch ne ftrive;
For fith I fhal forgo my libertée
At your requeſt, as ever mote I thrive
Ther as min herte is fet ther wol I wive :
And but ye wol affent in fwiche manere
I pray you ſpeke no more of this matere.
With hertly will they fworen and affenten
To all this thing, ther faide not o wight nay,
Befeching him of grace, or that they wenten,
That he wold granten hem a certain day
Of his fpoufaile as fone as ever he may,
For yet alway the peple fomewhat dred
Left that this markis wolde no wif wed.
He granted hem a day, fwiche as him left,
On which he wold be wedded fikerly,
And faid he did all this at hir requeft;
And they with humble herte ful buxumly,
Kaeling upon hir knees ful reverently,
Him thonken all: and thus they han an end
Of hir entente, and home agen they wend.
And hereupon he to his officeres
Commandeth for the fefte to purvay,
And to his privee knightes and fquieres
Swiche charge he yave as hem lift on hem lay,
And they to his commandement obey,
And eche of hem doth all his diligence
To do unto the feſte al reverence.
Pars fecunda.
Nought fer fro thilke paleis honourable,
Wher as this markis fhope his mariage,
Ther ſtood a thorpe, of fighte delitable,
In which that poure folk of that village
Hadden hir beſtes and hir herbergage,
And of hir labour toke hir fuftenance,
After that the erthe yave hem habundance.
Among this poure folk ther dwelt a man
Which that was holden poureft of hem all,
But highe God fomtime fenden can
His grace unto a litel oxes ftall;
Janicola men of that thorpe him call :
A doughter had he, faire ynough to fight,
And Grifildis this yonge maiden hight.
But for to fpeke of vertuous beautee,
Than was fhe on the faireft under ſonne.
Tu! pourely yfoftred up was fhe;
No likerous luft was in hire herte yronne :
Wel ofter of the well than of the tonne
She dranke; and for fhe wolde vertue pleſe
She knew wel labour but non idel eſe.
But though this mayden tendre were of age,
Yet in the breft of hire virginitee
Ther was encloſed fad and ripe corage,
And in gret reverence and charitee
Hire olde poure fader foftred the :
A few fheep fpinning on the feld fhe kept;.
She wolde not ben idel til fhe flept.
And whan the homward came fhe wolde bring
Wortes and other herbes times oft,
The which fhe fhred and fethe for hire living,
And made hire bed ful hard and nothing foft;
And ay fhe kept hire fadres lif on loft
With every obeifance and diligence
That child may don to fadres reverence.
Upon Grifilde, this poure creature,
Ful often fithe this markis fette his eye,
As he on hunting rode paraventure;
And whan it fell that he might hire efpie,
He not with wanton loking of folie
His eyen caft on hire, but in fad wife
Upon hire chere he wold him oft aviſe;
Commending in his herte hire womanhede,
And eke hire vertue, paffing any wight
Of fo yong age as wel in chere as dede:
For though the peple have no gret in fight
In vertue, he confidered ful right
Hire bountee, and difpofed that he wold
Wedde hire only if ever he wedden fhold.
The day of wedding came, but no wight can
Tellen what woman that it fhulde be,
For which marvaille wondred many a man,
And faiden, whan they were in privetee,
Wol not our lord yet leve his vanitee?
Wol he not wedde? Alas, alas the while!
Why wol he thus himſelf and us begile?
But natheles this markis hath do make
Of gemmes fette in gold and in aſure
Broches and ringes, for Grifildes fake;
And of hire clothing toke he the meſure
Of a maiden like unto hire ftature,
And eke of other ornamentes all
That unto fwiche a wedding fhulde fall.
The time of underne of the fame day
Approcheth that this wedding fhulde be,
And all the paleis put was in array,
Both halle and chambres, eche in his degree,
Houſes of office ftuffed with plentee ;
Ther mayft thou fee of deinteous vitaille
That may be found as fer as lafteth Itaille.
This real markis richely arraide,
Lordes and ladies in his compagnie,
The which unto the fefte weren praide,
And of his retenue the bachelerie,
With many a foun of fondry melodie,
Unto the village of the which I told
In this array the righte way they hold.
Grifilde of this (God wot) ful innocent
That for hire fhapen was all this array,
To fetchen water at a welle is went,
And cometh home as fone as ever fhe may;
For wel fhe had herd fay that thilke day
The markis fhulde wedde, and if ſhe might
She wolde fayn han feen fom of that fight.
She thought I wol with other maidens ftond,
That ben my felawes, in our dore, and ſec
The markifeffe, and therto wol I fond
THE
73
CLERKES TALE.
To don at home, as fone as it may be,
The labour which that longeth unto me,
And than I may at leifer hire behold,
If the this way unto the Caftel hold.
And as fhe wolde over the threſwold gon
The markis came and gan hire for to call,
And ſhe fet doun hire water-pot anon
Befide the threfwold in an oxes ftall,
And doun upon hire knees fhe gan to fall,
And with fad countenance kneleth ftill,
'Til fhe had herd what was the lordes will.
This thoughtful markis fpake unto this maid
Ful foberly, and ſaid in this manere;
Wher is your fader, Grifildis? he faid.
And fhe with reverence in humble chere
Anſwered, Lord, he is al redy here.
And in ſhe goth withouten lenger lette,
And to the markis fhe hire fader fette.
He by the hond than toke this poure man,
And faide thus whan he him had afide
;
Janicola, I neither may ne can
Lenger the plefance of min herte hide;
If that thou vouchefauf, what ſo betide,
Thy doughter wol I take or that I wend
As for my wif unto hire lives end.
Thou loveft me, that wot I wel certain,
And art my faithful liegeman ybore,
And all that liketh me, I dare wel fain,
It liketh thee, and ſpecially therfore
Tell me that point that I have faid before,
If that thou wolt unto this purpos drawe,
To taken me as for thy fon in lawe?
This foden cas this man aftoned ſo,
That red he wex, abaift, and al quaking
He ftood; unnethes faid he wordes mo
But only thus; Lord, quod he, my willing
Is as ye wol, ne ageins your liking
I wol no thing, min owen Lord fo dere;
Right as you lift governeth this matere.
Than wol I, quod this markis foftely,
That in thy chambre I, and thou, and ſhe,
Have a collation; and woft thou why?
For I wol afk hire if it hire wille be
To be my wif, and reule hire after me?
And all this fhal be don in thy prefence;
I wol not fpeke out of thin audience.
And in the chambre, while they were aboute
The tretee, which as ye fhul after here,
The peple came into the hous withoute,
And wondred hem in how honeft manere
Ententifly fhe kept hire fader dere:
But utterly Grifildis wonder might,
For never erft ne ſaw the fwiche a fight.
No wonder is though that fhe be aftoned
To fee fo gret a geft come in that place,
She never was to non fwiche geftes woned,
For which the loked with ful pale face.
But fhortly forth this matere for to chace,
Thife arn the wordes that the markis faid
To this benigne veray faithful maid.
Grifilde, he faid, ye fhuln wel underſtond
It liketh to your fader and to me
That I you wedde, and cke it may fo ftond,
As I fuppofe, ye wol that it fo be:
But thiſe demaundes aſke I firſt (quod he)
That fin it fhall be don in hafty wife,
Wol
ye affent, or elles you avife?
I ſay this, be ye redy with good herte
To all my luft, and that I freely may,
As me beſt thinketh, do you laugh or fmerte,
And never ye to grutchen, night ne day,
And eke whan I fay Ya ye fay Nay,
Neither by word ne frouning countenance?
Swere this, and here I fwere our alliance,
Wondring upon this thing, quaking for drede,
She faide, Lorde, indigne and unworthy
Am I to thilke honour that ye me bede,
But as ye wol yourſelf, right fo wol I:
And here I fwere that never willingly
In werk ne thought I n'ill you diſobeie
For to be ded, though me were loth to deie.
This is ynough, Grifilde min, quod he.
And forth he goeth with a ful fobre chère
Out at the dore, and after than came fhe,
And to the peple he faid in this manere ;
This is my wif, quod he, that ſtondeth here;
Honoureth her, and loveth hire, I pray,
Who fo me loveth; ther n'is no more to fay.
And for that nothing of hire olde gere
She fhulde bring into his hous, he bad
That women fhuld defpoilen hire right there,
Of which thiſe ladies weren nothing glad
To handle hire clothes wherin fhe was clad :
But natheles this maiden bright of hew
Fro foot to hed they clothed han all new.
Hire heres han they kempt, that lay untreffed
Ful rudely, and with hir fingres ſmal
A coroune on hire hed they han ydreffed,
And fette hire ful of nouches gret and fmal.
Of hire array what ſhuld I make a tale ?
Unneth the peple hire knew for hire fairneſſe
Whan the tranfmewed was in fwiche richeffe.
This markis bath hire fpoufed with a ring
Brought for the fame caufe, and than hire fette
Upon an hors fnow-white and wel ambling,
And to his paleis, or be lenger lette,
(With joyful peple that hire lad and mette)
Conveyed hire; and thus the day they ſpende
In revel til the fonne gan defcende.
And fhortly forth this tale for to chace,
I ſay that to this new markifeffe
God hath fwiche favour fent hire of his grace,
That it ne femeth not by likelineffe
That fhe was borne and fed in rudeneffe,
As in a cote or in an oxes ftall,
But nouriſhed in an emperoures hall.
To every wight fhe waxen is fo dere
And worshipful, that folk ther fhe was bore,
And fro hire birthe knew hire yere by yere,
Unnethes trowed they, but dorft han fwore
That to Janicle, of which I fpake before,
She doughter n'as; for as by conje&ure
Hem thoughte fhe was another creature.
For though that ever vertuous was the,
She was encrefed in fwiche excellence
Of thewes good, yſet in high bountee,
And fo difcrete, and faire of eloquence,
So benigne, and fo digne of reverence,
And coude fo the peples herte embrace,
That eche hire loveth that loketh on hire face.
:
76
THE CLERKES TALE.
Not only of Saluces in the toun
Published was the bountee of hire name,
But eke befide in many a regioun;
If on faith wel, another faith the fame :
So fpredeth of hire hie bountee the fame,
That men and women, yong as wel as old,
Gon to Saluces upon hire to behold.
Thus Walter lowly, nay but really,
Wedded with fortunat honeftee,
In Goddes pees liveth ful efily
At home, and grace ynough outward had he :
And for he faw that under low degree
Was honeft vertu hid, the peple him held
A prudent man, and that is feen ful feld.
Not only this Grifildis thurgh hire wit
Coude all the fete of wifly homlineffe ;
But eke whan that the cas required it,
The comune profit coude fhe redreſſe :
Ther n'as difcord, rancour, ne hevineffe,
In all the lond that ſhe ne coude appeſe,
And wifely bring hem all in hertes efe,
Though that hire huſbond abſent were or non
If gentilmen or other of that contree
Were wroth, fhe wolde bringen hem at on.
So wife and ripe wordes hadde fhe,
And jugement of fo grete equitee,
That the from heven fent was, as men wend,
Peple to fave, and every wrong to amend.
Not longe time after that this Grifilde
Was wedded, fhe a doughter hath ybore,
All had hire lever han borne a knave childe:
Glad was the markis and his folk therfore;
For though a maiden childe come all before,
She may unto a knave child atteine,
By likelyhed, fin fhe n'is not barreine.
Pars tertia.
Ther fell, as it befalleth times mo,
Whan that this childe had fouked but a throwe,
This markis in his herte longed fo
To tempt his wif, hire ſadneſſe for to knowe,
That he ne might out of his herte throwe
This marvellous defir his wif to aſſay :
Nedlees, God wot, he thought hire to affray.
He had affaied hire ynough before,
And found hire ever good: what needeth it
Hire for to tempt, and alway more and more?
Though fome men praiſe it for a fubtil wit;
But as for me, I fay that evil it fit
To affay a wife whan that it is no nede,
And putten hire in anguiſh and in drede.
For which this markis wrought in this manere :
He came a-night alone ther as the lay
With ftern face and with full trouble chere,
And fayde thus, Grifilde, (quod he) that day
That I you toke out of your poure array,
And put you in eftat of high nobleffe,
Ye han it not forgetten, as I geffe;
I fay, Grifilde, this prefent dignitee,
In which that I have put you, as I trow,
Maketh you not forgetful for to be
That I you toke in poure eftat ful low,
For ony wcle ye mote yourfelven know,
Take hede of every word that I you ſay,
Ther is ne wight that hereth it but we tway.
Ye wote yourſelf wel how that ye came here
Into this hous, it is not long ago;
And though to me ye be right lefs and dere,
Unto my gentils ye be nothing fo:
They ſay to hem it is gret fhame and wo
For to be fuggetes and ben in fervage
To thee, that borne art of a ſmal linage.
And namely fin thy doughter was ybore,
Thife wordes hen they fpoken douteles;
But I defire, as I have done before,
To live my lif with hem in reft and pees:
may not in this cas be recheles:
I
mote do with thy doughter for the beſt,
Not as I wold, but as my gentils left.
And yet, God wote, this is ful loath to me;
But natheles withouten your weting
I wol nought do; but thus wol I (quod he)
That ye to me affenten in this thing;
Shew now your patience in your werking
That ye me hight and fwore in your village
The day that maked was our mariage.
Whan ſhe had herd all this, fhe not ameved
Neyther in word, in chere, ne countenance,
(For as it femed, fhe was not agreved)
She fayde, Lord, all lith in your pleaſance;
My child and I with hertely obeifance
Ben youres all, and ye may fave or ſpill
Your owen thing: werketh after your will.
Ther may no thing, fo God my foule fave,
Like unto you that may difplefen me;
Ne I defire nothing for to have,
Ne drede for to lefe, fauf only ye;
This will is in myn herte, and ay ſhall be,
No length of time or deth may this deface,
Ne change my courage to an other place.
Glad was this markis for hire anſwering,
But yet he feined as he were not ſo ;
fo;
Al drery was his chere and his loking,
Whan that he fhuld out of the chamber go.
Sone after this, a furlong way or two,
He prively hath told all his entent
Unto a man, and to his wif him fent.
A maner fergeant was this prive man,
The which he faithful often founden had
In things gret, and eke ſwiche folk wel can
Don execution on things bad;
The lord knew wel that he him loved and drad.
And whan this fergeant wiſt his lordes will,
Into the chambre he ftalked him ful ftill.
Madame, he fayd, ye mote foryeve it me,
Though I do thing to which I am conftreined
Ye ben fo wife, that right wel knowen ye
That lordes heftes may not ben yfeined;
They may wel be bewailed and complained,
But men mote nedes to hir luft obey,
And fo wol I; ther n'is no more to ſay.
The child I am commanded for to take-
And fpake no more, but out the child he hent
Difpitoufly, and gan a chere to make,
As though he wold have flain it or he went,
Grifildis muft al ſuffer and al confent;
And as a lambe ſhe fitteth meke and ſtill,
And let this cruel fergeant do his will,
3
THE
17
CLERKES TALE.
Sufpecious was the diffame of this man,
Sufpect his face, fufpect his word alſo,
Sufpect the time in which he this began:
Alas! hire doughter, that ſhe loved fo
She wende he wold han flaien it right tho;
But natheles fhe neither wept ne fiked,
Conforming hire to that the markis liked.
But at the laſt to ſpeken fhe began,
And mekely fhe to the fergeant praid
(So as he was a worthie gentilman)
That ſhe might kiffe hire child or that it deid;
And in hire barme this litel child fhe leid;
With ful fad face, and gan the child to bliffe,
And luiled it, and after gan it kiffe.
And thus fhe fayd in hire benigne vois;
Farewel, my child, I fhal the never fee,
But En I have thee marked with the crois,
Of thilke fader ybleffed mote thou be
That for us died upon a crois of tree,
Thy foule, litel child, I him betake,
For this night fhalt thou dien for my fake.
I trow that to a norice in this cas
It had been hard this ronthe for to fee;
Wel might a moder than han cried Alas!
But nathcles fo fad ftedfaft was the,
That the endured all adverfitee.
And to the fergeant mekely fhe fayde,
Have here agen your litel yonge mayde.
Goth now (quod fhe) and doth my lordes heft :
And o thing wold I pray you of your grace,
But if my lord forbade you at the left,
Burieth this litel body in fom place
That beftes ne no briddes it to-race.
But he no word to that purpos wold fay,
But toke the child, and went upon his way.
This fergeant came unto his lord again,
And of Grifildes wordes and hire chere
He told him point for point, in fhort and plain,
And him prefented with his doughter dere.
Somwhat this lord hath routhe in his manere,
But natheles his purpos held he ftill,
As lordes don whan they wol have hir will;
And bad this fergeant that he prively
Shulde this child ful fofte wind and wrappe,
With alle circumftances tendrely,
And carry it in a cofre or in a lappe;
But upon peine his hed of for to ſwappe
That no man fhulde know of his entent,
Ne whens he came ne whider that he went;
But at Boloigne, unto his fufter dere,
That thilke time of Pavie was Counteſſe,
He fhuld it take and fhew hire this matere,
Bufeching hire to don hire befineffe,
This child to foftren in all gentilleffe ;
And whofe child that it was he bade hire hide
From every wight, for ought that may betide.
The fergeant goth, and hath fulfilde this thing.
But to this marquis now retorne we;
For now goth he ful faft, imagining
If by his wives chere he mighte fee,
Or by hire wordes apperceive, that ſhe
Were changed; but he never could hire finde
But ever in on ylike fad and kinde.
As glad, as humble, as befy in fervice
And eke in love, as he was wont to be,
Was fhe to him in every manner wife;
Ne of hire doughter not a word ſpake ſhe:
Non accident for non adverfitee
Was ſeen in hire, ne never hire doughters name
Ne nevened the for erneft ne for game.
Pars quarta.
In this eftat ther paffed ben foure ycre
Er fhe with childe was, but as God wold,
A knave childe fha bare by this Waltere
Ful gracious, and fair for to behold;
And whan that folk it to his fader told,
Not only he but all his contree mery
Was for this childe, and God they thonk and hery.
Whan it was two yere old, and from the breit
Departed of his norice, on a day
This markis caughte yet another left
To tempte his wif yet ofter, if he may.
O! nedeles was fhe tempted in affay :
But wedded men ne connen no mefure
Whan that they finde a patient creature.
Wif, quod this markis, ye han herd or this
My peple fikely beren our mariage,
And namely fin my fone yboren is,
Now is it werfe than ever in al our age;
The murmur fleth myn herte and my corage,
For to myn eres cometh the vois fo imerte,
That it wel nie deftroyed hath myn herte.
Now fay they thus; Whan Walter is agon,
Than fhall the blood of Janicle fuccede,
And ben our lord, for other han we non.
Swiche wordes fayn my peple, it is no drede;
Wel ought I of fwiche murmur taken hede,
For certainly I drede al fwiche ſentence,
Though they not plainen in myn audience,
I worde live in pees if that I might;
Wherefore I am difpofed utterly,
As I his fufter ferved er by night,
Right fo thinke I to ferve him prively.
This warne I you, that ye not fodenly
Out of yourſelf for no wo fhuld outraie ;
Beth patient, and therof I you praie.
I have, quod fhe, fayd thus, and ever ſhal,
I wol no thing, ne n'ill ne thing certain,
But as you lift: not greveth me at al
Though that my doughter and my fone be flain
At your commandement : that is to fain,
I have not had no part of children twein
But first fikeneffe and after wo and peine.
Ye ben my lord, doth with your owen thing
Right as you lift: aſketh no rede of me ;
For as I left at home al my clothing
Whan I came firft to you, right fo (quod fhe)
Left I my will and all my libertee,
And toke your clothing; wherefore I you prey
Doth your plefance, I wol youre luft obey.
And certes, if I hadde prefcince
Your will to know er ye your luft me told,
I wold it do withouten negligence:
But now I wote your luft, and what ye wold,
All your plefance ferme and ſtable I hold;
For wift I that my deth might do you efe
Right gladely wold I dien you to pleſe,
THE
CLERKES TALE.
Deth may not maken no compariſoun
Unto your love. And whan this markis fay
The conftance of his wif, he caft adoun
His eyen two, and wondreth how fhe may
In patience ſuffer al this array;
And forth he goth with drery contenance.
But to his herte it was ful gret plefance.
This ugly fergeant in the fame wife
That he hire doughter caughte, right fo he
(Or werfe, if men can any werfe devife)
Hath hent hire fone, that ful was of beautee:
And ever in on fo patient was fhe
That the no chere made of hevineffe,
But kift hire fone, and after gan it bleffe.
Save this fhe praied him, if that he might,
Hire litel fone he wold in erthe grave,
His tendre limmes, delicat to fight,
Fro foules and fro beftes for to fave.
But ſhe non anſwer of him mighte have:
He wen his way as him no thing ne rought,
But to Boloigne he tenderly it brought.
This markis wondereth ever lenger the more
Upon hire patience and if that he
Ne hadde fothely knowen ther before
That parfitly hire children loved ſhe,
He wold han wend that of fom fubtiltee
And of malice, or for cruel corage,
That ſhe had fuffred this with fad vifage.
But wel he knew that next himſelf certain,
She loved hire children beft in every wife.
But now of women wold I aſken fayn,
If thiſe affaics mighten not ſuffiſe?
What coud a ſturdy huſbond more devife
To preve hire wifhood and hire ftedfaſtneſſe,
And he continuing ever in fturdineffe?
But ther ben fulk of fwiche condition,
That whan they han a certain purpos take,,
They cannot ftint of hir entention,
But right as they were bounden to a ſtake,
They wol not of hir firfte purpos flake:
Right fo this markis fully hath purpoſed
To tempt his wif as he wes firſt diſpoſed.
He waiteth if by word or contenance
That the to him was changed of corage;
But never coud he finden varience;
She was aye on in herte and in vifage;
And aye the further fhe was in age,
The more trewe (if that it were poffible)
She was to him in love, and penible.
For which it femed thus, that of hem two
Ther was but o will; for as Walter left,
The fame luft was hire plefance alſo ;
And God be thanked, all fell for the beſt.
She fhewed wel for ne wordly unreſt
A wif, as of hirefelf, no thing ne fholde
Wille in effect but as hire hufbond wolde.
The felandre of Walter wonder wide fpradde,
That of a cruel herte he wikkedly,
For he a poure woman wedded hadde,
Hath murdred both his children prively:
Swich murmur was among hem comunly.
No wonder is, for to the peples ere
Ther came no word but that they murdred were.
For which ther as his peple therbefore
Had loved him wel, the fclandre of his diffame
Made hem that they him hateden therefore i
To ben a mudrour is an hateful name.
But natheles for erneft ne for
game
He of his cruel purpos n'olde ftente:
To tempt his wif was fette all his entente.
Whan that his doughter twelf yere was of age
He to the court of Rome, in fubtil wife
Enformed of his will, fent his meffage,
Commanding him fwiche billes to devife
As to his cruel purpos may fuffife,
How that the Pope, as for his peples reft,
Bade him to wed another if him left.
I fay he bade they fhulden contrefete
The Popes bulles, making mention
That he hath leve his firfte wif to letc,
As by the Popes difpenfation
To ftinten rancour and diffention
Betwix his peple and him. Thus fpake the bull,
The which they han published at the full.
The rude peple, as no wonder is,
Wenden ful wel that it had ben right fo;
But whan thiſe tidings came to Grifildis,
I deme that hire herte was ful of wo;
But he ylike fad for evermo
Difpofed was, this humble creature,
The adverfitee of fortune al to endure;
Abiding ever his luft and his plefance
To whom that fhe was yeven herte and al,
As to hire veray worldly fuffifance.
But fhortly if this ftorie tell I fhal,
This markis writen hath in fpecial
A lettre, in which he fheweth his entente,
And fecretly he to Boloigne it fente
To the Erl of Pavie, which that hadde the
Wedded his fufter, prayed he ſpecially
To bringen home agein his children two
In honourable eftat al openly;
But o thing he him prayed utterly,
That he to no wight, though men wold enquere,
Shulde not tell whos children that they were.
But fay the maiden fhuld ywedded be
Unto the Markis of Saluces anon.
And as this erl was prayed, fo did he;
For at day fette he on his way is
Toward Saluces, and lordes many on
In rich arraie, this maiden for to gide,
Hire yonge brother riding hire befide.
gon
Arraied was toward hire mariage
This fresfhe maiden, ful of gemmes clere,
Hire brother, which that ſeven yere was of age,
Arraied eke ful fresh in his manere:
And thus in gret nobleffe and with glad chere
Toward Saluces fhaping hir journay
Fro day to day they riden in hir way.
Pars quinta.
Among al his, after this wicked uſage,
This markis yet his wif to tempten more
To the uttereſte prefe of hire corage,
Fully to have experience and lore
If that he were as ftedefaft as before,
THE CLERKES TALE
He on a day in open audience
Ful boiſtouſly hath faid hire this fentence :
Certes, Grifilde, I had ynough pleſance
To han you to my wif for your goodneffe,
And for your trouthe and for your obeyfance,
Not for your linage ne for your richeffe ;
But now know I in very fothfaftneffe
That in gret lordship, If I me wel avife,
Ther is gret fervitude in fondry wife.
I may not don as every ploughman may :
My peple me conftreineth for to take
Ancther wif, and crien day by day;
And eke the Pope, rancour for to flake,
Confenteth it, that dare I undertake :
And trewely thus moche I wol you fay,
My newe wif is coming by the way.
Be strong of herte, and void anon hire place,
And thilke dower that ye broughten me
Take it agen; I grant it of my grace.
Returneth to your fadres hous, (quod he)
No man may alway have profperitee.
With even herte I rede you to endure
The firoke of Fortune or of aventure.
And the agen anfwerd in patience;
My Lord, quod fhe, I wote and wift alway
How that betwixen your magnificence
And my poverte no wight ne can ne may
Maken comparifon; it is no nay :
1 ne held me never digne in no manere
To be your wif, ne yet your chamberere.
And in this hous ther ye me lady made
(The highe God take I for my witneffe,
And all fo wifly he my foule glad)
I never held ne lady me maiftreffe,
But humble fervant to your worthineffe,
And ever fhal, while that my life may dure,
Aboven every wordly creature.
That ye fo longe of your benignitee
Han holden me in honour and nobley,
Wheras I was not worthy for to be,
That thanke I God and you, to whom I prey
Foryelde it you; ther is no more to ſey.
Unto my fader gladly wol I wende,
And with him dwell anto my lives ende.
Ther I was feftred of a childe ful fmal
'Til I be ded, my if ther wol I lede,
A widew clene in body, herte, and al;
For fith I yave to you my maidenhede,
And am your trewe wif, it is no drede,
God fhilde fwiche a lordes wif to take
Another man to hufbond or to make.
And of your newe wif God of his grace
So graunte you wele and profperite,
For I wol gladly yelden hire my place,
In which that I was blifsful wont to be:
For fith it liketh you, my Lord, (quod fhe)
That whilom weren all myn hertes reft,
That I fhal gon, I wol go whan you left.
But ther as ye me profre fwiche dowaire
As I firſt brough, it is wel in my mind
It were my wretched clothes, nothing faire,
The which to me were hard now for to find.
O goode God! how gentil end how kind
Ye femed by your fpeche and your viſage
The day that maked was oure marriage!
But foth is faid, algate I find it trewe,
For in effect it preved is on me,
Love is not old as whan that it is newe.
But certes, Lord, for non adverfitee
To dein in this cas, it fhal not be
That ever in word or werke I fhal repent
That I you yave min herte in hole entent.
My Lord, ye wote that in my fadres place
Ye did me ftripe out of my poure wede,
And richely ye clad me of your grace;
To you brought I nought elles out of drede
But faith, and nakedneffe, and maidenhede;
And here agen your clothing I reſtore,
And eke your wedding ring, for evermore.
The remenant of your jeweles redy be
Within your chambre, I dare it fafly fain.
Naked out of my fadres hous (quod fhe)
I came, and naked I mote turne again.
All your plefance wolde I folwe fain
But yet I hope it be not your entent
That I ſmokles out of your paleis went,
;
Ye coude not do ſo diſhoneſt a thing.
That thilke wombe, in which your children lay,
Shulde before the peple in my walking
Be feen al bare; wherefore I you prey
Let me not like a worme go by the way :
Remembre you, min owen Lord ſo dere,
I was your wif, though I unworthy were.
Wherfore in guerdon of my maidenhede,
Which that I brought and not agen I bere,
As vouchefauf to yeve me to my mede
But fwiche a fmok as I was wont to were,
That I therwith may wrie the wombe of hire
That was your wif. And here I take my leve
Of you, min owen Lord, left I you greve.
The ſmok, quod he, that thou haft on thy bake
Let it be still, and bere it forth with thee.
But wel unnethes thilke word he fpake,
But went his way for routhe and for pitee.
Before the folk hirefelven ftripeth fhe,
And in hire fmok, with foot and hed all bare,
Toward hire fadres hous forth is fhe fare.
The folk hire folwen weping in hir wey,
And Fortune ay they curfen as they gon;
But the fro weping kept hire eyen drey,
Ne in this time word ne fpak fhe non.
Hire fader, that this tiding herd anon,
Curfeth the day and time that Nature
Shope him to ben a lives creature.
For out of doute this old poure man
Was ever in fufpect of hire mariage;
For ever he demed, fin it firſt began,
That whan the lord fulfilled had his corage
Him wolde thinke it were a difparage
To his eftat fo lowe for to alight,
And voiden hire as fone as ever he might.
Agein his doughter haftily goth he,
(For he by noife of folk knew hire coming)
And with hire olde cote, as it might be,
He covereth hire, ful forwefully weping
But on hire body might he it not bring,
For rude was the cloth, and more of age
By daics fele than at hire mariage.
Thus with hire fader for a certain ſpace
Dwelleth this flour of wifly patience,
$0
THE CLERKES TÁLE.
That nother by hire wordes ne hire face,
Beforn the folk, ne eke in hir abſence,
Ne fhewed the that hire was don offence,
Ne of hire high eftat no remembrance
Ne hadde fhe as by hire contenance.
No wonder is, for in hire gret eſtat
Hire goft was ever in pleine humilitee;
No tendre mouth, no herte delicat,
No pompe, no femblant of realtec,
But ful of patient benignitee,
Difcrete, and prideles, ay honourable,
And to hire hufbond ever meke and ftable.
1
Men fpeke of Job, and moſt for his humbleffe,
As clerkes whan hem lift can wel endite,
Namely of men, but as in fothfaftneffe,
Though clerkes preifen women but a lite,
Ther can no man in hunibleffe him acquite
As woman can, ne can be half fo trewe
As women ben, but it be falle of newe.
Pars fexta.
Fro Boloigne is this Earl of Pavie come,
Of which the fame up fprang to more and leffe:
And to the peples eres all and fome
Was couth eke that a newe markifeffe
He with him brought in fwiche pomp and richeffe,
That never was ther feen with mannes eye
So noble array in al Weft Lumbardic.
The markis, which that fhope and knew all this,
Er that this erl was come fent his meſſage
For thilke poure fely Grifildis,
And the with humble herte and glad vifage,
Not with no fwollen thought in hire corage,
Came at his heft, and on hire knees hire fette,
And reverently and wifely fhe him grette.
Grifilde, (quod he) my will is utterly
This maiden that fhal wedded be to me
Received be to-morwe as really
As it poffible is in myn hous to be;
And eke that every wight in his degree
Have his eftat in fitting and fervice,
And high plefance, as I can beſt deviſe.
I have no woman fuffifant certain
The chambres for to array in ordinance
After my luft, and therfore wolde I fain
That thin were all fwiche manere governance;
Thou knoweft eke of old all my plefance:
Though thin array be bad, and evil befey,
Do thou thy devoir at the lefte wey.
Not only, Lord, that I am glad (quoth fhe)
To don your luft, but I defire alfo
You for to ſerve and pleſe in my degree
Withouten fainting, and fhal evermo :
Ne never for no wele ne for no wo
Ne fhal the goft within myn herte ftente.
To love you beft with all my trewe entente.
And with that word fhe gan the hous to dight,
And tables for to fette, and beddes make,
And peined her to don all that ſhe might,
Praying the chambereres for Goddes fake
To haften hem, and fafte fwepe and fhake
And fhe, the mofte ferviccable of all,
Hath every chambre arraied and his hall.
;
Abouten undern gan this erl alight
That with him brought thife: ble children twey;
For which the peple ran to ſee the fight
Of hir array, fo richely befey;
And that at erſt amonges hem they ſcy
That Walter was no fool, though that him left
To change his wif, for it was for the beft.
For fhe is fairer, as they demen all,
Than his Grifilde, and more tendre of age,
And fairer fruit betwene hem fhulde fall,
And more plefant, for hire high linage:
Hire brother eke fo faire was of viſage
That hem to ſeen the peple hath caught plefance,
Commending now the markis governance:
O ftormy peple, unfad and ever untrew,
And undifcrete and changing as a fane,
Delighting evér in rombel that is newe,
For like the mone waxer ye and wane:
A ful of clapping, dere ynough a jane,
Your dome is fals, your conftance evil preveth,
Ay ful gret fool is he that on you leveth!
Thus faiden fade folk in that citce
Whan that the peple gafed up and doun,
For they were glad right for the noveltee
To have a new lady of hir toun.
No more of this make I now mentioun,
But to Grifilde agen I wol me dreffe.
And tell hire conftance and hire befineffe.
Ful befy was Grifilde in every thing
That to the fefte was appertinent ;
Right naught was fhe abaiſt of hire clothing,
Though it were rude, and fondel eke to-rent.
But with glade chere to the yate is went,
With other folk, to grete the markifeffe,
And after that doth forth hire befineffe.
With fo glad chere his getes fhe receiveth,
And conningly everich in his degree,
That no defaut no man apperceiveth,
But ay they wondren what fhe mighte be
That in fo poure array was for to fee,
And coude fwiche honour and reverence,
And worthily they preifen hire prudence.
In all this mene while fhe ne tent
This mide and eke hire brother to commend,
With all hire herte in ful benigne entent,
So wel that no man coud hire preife amend;
But at the laft whan that thife lordes wend
'To fitten doun to mete, he began to call
Grifilde, as fhe was befy in the hall,
Grifilde, (quod he, as it were in his play)
How liketh thee my wif and hire beautee?
Right wel, my Lord, quod fhc, for in good fay
A fairer faw I never non than fhe ;
I pray to God yeve you profperitec,
And ſo I hope that he wol to you fend
Plefance ynough unto your lives end.
O thing befeech I you and warne alfo,
That ye ne prikke with no turmenting
This tendre maiden as ye han do me.
For fhe is foftred in hire nouriſhing
More tendrely, and to my fuppofing
She mighte not adverfitee endure
As coude a poure foftred creature.
THE CLERKES TALE.
8€
And whan this Walter faw hire patience,
Hire glad chere, and no malice at all,
And he ſo often hadde hire don offence,
And fhe ay fade and conftant as a wall,
Continuing ever hire innocence over all,
This ſturdy markis gan his herte dreſſe
To rewe upon hire wifly ſtedefaftneffe.
This is ynough, Grifilde min, quod he,
Be now no more agaſt ne evil apaid;
I have thy faith and thy benignitee,
As wel as ever woman was, affaid,
In gret eftat and pouerelich arraid:
Now know I, dere wif, thy ftedefaſtneſſe
And hire in armes toke, and gan to keffe.
And the for wonder toke of it no kepe;
She herde not what thing he to hire faid;
She ferde as ſhe had ftert out of a ſlepe,
Til the out of hire mafedneſſe abraid.
Grifilde, quod he, by God that for us deid,
Thou art my wif; non other I ne have
Ne never had, as God my foule fave.
And every wight hire joye and feſte maketh
Til fhe hath caught agen hire contenance.
Walter hire doth fo faithfully pleſance,
That it was deintee for to feen the chere
Betwixt hem two fin they ben met in fere.
Thife ladies, whan that they hir time fey,
Han taken hire, and into chambre gon,
And ftripen hire out of hire rude arrey,
And in a cloth of gold that brighte fhone,
With a coroune of many a riche ſtone
Upon hire hed, they into hall hire broughte,
And ther ſhe was honoured as hire ought.
Thus hath this pitous day a blisful end,
For every man and woman doth his might
This day in mirth and revel to diſpend,
Til on the welkin fhone the fterres bright:
For more folempne in every mannes fight
This fefte was, and greter of coſtage,
Than was the revel of hire mariage.
Ful many a yere in high profperitee
Liven thiſe two in concord and in reft,
This is thy doughter which thou haft fuppofed And richely his doughter maried he
To be my wif; that other faithfully
Shal be min heir, as I have ay difpofed;
Thou bare hem of thy body trewely;
At Boloigne have I kept hem prively:
Take hem agen, for now maift thou not fay
That thou haft lorn non of thy children tway.
And folk that otherwife han faid of me,
I warne hem wel that I have don this dede
For no malice ne for no crueltee,
But for to affay in thee thy womanhede,
And not to flee my children (God forbede)
But for to kepe hem prively and ſtill
'Til I thy purpos knew and all thy will.
Whan fhe this herd, afwoune doun fhe falleth
For pitous joye; and after hire fwouning
She both hire yonge children to hire calleth,
And in hire armes, pitoufly weping,
Embraceth hem, and tendrely kiffing
Ful like a moder, with hire falte teres
She bathed both hir vifage and hir heres.
O, fwiche a pitous thing it was to fee
Hire fwouning, and hire humble vois to here!
Grand mercy! Lord, God thank it you (quod fhe)
That ye han faved me my childten dere:
Now rekke I never to be ded right here,
Sin I ftond in your love and in your grace,
No force of deth, ne whan my ſpirit pace,
O tendre, o dere, o yonge, children mine!
Your woful mother wened ftedfaſtly
That cruel houndes or fom foul vermine
Had eten you; but God of his mercy
And your benigne fader tendrely
Hath don you kepe : and in that ſame ſtound
Al fodenly fhe ſwapt adoun to ground.
And in hire fwough ſo fadly holdeth ſhe
Hire children two, whan fhe gan hem embrace,
That with gret fleight and gret difficultee
The children from hire arm they gan arrace.
O many a tere on many a pitous face
Doun ran of hem that ftoden hire befide;
Unnethe abouten hire might they abide.
Walter hire gladeth, and hire forwe flaketh ;
She rifeth up abashed from hire trance,
VOL. J.
Unto a lord, on of the worthieſt
Of all Itaille, and than in pees and reft
His wives fader in his court he kepeth
Til that the foule out of his body crepeth.
His fone fuccedeth in his heritage,
In reft and pees, after his fadres day,
And fortunat was eke in mariage,
Al put he not his wif in gret afſay :
This world is not fo ftrong, it is no nay,
As it hath ben in olde times yore,
And herkneth what this au&our faith therfore
This ſtory is faid, not for that wives fhuld
Folwe Grifilde as in humilitee,
For it were importable tho they wold,
But for that every wight in his degree
Shulde be conftant in adverfitee
As was Grifilde, therfore Petrark writeth
This ſtorie, which with high ſtile he enditeth
For fith a woman was fo patient
Unto a mortal man, wel more we ought
Receiven all in gree that God us fent.
For gret fkill is he preve that he wrought;
But he ne tempteth no man that he bought,
As faith Seint Jame, if ye his piftell rede;
He preveth folk al day, it is no drede;
And fuffreth us, as for our exercife,
With fharpe fcourges of adverfitee
Ful often to be bete in fondry wife,
Not for to know our will, for certes he,
Or we were borne, knew all our freeletee,
And for our beft is all his governance;
Let us than live in vertuous fuffrance.
But o word, Lordings, herkreth or I go:
It were ful hard to finden now adayes
In all a toun Grifildes three or two;
For if that they were put to fwiche affayes
The gold of hem hath now fo bad alayes
With bras, that though the coine be faire at eye
It wolde rather braft atwo than plie.
For which here, for the Wives love of Bathe,
Whas lif and al hire fecte God maintene
In high maiſtrie, and elles were it ſcathe
82
THE
CLERKES TALE.
I wol with lufty herte freshe and grene
Say you a long to gladen you I wene,
And let us ftint of erneftful matere.
Herkneth my fong, that faith in this manere :
Grifilde is ded, and eke hire patience,
And both at ones buried in Itaille,
For which I crie in open audience,
No wedded man fo hardy be to affaille
His wives patience, in truft to find
Grifildes, for in certain he fhal faille.
O noble wives! ful of high prudence,
Let non humilitee your tonges naile,
Ne let no clerk have caufe or diligence
To write of you a ftorje of fwiche mervaille
As of Grifildis, patient and kinde,
Left Chichevache you fwalwe in hire entraille.
Folweth Ecco, that holdeth no filence,
But ever anfwereth at the countrctaille;
Beth not bedaffed for your innocence,
But fharply taketh on you the governaille :
Emprenteth wel this leffon in your minde
For comun profit, fith it may availle.
Ye archewives! ftondeth ay at defence,
Sin ye be strong as is a gret camaille,
Ne fuffreth not that men do you offence,
And felendre wives, feble as in bataille,
Beth egre as is a tigre yond in Inde;
Ay clappeth as a mill I you counfaille.
Ne drede hem not, doth hem no reverence,
For though thin hufbond armed be in maille,
The arwes of thy crabbed eloquence
Shal perce his breft and eke his aventaille;
In jaloufic I rede eke thou him binde,
And thou fhalt make him couche as doth a quaille.
If thou be faire, ther folk ben in prefence
Shew thou thy vifage and thin aparaille;
If thou be foule, be free of thy difpence;
To get thee frendes ay do thy travaille:
Be ay of chere as light as lefe on linde,
And let him care, and wepe, and wringe, and
waille,
3
1
THE MARCHANTES PRÓ LÒĠUE.
*
THE MARCHANTES PROLOGUE.
WEPING and wailing, care, and other forwe,
I have ynough on even and on morwe,
Quod the Marchant, and fo have other mo
That wedded ben; I trowe that it be fo,
For wel I wot it fareth fo by me.
I have a wif the werſte that may be,
For though the fend to hire ycoupled were,
She wolde him overmatche, I dare wel fwere.
What fhulde I you reherſe in ſpecial
Hire high malice? fhe is a fhrew at al.
Ther is a long and a large difference
Betwix Grifildes grete patience
And of my wife the paffing crueltee.
Were I unbounden, all fo mote I the,
I wolde never eft comen in the fnare.
We wedded men live in forwe and care:
Affay it who fo wol, and he fhal finde
That I fay foth, by Seint Thomas of Indě,
As for the more part, I fay not alle;
God fhilde that it fhulde fo befalle.
A, good Sire Hofte, I have ywedded be
Thiſe monethes two, and more not párde;
And yet I trowe that he that all his lif
Wifles hath ben, though that men wolde him rife
Into the herte, ne coude in no manere
Tellen fo much forwe as I you here
Coud tellen of my wives curfedneſſe,
Now, quod our Hofte, Marchant, fo God you
Sin ye fo mochel knowen of that art,
Ful hertely I pray you tell us part.
Gladly, quod he, but of min owen fore,
For fory herte I tellen may no more.
[bleffe,
F
THE MARCHANTES TALE*.
WHILOм ther was dwelling in Lumbardie
A worthy knight, that born was at Pavie,
In which he lived in gret profperitee;
And fixty yere a wifles man was he,
And folwed ay his bodily delit
On women ther as was his appetit,
As don thiſe fooles that ben feculere.
And whan that he was paffed fixty yere,
Were it for holineffe or for dotage
I cannot fain, but fwiche a gret corage
Hadde this knight to ben a wedded man,
That day and night he doth all that he can
To efpien wher that he might wedded be,
Praying our Lord to granten him that he
Mighte ones knowen of that blisful lif
That is betwix an hufbond and his wif,
Old January marrieth young May, and for his une-
qual match receiveth a foul reward, Urry.
And for to live under that holy bond
With which God firfte man and woman bond
Non other lif (faid he) is worth a bene;
For wedlok is fo efy and fo clene
That in this world it is a paradiſe.
Thus faith this olde knight that was fo wife.
And certainly, as foth as God is king,
To take a wif it is a glorious thing;
And namely whan a man is old and hore,
Than is a wif the fruit of his trefore ;
Than fhuld he take a yong wif and a faire,
On which he might engendren him an heires
And lede his lif in joye and in folas,
Wheras thife bachelers fingen alas!
Whan that they finde any adverfitee
In love, which n'is but childiſh vanitee.
And trewely it fit wel to be fo
That bachelers have often peine and wo
Fij
**
THE MARCHANTES TALE.
On brotel ground they bilde, and brotelneffe
They finden whan they wenen fikerneffe ;
They live but as a bird or as a beſte,
In libertee and under non arefte,
Ther as a wedded man in his eſtat
Liveth a lif blisful and ordinat,
Under the yoke of mariage ybound;
Wel may his herte in joye and bliffe abound;
For who can be fo buxom as a wif?
Who is fo trewe and eke fo ententif
To kepe him, fike and hole, as is his make?
For wele or wo fhe n'ill him not forfake;
She n'is not wery him to love and ſerve,
Though that he lie bedrede til that he ſterve.
And yet fom clerkes fain it is not ſo,
Of which he Theophraft is on of tho.
What force though Theophraft lift for to lie?
Ne tak no if, quod he, for hufbondrie,
As for to fpare in houfhold thy difpence:
A trewe fervant doth more diligence
Thy good to kepe, than doth thin owen wif,
For the wol claimen half part al hire lif.
And if that thou be fike, fo God me fave,
Thy veray frendes or a trewe knave
Wol kepe thee bet than fhe, that waiteth
After thy good, and hath don many a day.
ay
This fentence, and an hundred thinges werfe,
Writeth this man, ther God his bones curfe.
But take no kepe of all fwiche vanitee;
Defieth Theophraft, and herkeneth me.
A wif is Goddes yefte veraily;
All other maner yeftes hardely,
As londes, rentes, pafture, or commune,
Or mebles, all ben yeftes of Fortune,
That paffen as a fhadow on the wall:
But drede thou not if plainly fpeke I ſhal
A wif wol laft and in thin hous endure
Wel lenger than thee lift paraventure.
Marlage is a ful grete facrament
He which that hath no wif I hold him fhent;
He liveth helples and all defolat :
(I fpeke of folk in fecular cftat)
And herkneth why, I fay not this for nought,
That woman is for mannes helpe ywrought:
The highe God, whan he had Adam maked,
And faw him al alone belly naked,
God of his grete goodneffe faide than,
Let us now make an helpe 'untò this man
Like to himself, and than he made him Eve.
Here may ye fee, and hereby may ye preve,
That a wif is mannes helpe and his comfort,
His paradis terreftre, and his diſport :
So buxom and fo vertuous is fhe,
They moften nedes liye in unitee:
O flesh they ben, and o fleſh, as I geffe,
Hath but on herte in wèle and in diftreffe.
A wif? a Seinte Marie, benedicite !
How might a man have any adverfite
That hath a wif? certes I cannot feye.
The bliffe the which that is betwix hem tweye
Ther may no tonge telle or herte thinke.
If he be poure, the helpeth him to fwinke;
She kepeth his good, and waſteth never a del;
All that hire huſbond doth, hire liketh wel:
་
She faith not ones, Nay, whan he faith, Ye:
Do this, faith he; Al redy, Sire, faith fhe.
O blissful ordre, o wedlok precious!
Thou art ſo mery and eke ſo vertuous,
And fo commended and approved eke,
That every man that holt him worth a leke.
Upon his bare knees ought all his lif
Thanken his God that him hath fent a wif,
Or elles pray to God him for to ſend
A wif to laft unto his lives end;
For than his lif is fet in fikerneffe,
He may not be deceived, as I geffe,
So that he werche after his wives rede
Than may he boldly beren up his hede,
They ben fo trewe, and therwithal ſo wife;
For which, if thou wilt werchen as the wife,
Do alway fo as women wol thee rede.
Lo how that Jacob, as thiſe clerkes rede,
By good confeil of his mother Rebekke·
Bounde the kiddes ſkin about his nekke,
For which his fadres benifon he wan.
Lo Judith, as the ſtorie eke tell can,
By good confeil fhe Goddes peple kept,
And flow him Holofernes while he flept.
Lo Abigail, by good confeil how the
Saved hire hufbond Nabal, whan that he
Shuld han be flain. And loke, Hefter alfo
By good confell delivered out of wo
The peple of God, and made him Mardochce
Of Affuere enhanſed for to be.
Ther n'is no thing in gree fuperlatif
(As faith Senek) above an humble wif.
Suffer thy wives tonge, as Caton bit;
She fhal command and thou shalt fuffren it,
And yet ſhe wol obey of curtefie.
A wif is keper of thin hufbondrie:
Wel may the fike man bewaile and wepe
Ther as ther is no wif the hous to kepe.
I warne thee, if wifely thou wilt werche,
Love wel thy wif, as Crift loveth his cherche
If thou loveft thyfelf, love thou thy wif
No man hateth his fleſh, but in his lif
He foftreth it, and therfore bid I thee
Cherish thy wif, or thou fhalt never the.
Huſbond and wif, what fo men jape or play,
Of worldly folk holden the fiker way:
They ben fo knit ther may non harm betide,
And namely upon the wives fide.
For which this January, of whom I told,
Confidered hath within his dayes old
The lufty lif, the vertuous quietc,
That is in mariage honey-fwete,
And for his frendes on a day he fent
To tellen hem th' effect of his entent.
With face fad his tale he hath hem told ;
He fayde, Frendes, I am hore and old,
And almoft (God wot) on my pittes brinke,
Upon my foule fomwhat moft I thinke.
I have my body folily difpended,
Bleffed be God that it fhall ben amended!
For I wol ben certain a wedded man,
And that anon in all the haft I can.
Unto fom maiden, faire and tendre of age,
I pray you ſhapeth for my mariage
THE
MARCHANTES TALE.
All fodenly, for i wol not abide;
And I wol fonde to efpien on my fide
To whom I may be wedded haftily.
But for as moche as ye ben more than I,
Ye fhullen rather ſwiche a thinge eſpien
Than I, and wher me befte were to allien.
But o thing warn I you, my frendes dere,
wol non olde wif han in no manere;
She fhal not paffen twenty yere certain:
Old fish and yonge fleſh wold I have fain.
Bet is (quod he) a pike than a pikerel,
And bet than old beef is the tendre veel.
I wol no woman thirty yere of age;
It is but beneftraw and gret forage.
And eke thiſe olde widewes (God it wote)
They connen fo moch craft on Wades bote,
So mochel broken harm whan that hem left;
That with hem fhuld I never live in reft.
For fondry fcoles maken fubtil clerkes;
Woman of many fcoles half a clerk is.
But certainly a yong thing men may gie,
Right as men may warm wax with handes plie;
Wherfore I fay you plainly in a clauſe
I wol non old wif han right for this caufe.
For if fo were I hadde fwiche meſchance,
That I in hire ne coude have no plefance,
Than fhuld I lede my lif in avoutrie,
And fo ftreight to the devil whan I die.
Ne children fhuld I non upon hire geten;
Yet were me lever houndes had me eten
Than that min heritage fhulde fall
In ftraunge hondes; and this I tell you all.
I dote not, I wot the caufe why
Men fhulden wedde; and furthermore wot I
Ther fpeketh many a man of mariage
That wot no more of it than wot my page
For which caufes a man fhuld take a wif.
If he may not liven chaſt his lif,
Take him a wif with gret devotion,
Becauſe of leful procreation
Of children, to the honour of God above,
And not only for paramour or love,
And for they fhulden lecherie efchue,
And yield hir dette whan that it is due;
Or for that echa of hem fhuld helpen other
In mefchefe, as a fufter fhal the brother,
And live in chaftitee ful holily.
But, Sires, (by your leve) than am not I,
For, God be thanked, I dare make avaunt,
I fele my limmes ftark and fuffifant
To don all that a man belongeth to:
I wot myfelven beft what I may do.
Though I be hoor, I fare as doth a tre
That blofmeth er the fruit ywoxen be;
The blofmy tre n'is neither drie ne ded:
I fele me no wher hoor but on my hed
Min herte and all my limmes ben as grene
As laurer thurgh the yere is for to fene.
And fin that ye han herd all min entent,
I pray you to my will ye wolde affent.
:
Diverfe men diverfely him told
Of mariage many enfamples old;
Som blamed it, fom praifed it certain :
But atte lafte, ſhortly for to fain,
(As all day falleth altercation
Betwixen frendes and difputifon)
Ther fell a ftrif betwix his brethren two;
Of which that on was cleped Placebo,
Juftinus fothly called was that other.
Placebo fayd, O January! brother,
Ful litel nede han ye, my lord fo derė,
Confeil to afke of any that is here,
But that ye ben fo ful of fapience
That you ne liketh for your high prudencé
To weiven fro the word of Salomon;
This word; fayd he, unto us everich on,
Werke alle thing by confeil, thus fayd he,
And than ne fhalt thou not repenten thee
But though that Salomon ſpake ſwiche a word
Min owen dere brother and ny lord,
So wifly God my foule bringe af reſt,
I hold your owen confeil is the best.
For, brother min, take of me this motif,
1 have now ben a court-man all my lif,
And God it wot, though I unworthy be,
I have ſtonden in ful gret degree
Abouten lordes of ful high eftat,
Yet had I never with non of hem debat;
I never hem contraried trèwely.
I wot wel that my lord can more than I;
What that he faith I holde it firme and ſtable §
I ſay the fame, or elles thing femblable.
A ful gret fool is any confeillour,
That ferveth any lord of high honour,
That dare prefume, or ones thinken it,
That his confeil fhuld paffe his lordes wit
Nay, lordes be no fooles by my fay.
Ye han yourſelven fhewed here to-day
So high fentence, fo Holily, and wel,
That I confent, and confirme every del
Your wordles all, and your opinioun.
By God ther n'is no man in all this toun,
Ne in Itaille, coud bet han yføyd:
Crift holt him of this confeil wel appaid
And trewely it is an high corage
Of any man that topen is in age
To take a young wif: by my fader kin
Your herte hongeth on a joly pin.
Doth now in this matere ht as yon left,
For finally I hold it for the belt.
Juftinus, that ay ftille fat and herd,
Right in this wife he to Placebo anſwerd :
Now, brother min, be patient I pray;
Sin ye han faid, and herkneth what I fay.
Senek, among his other wordes wife,
Saith that a man ought him right wel avifa
To whom he yeveth his lond or his catel &
And fith I ought avifen me right wel
To wh. m I yeve my good away fro me,
Wel more Lought avifen me, parde,
To whom I yeve my body; for alway
I warne you wel it is no childes play
To take a wif without aviſement.
Men muft enqueren (this is min affent)
Wheder fhe be wife and fobre or dronkelewe,
Or proud, or elles other waies a fhrew,
Fiij
:
86
THE MARCHANTES TALE.
A chidefter, or a wastour of thy good,
Or riche or poure, or elles a man is wood:
Al be it fo that no man finden fhal
Non in this world that trotteth hol in al,
Ne mangne befte, fwiche as mien can devife,
But natheles it ought ynough fuffice
With any wif, if fo were that ſhe had
Mo good thewes than hire vices bad:
And all this axeth leifure to enquere;
For God it wot I have wept many a tere
Ful prively fia that I had a wif,
Praife who fo wol a wedded mannes lif,
Certain I find in it but coft and care,
And obfervances of alle bliffes bare;
And yet, God wot, my neighebours aboute,
And namely of women many a route,
Sain that I have the mofte ftedefaft wif,
And eke the mekeit on, that bereth lif:
But I wot beſt wher wringeth me my fho.
Ye may for me right as you liketh do.
Avifeth you, ye ben a man of age,
How that ye entren into mariage,
And namely with a yong wif and a faire.
By him that made water, fire, erth, and aire,
The yongeft man that is in all this route
Is befy ynow to bringen it aboute
To han his wif alone, trufteth me:
Ye fhul not plefen hire fully yeres three;
This is to fain, to don hire ful plefance :
A wif axeth ful many an obfervance.
I pray you that ye be not evil appaid.
Wel, qued this January, and haft thou faide?
Straw for Senek, and ftraw for thy proverbes;
I counte not a panier ful of herbes
Offcole termes: wifer men than thou,
As thou haft herd, affented here right now,
To my purpos. Placebo, what faye ye?
I faye it is a curfed man, quod he,
That letteth matrimoine fikerly.
And with that word they riſen fodenly,
And ben affented fully that he fholde
Be wedded whan him lift and wher he wolde.
High fantafie and curious befineſſe
Fro day to day gan in the foule empreſſe
Of January about his mariage:
Many a faire fhap and many a faire vifage
Ther paffeth thurgh his herte night by night.
As who ſo toke a mirrour poliſhed bright,
And fet it in a comune market place,
Then fhuld he ſee many a figure pace
By his mirrour, and in the fame wife
Gan January in with his thought deviſe
Of maidens which that dwelten him befide;
He wiſte not wher that he might abide ;
For if that on have beautee in hire face,
Another font fo in the peples grace,
For hire fadneffe and hire benignitee,
That of the peple the greteſt vois hath ſhe :
And fom were riche and hadden a bad name;
But natheles, betwix ernest and game,
He at the last appointed him on on,
And let all other from his herte gon,
And chees hire of his owen auctoritee,
For love is blind all day and may not fee.
And whan that he was in his bed ybrought,,
He purtreied in his herte and in his thought
Hire freſhe beautee and hire age tendre,
Hire middel fmal, hire armes long and fclendre
Hire wife governance, hire gentilleffe,
Hire womanly bering, and hire fadneffe.
And whan that he on hire was condefcended,
Him thought his chois it might not ben amended
For whan that he himfelf concluded had,
Him thought eche other mannes wit ſo bad,
That impoffible it were to replie
Again his chois: this was his fantafie.
His frendes fent he to, at his inftance,
And praied hem to don him that plefance
That haſtily they wolden to him come;
He wolde abregge hir labour all and fome:
Neded no more to hem to go ne ride,
He was appointed ther he wolde abide.
Placebo came, and eke his frendes fone,
And alderfirft he bade hem all a bone,
That non of hem non argumentes make
Again the purpos that he hath ytake;
Which purpos was plefant to God (íaid he).
And veray ground of his profperitee.
He faid ther was a maiden in the toun
Which that of beautee hadde gret renoun,
Al were it fo fhe were of fmal degree;
Sufficeth him hire youth and hire beautee;
Which maid (he faid) he wold han to his wif
To lede in efe and holineffe his life;
And thanked God that he might han hire all
That no wight with his bliffe parten fhall;
And praied hem to labour in this nede,
And ſhapen that he faille not to ſpede :
For than, he fayd, his fpirit was at efe;
Than is (quod he) nothing may me difplefe,
Save o thing pricketh in my conſcience,
1 he which I wol reharfe in your prefence.
I have (quod he) herd faid ful yore ago,
Ther may no man han parfite bliffes two,
This is to fay, in erthe and eke in heven;
For though he kepe him fro the finnes fever,
And eke from every branch of thilke tree,
Yet is ther fo parfit felicitee,
And fo grete efe and luft, in mariage,
That ever I am agaft, now in min age,
That I fhal leden now fo mery a lif,
So delicat, withouten wo or ftrif,
That I fhal han min heven in erthe here
For fin that veray heven is bought fo dere,
With tribulation and gret penance,
How fhuld I than, living in fwiche plefance
As alle wedded men don with hir wives,
Come to the bliffe ther Crift eterne on live is
This is my drede, and ye, my brethren tweie,
Affoileth me this question I preie.
Juftinus, which that hated his folic,
Anſwerd anon right in his japerie,
And for he wold his long tale abrege,
He wolde non auctoritee allege,
But fayde, Sire, fo ther. be non obſtacle
Other than this, God of his hie miracle,
And of his mercy, may fo for you werche,
That er ye have your rights of holy cherche
THE MARCHANTES TALE.
87
Ye may repent of wedded mannes lif,
In which ye fain ther is no wo ne ſtrif;
And elles God forbede but if he fent
A wedded man his grace him to repent
Wel often, rather than a finglé man:
And therefore, Sire, the best rede that I can;
Defpeire you not, but haveth in memorie
Paraventure ſhe may be your Purgatorie;
She may be Goddes mené and Goddes whippe,
Than fha your foule up unto heven ſkippe
Swifter than doth an arow of a bow.
I hope to God hereafter ye fhal know
That ther n'is non ſo grét felicitee
In mariage, ne never more fhall be,
That you hal let of your falvation,
So that ye ufe, as ſkill is and refon,
The luftes of your wif attemprely,
And that ye plefe hire nat to amoroufly,
And that ye képe you eke from other finne.
My Tale is don, for my wit is but thinne.
Beth not agaft hereof, my brother dere,
But let us waden out of this matere,
The Wif of Bathe, if ye han underſtond,
Of mariage, which ye now han in hond,
Declared hath fut wel in litel ſpace.
Fareth now wel, God have you in his grace!
And with this word this Juftine and his brother
Han take hir leve, and eche of hem of other:
And whan they ſaw that it muſt nedės be,
They wroughten ſo by fleighte and wife trétee
That the this maiden, which that Maius hight,
As haftily as ever that fhe might,
Shal wedded be unto this January.
I trow it were to longe you to tary,
If I you told of every fcript and bond
By which that he was feoffed in this lond,
Or for to rekken of hire rich array.
But, finally, ycomen is the day
That to the chirche both ben they went
For to receive the holy facrament.
And with hire firebrond in hire hönd aboute
Danceth before the bride and all the route.
And certainly I dare right wel ſay this,
Ymeneus, that god of Wedding is,
Saw never his lif fo mery a wedded man.
Hold thou thy pees, thou poet Marcian,
That writeft us that ilke wedding mery
Of hire Philologie and him Mercurie,
And of the fonges that the Mufes fonge;
To fmal is both thy pen and eke thy tonge
For to defcriven of this mariage.
Whan tendre Youth hath wedded ftouping Age,
Ther is fwiche mirth that it may not be writen ;
Affaieth it yourſelf, than may ye witen
If that I lie or non in this matere.
Maius, that fit with fo benigne a chere,
Hire to behold it fened Faerie.
Quene Hefter loked never with fwiche an eye
On Affuere, fo meke a look hath fhe.
I may you not devife all hire beautee;
But this moch of hire beautee tell I may;
That ſhe was like the brighte norwe of May,
Fulfilled of all beautee and plefance.
This January is raviſhed in a trance
At every time he loketh in hire face;
But in his herte he gan hire to manace
That he that night in armes wold hire freine
Harder than ever Paris did Haleine.
But natheles yet had he gret pitée
That thilke night offenden hire muſt he,
And thought, alas! o tendre creature!
Now wolde God ye mighten wel endure
All
my corage; it is fo fharpe and kene
I am agaſt ye ſhal it nat fuftène !
But God forbede that I did all my might!
Now wolde God that it were waxen night,
And that the night wold laften ever mo!
I wold that all this peple were ago!
And, finally, he doth all his labour,
As he beſt nighte, faving his honour,
Forth cometh the preeft,with ſtole about his nekke, To hefte him fro the mete in fubtil wife.
And bade hire be like Sara and Rebekke
In wifdome and in trouithe of mariage;
And fayd his orifons, as is ufage,
The time came that refon was to rife,
And after that men dance and drinken faſt,
And fpices all about the hous they caft,
And crouched hem, and bade God fhuld hem bleffe, And ful of joye and bliffe is every man,
And made all fiker ynow with holin effe.
Thus ben they wedded with folempnitee ;
And at the fefte fitteth he and ſhe,
With other worthy folk; upon the deis.
Al ful of joye and bliffe is the paleis,
And ful of inftruments, and of vitaille
The mofte deinteous of all Itaille.
Beforn hem ftood fwiche inftruments of foun
That Orpheus, ne of 'Theber Amphion,
Ne maden never ſwiche a melodie:
At every cours in came loud minſtralcie,
That never Joab tromped for to here;
Ne he Theodomas yet half fo cleré
At Thebes whan the citee was in doute.
Bacchus the win hint fkinketh all aboute,
And Venus laugheth upon every wight,
(For January was become hire knight;
And wolde both affaien his corage
In libertee and eke in mariage)
All but a fquier that highte Damian,
Which carf beforn the knight ful many a day :
He was fo ravifht on his Lady May,
That for the veray peine he was nie wood;
Almoſt he fwelt, and fwouned ther he ſtood":
So fore hath Venus hurt him with hire brona
As that the bare it dancing in hire hond;
And to his bed he went him haftily:
No more of him as at this time fpeke I,
But ther I let him wepe ynow and plaine,
Til freſhe May wol rewen on his peine.
O perilous fire that in the bedftraw bredeth!
O famuler fo that his fervice bedeth!
O fervant traitor, falfe of holy hewe,
Like to the nedder in bofom 'flie untrewe,
God fhelde us alle from your acquaintance!
O January! dronken in plefance
Of mariage, fee how thy Damian,
Thin owen fquier and thy boren man,
Fi
!
88
MARCHANTES TALE.
THE
Entendeth for to do thee vilanie:
God grant thee thin homly fo to efpie,
For in this world n'is werfe peftilence
Than homly fo all day in thy prefence.
Parformed hath the fonne his arke diurne,
No longer may the body of him fojourne
On the orifont, as in that latitude;
Night, with his mantel that is derke and rude,
Gan overfprede the hemifperie aboute,
For which departed is this lufty route
Fro January, with thank on every fide.
Home to hir houfes luftily they ride,
Ther as they don hir thinges as hem left,
And whan they faw hir time gon to reſt.
Sone after that this haſtif January
Wol go to bed, he wol no longer tary.
He drinketh Ipocras, clarre, and Vernage,
Of fpices hot, to encrefen his corage;
And many a letuarie had he ful fine,
Swiche as the curfed monk Dan Conftantine
Hath written in his book De Coits;
To ete hem all he wolde nothing eſchue :
And to his privee frendes thus fayd he :
For Goddes love, as fone as it may be,
Let voiden all this hous in curteis wife.
And they han don right as he wol deviſe.
Men drinken, and the travers drawe anon;
The bride is brought a-bed as ftill as ſton
And whan the bed was with the preeft ybleffed
Out of the chambre hath every wight him dreffed,
And January hath fat in armes take
His freſhe May, his paradis, his make.
He lulleth hire, he kiffeth hire ful oft;
With thicke briftles of his berd unfoft,
Like to the fkin of houndfifh, fharp as brere,
(For he was fhave al newe in his manere)
He rubbeth hire upon hire tendre face,
And fayde thus; Alas! I mete treſpace
To
o you my fpoufe, and you gretly offend,
Or time come that I wol doun defcend:
But natheles confidereth this, (quod he)
Ther n'is no werkman, whatſoever he be,
That may both werken wel and haſtily :
This wol be don at leifer parfitly.
It is no force how longe that we play;
In trewe wedlock coupled be we tway;
And bleffed be the yoke that we ben inne,
For in our actes may ther be no finne.
A man may do no finne with his wif,
Ne hurt himfelven with his owen knif,
For we have leve to play us by the lawe.
Thus laboureth he til that the day gan dawe,
And than he taketh a fop in fine clarre,
And upright in his bed than fitteth he.
And after that he fang ful lond and clere,
And kift his wif, and maketh wanton chere.
He was al coltiſh, ful of ragerie,
And ful of jergon as a flecked pie.
The flacke fkin about his necke ſhaketh
While that he fang, fo chantech he and craketh.
But God wot what that May thought in hire herte
Whan fhe him faw up fitting in his fherte,
In his night cap, and with his necke lene:
She praiſeth not his playing worth a bene.
Than fayd he thus; My refte wol I take,
Now day is come, I may no longer wake;
And doun he layd his hed and ſlept til prime.
And afterward, whan that he faw his time,
Up rifeth January, but freſhe May
Held hire in chambre til the fourth day,
As uſage is of wives for the beſte;
For every labour fomtime mofte han refte,
Or elles longe may he not endure;
This is to fay, no lives creature,
Be it of fish, or brid, or beſt, or man.
Now wol I fpeke of woful Damian,
That langureth for love, as ye ſhul here,
Therefore I fpeke to him in this manere.
I fay, O fely Damian, alas!
Anſwer to this demand as in this cas;
How fhalt thou to thy lady freſhe May
Tellen thy wo? fhe wol alway ſay nay;
Eke if thou fpeke fhe wol thy wo bewrein -
God be thin help! I can no better ſein.
This fike Damian in Venus fire
So brenneth that he dieth for deſire,
For which he put his lif in aventure,
No lenger might he in this wife endure,
But prively a penner gan he borwe,
And in a lettre wrote he all his forwe,
In manere of a complaint or a lay,
Unto his faire frefhe Lady May,
And in a purfe of filk heng on his fherte
He hath it put, and layd it at his herte.
The mone that at none was thilke day
That January hath wedded freſhe May,
In ten of Taure was into Cancer gliden,
So long hath Maius in hire chambre abiden,
As cuftome is unto thiſe nobles alle.
A bride fhal not eten in the halle
T'il dayes four, or three days at the lefte,
Ypaffed ben, than let hire go to feſte.
The fourthe day complete fro none to none.
Whan that the highe meffe was ydone,
In halle fat this January and May,
As freſh as is the brighte fomers day ;
And fo befel how that this goode man
Remembred him upon this Damian,
And fayde, Seinte Marie, how may it Be
That Damian entendeth not to me?
Is he ay fike? or how may this betide?
His fquiers, which that ftoden ther befide,
Excufed him becaufe of his fikneffe,
Which letted him to don his befineffe;
Non other caufe mighte make him tary.
That me forthinketh, quod this January ;
He is a gentil fquier by my trouthe,
If that he died, it were gret harme and routhe
He is as wife, difcret, and as fecree,
As any man I wote of his degree,
And therto manly and eke ferviſable,
And for to ben a thrifty man right able.
But after mete, as fone as ever I may,
I wol myfelfe vifite him, and cke May,
To don him all the comfort that I can.
And for that word him bleffed every man,
That of his bountec and his gentilleffe
He wolde fo comforten in fikneffe
THE
MARCHANTES TALÉ
His fquier, for it was a gentil dede,
Dame, quod this January, take good hede
At after mete ye with your women alle,
(Whan that ye ben in chambre out of this halle)
That all ye gon to fee this Damien ;
Doth him difport, he is a gentil man,
And telleth him that I wol him vifite,
Have I no thing but refted me a lite:
And fpede you fafte, for I wol abide
Til that ye flepen fafte by my fide.
And with that word he gan unto him calle
A fquier that was marfhal of his halle,
And told him certain thinges that he wolde.
This freſhe May hath ftreight hire way yhold,
With all hire women, unto Damian :
Doun by his beddes fide fit fhe than,
Comforting him as goodly as fhe may.
This Damian, whan that his time he ſay,
In fecree wife his purſe and eke his bill,
In which that he ywritten had his will,
Hath put into hire hond withouten more,
Save that he liked wonder depe and fore,
And foftely to hire right thus fayd he;
Mercie, and that ye nat diſcover me,
For I am ded if that this thing be kid.
This purſe hath ſhe in with hire boſome hid,
And went hire way: ye get no more of me :
But unto January ycome is fhe,
That on his beddes fide fate ful ſoft.
He taketh hire and kiffeth hire ful oft,
And layd him doun to flepe, and that anon.
She feined hire as that the mufte gon
Ther as ye wote that every wight mot nede;
And whan fhe of this bill hath taken hede,
She rent it all to cloutes at the laft,
And in the privee ſoftely it caſt.
Who ftudieth now but faire freſhe May?
Adoun by olde January the lay,
That flepte til the cough had him awaked.
Anon he prayd hire ſtripen hire al naked,
He wolde of hire, he faid, have fom pleſance,
And faid hire clothes did him encombrance.
And the obeieth him, be hire lefe or loth.
But left that precious folk be with me wroth,
How that he wrought I dare nat to you tell,
Or wheder hire thought it paradis or hell:
But ther I let hem werken in hir wife
Til eveefong rang, and that they muſt arife.
Were it by deftinee or aventure,
Were it by influence or by nature,
Or conftellation, that in fwiche eſtat
The heven ſtood at that time fortunat,
As for to put a bill of Venus werkes
(For alle thing hath time, as fayn thife clerkes)
To any woman for to get hire love,
I cannot fay but grete God above,
That knoweth that non act is caufeles,
He deme of all, for I wol hold my pees.
But foth is this, how that this freſhe May
Hath taken fwiche impreffion that day
Of pitee on this fike Damian,
That fro hire herte fhe ne driven can
The remembrance for to don him efe.
I rekke not, for here I him affure
To love him beft of any creature,
Though he no more hadde than his fherte.
Lo, pitee renneth fone in gentil herte:
Here may ye feen how excellent franchife
In women is whan they hem narwe avife.
Som tyraunt is, as ther ben many on,
That hath an herte as hard as any fton,
Which wold han lette him fterven in the place
Wel rather than han granted him hire grace.
And hem rejoycen in hir cruel pride,
And rekken not to ben an homicide.
This gentil May, fulfilled of pitee,
Right of hire hond a lettre maketh fhe,
In which the granteth him hire veray grace:
Ther lacked nought but only day and place
Wher that ſhe might unto his luft fuffice;
For it fhal be right as he wol devife.
And whan fhe faw hire time upon a day
To vifiten this Damian goth this May,
And fotilly this lettre doun fhe threſt
Under his pilwe, rede it if him left.
She taketh him by the hond, and hard him twiß,
So fecretly that no wight of it wift,
And bade him ben all hol; and forth fhe went
To January whan he for hire fent.
Up rifeth Damian the nexte morwe,
Al paffed was his fikneſſe and his forwe,
He kembeth him, he proineth him and piketh,
He doth all that his lady luft and liketh;
And eke to January he goth as lowe
As ever did a dogge for the bowe.
He is fo plefant unto every man,
(For craft is all, who ſo that don it can)
That every wight is fain to ſpeke him good;
And fully in his ladies grace he ſtood.
Thus let I Damian about his nede,
And in my Tale forth I wol procede.
Some clerkes holden that felicitee
Stant in delit, and therefore certain he,
This noble January, with all his might,
In honeft wife as longeth to a knight,
Shope him to liven ful deliciouſly.
His houfing, his array, as honeftly
To his degree was maked as a kinges.
Amonges other of his honeft thinges
He had a gardin walled all with fton,
So fayre a gardin wot I no wher non;
For out of doute I veraily fuppofe
That he that wrote the Romant of the Rofe
Ne coude of it the beautee wel deviſe ;
Ne Priapus ne mighte not fuffife,
Though he be God of Gardins, for to tell
The beautee of the gardin, and the well,
That stood under a laurer alway grene :
Ful often time he Pluto and his quene
Proferpina and alle hir Faerie,
Difporten hem and maken melodie
Aboute that well, and daunced, as men told.
This noble knight, this January the old,
Swiche deintee hath in it to walke and pley,
That he wol fuffre no wight bere the key
Sauf he himself, for of the fmal wiket
Sertain (thought fhe) whom that this thing difplefe He bare alway of filver a cliket,
1
1
THE MARCHANTES TALE.
With which whan that him lift he it unfhette;
And whan that he wold pay his wives dette
In fomer fefon thider wold he go,
And May his wif, and no wight but they two;
And thinges which that were not don a-bedde
He in the gardin parfourmed hem, and ſpcdde.
And in this wife many a mery day
Lived this January and frefhe May:
But worldly joye may not alway endure
To January ne to no creature.
O foden hap, o thou Fortune unſtable!
Like to the fcorpion fo deceivable,
Lo Argus, which that had an hundred eyéni,
For all that ever he coude pore or prien,
Yet was he blent, and, God wor, fo ben mo,
That wenen wifly that it be not ſo.
Paffe over is an efe; I fay no more.
This freihe May, of which I fpake of yore,
In warm wex hath enprented the cliket
That January bare of the fmal wiket,
By which into his gardin oft he went,
And Damian, that knew all hire entent,
The cliket contrefeted prively:
Ther n'is no more to ſay, but haſtily
That flatreft with thy hed whan thou wolt fting; Som wonder by this cliket fhal betide,
The tayl is deth thurgh thin eveniming.
O brotel joye! o fwete poyfon queinte !
O monftre! that fo fotilly canft peinte
Thy giftes under hewe of ſtedfaſtneſſe,
That thou deceiveſt bothe more and leffe,
Why haft thou January thus deceived,
That haddeft him for thy ful frend received?
And now thou haft beraft him both his eyen,
For forwe of which defireth he to dyen.
Alas! this nohle January free,
Amidde his luft and his profperitee,
Is waxen blind, and that al fodenly.
He wepeth and he waileth pitously,
And therwithall the fire of jalouſie
(Left that his wif fhuld fall in fom folie)
So brent his herte that he wolde fain
That fom man had both him and hire yflain;
For nother after his deth ne in his lif
Ne wold he that fhe were no love ne wif,
But ever live as a widewe in clothes blake,
Sole as the turtle that hath loft hire make.
But at the laft, after a moneth or tway,
His forwe gan affwagen, foth to ſay;
For whan he wift it might non other bes
He patiently toke his adverfitee;
Save out of doute he ne may nat forgon
That he n'as jalous ever more in on;
Which jalousie it was fo outrageous,
That neither in halle, ne in non other hous,
Ne in non other place never the mo,
He n'olde fuffre hire for to ride or go
But if that he had honde on hire alway;
For which ful often wepeth freſhe May,
That loveth Damian fo brenningly,
That fhe mofte either dien fodenly
Or elles fhe mofte han him as hire left:
She waited whan hire herte wold to-breſt.
Upon that other fide Damian
Becomen is the forwefullcft man
That ever was, for neither night ne day
Ne might he fpeke a word to freſhe May,
As to his purpos, of no ſwiche matere,
But if that January muſt it here,
That had an hand upon hire cvermo;
But natheles by writing to and fro,
And privee fignes, wiſt he what ſhe ment,
And the knew eke the fin of his entent.
O January! what might it thee availe
Though thou might ſeen as fer as ſhippes faile?
For as good as blind to deceived be
As be deceived whan a-man niay fcc.
Which ye fhul heren if ye wol abide.
O noble Ovide! foth fayeft thou, God wote,
What fleight is it, if Love be long and hote,
That he n'ill find it out in fom manere?
By Pyramus and Thisbe may men lere;
Though they were kept ful long and ſtreit over allé
They ben accorded, rowning thurgh a wall,
Ther no wight coude han founden fwiche a fleighte.
But now to purpos. Er that daies eighte
Were paffed of the month of Juil, befill
That January hath caught fo gret a will,
Thurgh egging of his wif, him for to play
In his gardin, and no wight but they tway,
That in a morwe unto this May faid he,
Riſe up, my wif, my love, my lady free!
The turtles vois is herd, myn owen fwete!
The winter is gon, with all his raines wete.
Come forth now with thin eyen columbine;
Wel fairer ben thy brefts than ony wine.
The gardin is encloſed all aboute;
Come forth, my white ſpouſe, for out of doute
Thou haft me wounded in myn herte, o wif?
No ſpot in thee n'as never in all thy lif.
Come forth, and let us taken our difport;
I chefe thee for my wif and my comfort.
Swiche olde lewed wordes uſed he.
On Damian a figne made fhe,
That he fhuld go before with his cliket.
This Damian hath opened the wiket,
And in he ftert, and that in fwiche manere
That no wight might him fee neyther yhere,
And ftill he fit under a buſh. Anon
This January, as blind as is a ſton,
With Maius in his hand, and no wight mo,
Into this freſhe gardin is ago,
And clappet to the wiket fodenly.
Now wif, quod he, here n'is but thou and Is
That art the creature that I beſt love;
For by that Lord that fit in heven above
I hadde lever dien on a knif
Than thee offenden, dere trewe wif
For Geddes fake thinke how I thee chees,
Not for no covetife douteles,
But only for the love I' had to thee.
And though that I be old and may not fee,
Beth to me trewe, and I wol tell you why;
Certes three thinges fhal ye win therby;
First love of Crift, and to yourſelf honour,
And all min heritage, toun and tour;
I yeve it you, maketh chartres as you left
This fhal be don to-morwe er fonne reſt,
THE
MARCHANTES TALE.
95
So wifly God my foule bring to bliffe:
I pray you on this.covenant ye me kifle.
And though that I be jalons wite me nought;
Ye ben fo depe enprented in my thought,
That whan that I confider your beautee,
And therwithall the unlikely elde of me,
I may not certes, though I fhulde die,
Forbere to ben out of your compagnie
For veray love; this is withouten doute :
Now kiffe me, wif, and let us rome aboute.
This freſhe May, whan fhe thiſe wordes herd,
Benignely to January anſwerd,
But first and forward fhe began to wepe:
I have, quod fhe, afoule for to kepe
As wel as ye, and alfo min honour,
And of my wif hood, thilke tendre flour
Which that I have affured in your hond,.
Whan that the preeſt to you my body bond,
Wherfore I wol anfwere in this manere,
With leve of you, myn owen lord fo dere.
I
pray to God that never daw that day
That I ne ftarve, as foule as woman may,
If ever I do unto my kin that fhame,
Or elles I empeire fo my name
That I be falſe; and if I do that lakke,
爨
​Do ftripen me and put me in a fakke,
And in the nexte river do me drenche:
I am a gentil woman and no wenche.
Why fpeke ye thus? but men ben ever untrewe,
And women han reprefe of you ay newe.
Ye con non other daliance, I leve,
But fpeke to us as of untruft and repreve.
And with that word fhe faw wher Damian
Sat in the bush, and coughen fhe began;
And with hire finger a figne made the
That Damian fhulde climb up on a tre
That charged was with fruit, and up he went ;
For veraily he knew all hire entent,
And every figne that the coude make,
Wel bet than January her own make;
For in a lettre ſhe had told him all
Of this matere, how that he werken fhall.
And thus I let him fitting in the pery,
And January and May roming ful mery,
Bright was the day, and blew the firmament;
Phebus of gold his ftremes doun hath ſent
To gladen every flour with his warmneſſe
He was that time in Geminis I geffe,
But litel fro his declination
Of Cancer, Joves exaltation.
And fo befell in that bright morwe tide,
'That in the gardin, on the ferther ſide,
Pluto that is the King of Faeric,
And many a ladie in his compagnie
Folwing his wif, the Quene Proferpina,
Which that he ravisfhed out of Ethna,
While that the gadred floures in the mede,
(In Claudian ye may the ftory rede,
How that hire in his grifely, carte he fette)
This King of Faerie adoun him fette
Upon a benche of turves freihe and grene,
And right anon thus faid he to his quene:
My wif, quod he, ther may no wight ſay nay,
The experience fo preveth it every day,
The trefon which that woman doth to man:
Ten hundred thouſand ftories tell I can
Notable of your untrouth and brotelnelle.
O Salomon! richeft of all richeffe,
Fulfilled of fapience and wordly glorie,
Ful worthy ben thy wardes to memorie
To every wight that wit and refon can.
Thus praiſeth he the bountee yet of man;
Among a thoufand ncn yet fond k on,
But of all women fond I never non.
Thus faith this king, that kneweyour wikkedneffer
And Jefus, filius Sirach, as I geffe,
He ſpeketh of you but ſelden reverence,
A wilde fire, a corrupt peftilence,
So fall upon your bodies yet to-night.
Ne fee ye not this honourable knight?
Because, alas! that he is blind and old
His owen man fhal make him cakewold:
Lo wher he fit, the lechour, in the tree.
Now wol I graunten of my majeſtee
Unto this olde blinde worthy knight,
That he fhal have again his eyen fight
Whan that his wif wol don him vilanie,
Than fhal he knowen all hire harlotrie,
Both in reprefe of hire and other mo.
L
Ye, Sire, quod Proferpine, and wol pe fo?
Now by my modre Ceres foule Ifwere
That I fhal yeve hire fuffifant anſwere,
And alle women after for hire fake,
That though they ben in any gilt ytake,
With face bold they fhul hemfelve excufe,
And bere hem doun that wolden hem accufe:
For lacke of anfwere non of us fhul dien.
Al had ye feen a thing with both your eyen,
Yet fhul we ſo viſage it hardely,
And wepe, and fwere, and chiden, fabtilly,
That ye fhul ben as lewed as ben gees.
What rokketh me of your auctoritees?
I wote wel that this Jewe, this Salomon,
Fond of us women fooles many on:
But though that he ne fond no good woman,
Ther hath yfonden many an other man
Women ful good, and trewe and vertuous,
Witneſſe on hem that dwelte in Criftes hous
With martyrdom they preved hir conftance.
The Roman geftes maken remembrance
Of
many a veray trewe wif alſo.
But, Sire, ne be not wroth al be it fo,
Though that he faid he fond no good womans.
I pray you take the fentence of the man:
He ment thus, that in foverein bountee
N'is non but God, no, nouther he ne ſhe.
Ey, for the veray God that n'is but on,
What maken ye fo moche of Salomon?
What though he made a temple, Goddes hous?
What though he were riche and glorious?
So made he eke a temple of falfe goddes;
How might he don a thing that more forbode is?
Parde as faire as ye his name emplaftre,
He was a lechour and an idolaftre,
And in his elde he veray God forfoke;
And if that God ne hadde (as faithe the boke)
Spared him for his fathers fake, he fholde
Han loft his regne rather than he wolde.
92
7
THE
MARCHANTES TALE.
I fete nat of all the vilanie
That he of women wrote a boterflie.
I am a woman; nedes mofte I fpeke,
Or fwell unto that time min herte breke:
For fin he ſaid that we ben janglereffes,
As ever mote I brouken hole my treffes,
I fhal nat fparen for no curtefie
To fpeke him harm that fayth us vilanie.
Damc, quod this Pluto, be no lenger wroth,
Lyeve it up but fin I ſwore min oth,
That I wold graunten him his fight again,
My word fhal ftand, that warne I you certain :
I am a king, it fit me not to lie.
And I, quod fhe, am Quene of Faerie.
Hire anſwere fhe fhal han I undertake;
Let us no more wordes of it make.
Forfoth, quod he, I wol you not contrary.
Now let us turn again to January,
That in the gardin with his faire May
Singeth wel merier than the popingay;
You love I beſt, and ſhal, and other non.
So long about the alleyes is he gon,
Til he was comen again to thilke pery
Wher as this Damian fitteth ful mery
On high, among the freſhe leves grene.
This freſhe May, that is fo bright and fhene,
Gan for to fike, and faid, Alas, my fide!
Now, Sire, quod fhe, for ought that may betide,
I mofte have of the peres that I fee,
Or I mofte die, fo fore longeth me
To eten of the fmale peres grene;
Help for hire love that is of heven quene.
I tell you wel a woman in my plit
May have to fruit fo gret an appetit,
That ſhe may dien but fhe of it have.
Alas! qnod he, that I n'adde here a knave
That coude climbe: alas! alas! (quod he)
For I am blinde. Ye, Sire, no force, quod fhe;
But wold ye vouchefauf, for Goddes fake,
The pery in with your armes for to take,
(For wel I wot that ye miſtruſten me)
Than wold I climben wel ynough, (quod fhe)
So I my fote might fetten on your back.
Certes, faid he, therin fhal be no lack,
Might I you helpen with min herte blood.
He ftoupeth doun, and on his back ſhe ſtood,
And caught hire by a twiſt; and up fhe goth.
(Ladies, I pray you that ye be not wroth;
I can nat glofe; I am a rude man
And fodenly anon this Damian
Gan pullen up the fmock, and in he throng.
And whan that Pluto faw this grete wrong,
To January he yaſ again his fight,
And made him fee as wel as ever he might;
And whan he thus had caught his fight again.
Ne was ther never man of thing ſo fain :
But on his wif his thought was ever mo.
Up to the tree he caft his eyen two,
And faw how Damian his wife had dreffed
In fwiche manere it may not be expreffed,
But if I wolde fpeke uncurteifly;
And up he yafa roring and a cry,
As doth the mother whan'the child fhal die :
Out! helpe! alas! hatow! he gan to try;
O ftronge lady ſtore, what doeſt thou?
And the anſwered, Sire, what aileth you?
Have patience and refon in your minde,
I have you holpen on both your eyen blinde.
Up peril of my foule, I fhal nat lien,
As me was taught to helpen with your eyen
Was nothing better for to make you fee
Than ftrogle with a man upon a tree :
God wot, I did it in ful good entent.
Strogle! quod he; ye, algate in it went.
Gode yeve you both on fhames deth to dien;
He fwived thee, I faw it with min eyen,
And elles be I honged by the halſe.
Than is, quod fhe, my medicine al falſe;
For certainly if that ye mighten fee,
Ye wold not fay thife wordes unto mc.
Ye have fom glimfing, and no parfit ſight.
I fee, quod he, as wel as ever I might
(Thanked be God) with both min eyen two,
And by my feith me thought he did thee fo.
Ye mafe, ye mafen, good Sire, quod ſhe;
This thank have I for I have made you fee:
Alas! quod fhe, that ever I was ſo kind.
Now Dame, quod he, let al paffe out of mind:
Come doun, my left, and if I have miffaid,
God helpe me fo as I am evil appaid :
But by my fadres foule I wende have fein
How that this Damian had by thee lein,
And that thy finock had lein upon his breft.
Ye, Sire, quod fhe, ye may wene as you left :
But, Sire, a man that weketh of his ſlepe,
He may not fodenly wel taken kepe
Upon a thing, ne feen it parfitly,
Til that he be adawed veraily :
Right fo a man that lang hath blind ybe,
He may not fodenly fo wel yfee,
Firſt whan his fight is newe comen agein,
As he that hath a day or two yſein.
'Til that your fight yfateled be a while,
Ther may ful many a fighte you begile.
Beware, I pray you, for by heven King
Ful many a man weneth to ſee a thing,
And it is all another than it femeth :
He which that mifconceiveth oft mifdemeth,
And with that word fhe lep doun fro the tree.·
This January who is glad but he?
He kiffeth hire and clippeth hire ful oft,
And on hire wombe he ftroketh hire ful foft,
And to his paleis home he hath hire lad.
Now, goode men, I pray you to be glad.
Thus endeth here my Tale of Januarie;
God bleffe us, and his moder Seinte Marie l.
4
*
THE SQUIERES PROLOGUE,
93.
THE SQUIERES PROLOGUE.
By Goddes mercy, fayde oure Hofte tho,
Now fwiche a wif 1 freie God kepe me fro
Lo, fwiche fleightes and fubtilitees
In women ben; for ay as befy as bees
Ben they us fely men for to deceive,
And from a fothe wol they ever weive:
By this Marchantes Tale it preveth wel
But natheles, as trewe as any ftele
I have a wif, though that ſhe poure be,
But of hire tonge a labbing fhrewe is the
And yet fhe hath an hepe of vices mo,
Therof no force; let all fwiche thinges go.
But wete ye what? in confeil be it feyde,
Me reweth fore I am unto hire teyde;
For and I fhulde rekene every vice
Which that fhe hath, ywis I were to nice;
i
And caufe why, it fhulde reported be
And told to hire of fom of this compagnie,
(Of whom it nedeth not for to declare,
Sin women connen utter fwiche chaffare)
And eke my wit fufficeth not therto
To tellen all; wherfore my Tale is do.
Squier, come ner, if it youre wille be,
And fay fomwhat of love, for certes ye
Connen theron as moche as any man.
Nay, Sire, quod he, but ſwiche thing as I can
With hertly wille, for I wol not rebelle
Agein your luft, a Tale wol I telle.
Have me excuſed if I fpeke amis :
My wille is good; and lo̟ my Tale is this.
THE SQUIERES TALE*
Ar Sarra, in the lond of Tartaria,
Ther dwelt a king that werreied Ruffie,
Thurgh which ther died many a doughty man.
This noble king was cleped Cambufcan,
Which in his time was of fo gret renoun,
That ther n'as no wher in no regioun
* The King of Araba fendith to Cambuſcan King of Sar-
ra a horfe and a fword of rare qualite, and to his daughter
Canace a glafs and a ring, by the virtue whereof the un-
derftandeth the language of all fowles. Much of this
Tale is cither loft or eife never finished by Chaucer.
Prry.
So excellent a lorde in alle thing;'
Him lacked nought that longeth to a king,
As of the fece of which that he was borne.
He kept his lay to which he was yfworne,
And therto he was hardy, wife, and riche,
And pitous and juſt, and alway yliche,
Trewe of his word, benigne and honourable,
Of his corage as any centre ſtable,
Yong, fresh, and ftrong, in armes defirous,
As any bacheler of all his hous.
A faire perfon he was and fortunate,
And kept alway fo wel real eftat,
94.
THE SQUIERES TALE.
That ther n'as no wher fwiche another man.
This noble king, this Tartre Cambuſcan,
Hadde two fones by Elfeta his wif,
Of which the eldeſt fone highte Algarfif,
That other was ycleped Camballo.
A doughter had this worthy king alſo,
That yongeft was, and highte Canace :
But for to tellen you all hire beautee
It lith not in my tonge ne in my conning;
I dare not undertake fo high a thing:
Min Engliſh eke is infufficient;
It mufte ben a rethor excellent,
That coude his colours longing for that art,
If he fhuld hire defcriven ony part:
I am non ſwiche; I mote ſpeke as I can.
And fo befel that whan this Cambufcan
Hath twenty winter borne his diademe,
As he was wont fro yere to yere I deme,
He let the fefte of his nativitee
Don crien thurghout Sarra his citee
The laſt idus of March after the yere.
Phebus the fonne ful jolif was and clere,
Fer he was nigh his exaltation.
In Martes face, and in his manfion
In Aries, the colerike hote figne:
Ful lufty was the wether and benigne,
For which the foules again the fonne fhene:
What for the fefon and the yonge grene
Ful londe fongen hir affections:
Hem femed han getten hem protections
Again the ſwerd of winter kene and cold,
This Cambufcan, of which I have you told,
In real veftiments, fit on his deis
With diademe, ful high in paleis,
And holt his fefte fo folempne and fo riche,
That in this world ne was ther non it liche,
Of which if I fhall tellen all the array,
Than wold it occupie a fomers day;
And eke it nedeth not for to devife
At every cours the order of hir fervice:
I wol not tellen of hir ſtrange fewes,
Ne of hir fwannes ne hir heronfewes :
Eke in that lond, as tellen knightes old,
Ther is fom mete that is ful deintee hold,
That in his lond men recche of it ful fmal;
Ther n'is no man that may reporten al.
I wol not tarien you, for it is prime,
And for it is no fruit, but loffe of time;
Unto my purpos I wol have recours.
And fo befelle, that after the thridde cours,
While that this king fit thus in his nobley,
Herking his miniftralles hir thinges pley,
Beforne him at his bord deliciously,
In at the halle dore al fodenly
Ther came a knight upon a ſtede of bras,
And in his hond a brod mirrour of glas;
Upon his thombe he had of gold a ring,
And by his fide a naked fwerd hanging;
he rideth to the highe bord.
In all the halle ne was ther fpoke a word
For mervaille of this knight; him to behold
Ful befily they waiten yong and old.
And up
This ftrange knight that come this fodenly,
Al armed fave his hed ful richely,
Salueth king and quene, and lordes alle,
By order as they faten in the halle,
With fo high reverence and obfervance,
As wel in fpeche as in his contenance,
That Gawain with his olde curtefie,
Though he were come agen out of Faerie,
Ne coude him not amenden with a word:
And after this beforn the highe bord
He with a manly vois fayd his meſſage,
After the forme uſed in his langage,
Withouten vice of fillable or of letter:
And for his tale fhulde feme the better.
Accordant to his wordes was his chere,
As techeth art of ſpeche hem that it lere.
Al be it that I cannot foune his ftile,
Ne cannot climben over ſo high a ſtile,
Yet fay I this, as to comun entent,
Thus much amounteth all that ever he ment,
If it fo be that I have it in mind.
He fayd, The King of Arabie and of Inde,
My liege Lord, on this folempne day,
Salueth you as he beſt can and may,
And fendeth you, in honour of your fefte,
By me, that am al redy at your hefte,
This ftede of bras, that efily and wel
Can in the ſpace of a day naturel
(This is to fayn, in four-and-twenty houres)
Wher fo you lift, in drought or elles fhoures,
Beren your body into every place
To which your herte willeth for to pace,
Withouten wemme of you thurgh foule or faire ;
Or if you lift to fleen as high in the aire
As doth an egle, whan him lift,
This fame ftede fhal bere you evermore,
Withouten harme, till ye be ther you left,
(Though that ye flepen on his back or reft)
And turne again with writhing of a pin;
He that it wrought he coude many a gin;
He waited many a conftellation
Or he had don this operation,
And knew ful many a fele and many a bond,
This mirrour eke that I have in min hond
Hath ſwiche a might that men may in it fee
Whan ther fhal falle ony adverfitee
Unto your regne or to yourſelf alſo,
And openly who is your friend or fo;
And over all this, if any lady bright
Hath fet hire herte on any maner wight,
If he be falſe, ſhe ſhall his trefon fee,
His newe love, and all his fubtiltee,
So openly, that ther fhal nothing hide,
Wherfore again this lufty fomer tide
This mirrour and this ring, that ye may fe,
He hath fent to my Lady Canace,
Your excellente, doughter that is here.
The vertue of this ring, if ye wol here,
Is this, that if hire lift it for to were
Upon hire thombe, or in hire purſe it bere,
Ther is no foule that fleeth under heven
That fhe ne fhal wel underſtond his ſteven,
And know his mening openly and plaine,
And anfwere him in his langage again
And every gras that groweth upon rote
She fhal eke know, and whom it wol do bote
1
J.
I
}
I
THE
95
SQUIERES TALE.
All be his woundes never fo depe and wide.
This naked fwerd, that hangeth by my fide,
Swiche vertue hath, that what man that it fmite,
Thurghout his armure it wol kerve and bite,
Were it as thicke as is a braunched oke;
And what man that is wounded with the ſtroke
Skal never be hole, til that you lift of grace
To froken him with the platte in thilke place
Ther he is hurt; this is as much to fain
Ye moten with the platte fwerd again
Stroken him in the wound and it wol clofe.
This is the veray foth withouten gloſe:
It failleth not while it is in your hold.
And whan this knight hath thus his tale told
He rideth out of halle, and doun he light.
His ftede, which that fhone as fonne bright,
Stant in the court as ftille as any fton.
This knight is to his chambre ladde anon,
And is unarmed, and to the mete yfette.
Thife prefents ben ful richelich yfette,
This is to fain, the fwerd and the mirrour,
And borne anon into the highe tour
With certain officers ordained therfore;
And unto Canace the ring is bore
Solempuely, ther the fat at the table.
But fikerly, withouten any fable,
The hors of bras, that may not be remued,
It ftant as it were to the ground yglued :
Ther may no man out of the place it drive
For non engine of windas or polive:
And caufe why, for they con not the craft,
And therfore in the place they han it laft
Til that the knight hath taught hem the manere
To voiden him, as ye fhal after here.
Gret was the prees that fwarmed to and fro
To gauren on this hors that ftondeth ſo;
For it fo high was, and fo brod and long,
So wel proportioned for to be ſtrong,
Right as it were a ftede of Lumbardie,
Therwith fo horfly and fo quick of eye
As it a gentil Poileis courfer were;
For certes fro his tayl unto his ere
Nature ne art ne coud him not amend
In no degree, as all the peple wend.
But evermore hir mofte wonder was
How that it coude gon and was of bras:
It was of Faerie, as the peple fẹmed :
Diverſe folk diverfely han demed:
As many heds as many wittes ben.
They murmured as doth a fwarme of been,
And maden fkilles after hir fantafies,
Reherfing of the olde poetries,
And fayd it was ylike the Pegafee,
The bors that hadde winges fer to flee,
Or elles it was the Grekes hors Sinon,
That broughte Troye to deſtruction,
As men moun in thife olde geftes rede.
Min herte (quod on) is evermore in drede;
I trow fom men of armes ben therin,
That fhapen hem this citee for to wia :
As jogelours plaien at thife feftes grete.
Of fondry doutes thus they jangle and trete,
As lewed peple demen comunly
Of thinges that ben made more fubtilly
Than they can in hir lewedneffe comprehende
They demen gladly to the badder ende.
And fom of hem wondred on the mirrour
That born was up in to the maifter tour,
How men mighte in it fwiche thinges fee.
Another anſwered and fayd, It might wel be
Naturelly by compoſitions
Of angles and flie reflections;
And faide that in Rome was fwiche on.
They fpeke of Alhazen and Vitellon,
And Ariſtotle, that writen in hir lives
Of queinte mirrours and of profpectives,
As knowen they that han hir bookes herd.
And other folk han wondred on the ſwerd
That wolde percen thurghout every thing;
And fell in fpeche of Telephus the king,
And of Achilles for his queinte fpere,
For he coude with it bothe hele and dere,
Right in fwiche wife as men may with the fwerd
Of which right now ye have yourſelven kerd.
They fpeken of fondry harding of metal,
And fpeken of medicines therwithall,
And how and whan it fhuld yharded be,
Which is unknow algates unto me.
Tho fpcken they of Canacees ring,
And faiden all that ſwiche a wonder thing
Of craft of ringes herd they never non,
Save that he Moifes and King Salomon
Hadden a name of conning in ſwiche art.
Thus fain the peple, and drawen hem apart.
But natheles fom faiden that it was
Wonder to maken of ferne afhen glas,
And yet is glas nought like afhen of ferne;
But for they han yknowen it fo ferne,
Therfore cefeth hir jangling and hir wonder.
As fore wondren fom on cauſe of thonder,
On ebbe and floud, on goffomer and on mist,
And on all thing til that the cauſe is wiſt.
Thus janglen they, and demen and devife,
Til that the king gan fro his bord ariſe.
Phebus hath left the angle meridional,
And yet afcending was the befte real,
The gentil Leon, with his Aldrian,
Whan that this Tartre king, this Cambuſcar,
Rofe from his bord, ther as he fat ful hie :
Beforne him goth the loude minſtralcie,
Til he come to his chambre of parements,
Ther as they founden divers inftruments,
That it is like an heven for to here.
Now dauncen lufty Venus children dere,
For in the Fish hir lady fat ful hie,
And loketh on hem with a frendly eye.
This noble king is fet upon his trone,
This ftraunge knight is fet to him ful fone,
And on the daunce he goth with Canace,
Here is the revell and the jolitee
It were right good that al fwiche thing were know. That is not able a dull man to deviſe :
Another rowned to his felaw low,
And fayd, He lieth, for it is rather like
Au apparence yaade by fom magike,
He muft han knowen Love and his fervifo
And ben a fentlich man, as freſh as May,
That ſhulde you devifen fwiche array.
96
THE SQUIERES TALE.
Who coude tellen you the forme of daunces
So uncouth, and fo freſhe contenaunces,
Swiche fubtil lokings and diffimulings,
For dred of jalous mennes apperceivings?
No man but Launcelot, and he is ded;
Therfore I paffe over all this luftyhed;
I fay no more, but in this jolfneffe
I lete hem til men to the fouper hem dreffe.
The fteward bit the fpices for to hie,
And eke the win, in all this melodie;
The uſhers and the ſquierie ben gon,
The fpices and the win is come anon:
They ete and drinke, and whan this had an end
Unto the temple, as refon was, they wend:
The fervice don, they foupen all by day.
What nedeth you reherfen hir array?
Eche man wot wel that at a kinges feft
Is plentce to the most and to the left,
And deintees mo than ben in my knowing.
At after fouper goth this noble king
To feen this hors of bras, with all a route
Of lordes and of ladies him aboute.
Swiche wondring was ther on this hors of bras,
That fin the gret affege of Troye was
Ther as men wondred on an hors alfo,
Ne was ther fwiche a wondring as was tho.
But, finally, the king aſketh the knight
The vertue of this courfer and the might,
And praied him to tell his governaunce.
'This hors anon gan for to trip and daunce.
Whan that the knight laid hond up on his rein,
And faide, Sire, ther n'is no more to ſain,
But whan you lift to riden any where
Ye moten trill a pin ftant in his ere,
Which I shal tellen you betwixt us two,
Ye moten nempne him to what place alfo,
Or to what contree that you lift to ride.
And whan ye come ther as you lift abide,
Bid him defcend, and trill another pin,
(For therin lieth the effect of all the gin)
And he wol doun defcend and don your will,
And in that place he wol abiden ftill;
Though all the world had the contrary fwore,
He fhal not thennes be drawe ne be bore:
Or if you lift to bid him thennes gon,
Trille this pin, and he wol vaniſh anon
Out of the fight of every maner wight,
And come agen, be it by day or night,
Whan that you lift to clepen him again
In fwiche a guife as I fhal to you fain
Betwixen you and me, and that ful fone.
Ride whan you lift, ther n'is no more to done.
Enfourmed whan the king was of the knight,
And hath conceived in his wit aright
The maner and the forme of all this thing,
Ful glad and blith this noble doughty king
Repaireth to his revel as beforne.
The bridel is in to the tour yborne,
And kept among his jewels lefe and dere:
The hors vanifht, I n'ot in what manere,
Out of hir fight, ye get no more of me :
But thus I lete in luft and jolitee
This Cambufcan his lordes fefteying
Til that wel nigh the day began to fpring.
Pars fecunda.
The norice of digeftion, the ſlepe,
Gan on hem winke, and bad hem taken kepe
That mochel drinke and labour wol have reft,
And with a galping mouth hem all he keft,
And ſaid, that it was time to lie adoun,
For blood was in his dominatioun :
Cherisheth blood, natures frend, quod he.
They thanken him galping, by two, by three;
And every wight gan drawe him to his reft,
As flepe hem bade; they toke it for the beft.
Hir dremes fhal not now be told for me;
Ful were hir hedes of fumofitee,
That caufeth dreme, of which ther is no charge :
They flepen till that it was prime large,
The mofte part, but it were Canace;
She was ful mefurable, as women be;
For of hire father had ſhe take hire leve
To gon to reft fone after it was evc ;
Here lifte not appalled for to be,
Nor on the morwe unfeftliche for to fee,
And flept hire firfte flepe, and than awoke:
For fwiche a joy fhe in hire herte toke
Both of hire queinte ring and of hire mirrour,
That twenty time the chaunged hire colour.
And in hire flepe right for the impreffion
Of hire mirrour fhe had a vifion;
Wherfore or that the fonne gan up glide
She clepeth upon hire maiftreffe hire befide,
And faide that hire lufte for to ariſe.
+
Thiſe olde women that ben gladly wiſe,
As is hire maiftreffe, anfwerd hire anon,
And ſaid, Madam, whider wol ya gon
ye
Thus erly? for the folk ben all in reſt.
I wol, quod fhe, arifen (for me left
No longer for to flepe) and walken aboute.
Hire maiftreffe clepeth women a gret route,
And up they rifen wel a ten or twelve;
Up rifeth freſhe Canace hireſelve,
As rody and bright as the yonge fonne
That in the Ram is foure degrees yronne;
No higher was he whan fhe redy was;
And forth fhe walketh efily a pas,
Arrayed after the lufty fefon fote
Lightely for to playe, and walken on fotę,
Nought but with five or fixe of hire meinie,
And in a trenche forth in the park goth fhe.
The vapour which that fro the erthe glode
Maketh the fonne to feme rody and brode;
But natheles it was fo faire a fight
That it made all hir hertes for to light,
What for the fefon and the morwening,
And for the foules that the herde fing,
For right anon fhe wifte what they ment
Right by hir fong, and knew al hir entent.
The knotte why that every tale is tolde,
If it be taried til the luft be colde
Of hem that han it herkened after yore,
The favour paffeth ever lenger the more
For fulfumneffe of the prolixitee;
And by that ſame reſon thinketh me
I fhuld unto the knotte condefcende,
And maken of hire walking fone an endes
THE
SQUIERES TALE.
97
Amidde a tree for dry, as white as chalk,
As Canace was playing in hire walk,
Ther fat a faucon over hire hed ful hie
That with a pitous vois fo gan to crie,
That all the wood refouned of hire cry,
And beten had hirefelf fo pitoufly
With both hire winges til the rede blood
Ran endelong the tree ther as ſhe ſtood;
And ever in on alway fhe cried and fhright,
And with hire bek hirefelven ſhe fo twight,
That ther n'is tigre ne no cruel beſt
That dwelleth other in wood or in foreſt
That n'olde han wept, if that he wepen coude,
For forwe of hire, fae fhright alway fo loude.
For ther was never yet no man on live,
If that he coude a faucon wel defcrive,
That herde of fwiche another of fayreneffe
As wel of plumage as of gentileſſe
Of shape, of all that might yrekened be:
A faucon peregrine ſemed ſhe
Of fremde lond, and ever as the ſtood
She fwouned now and now for lack of blood,
Til wel neigh is fhe fallen fro the tree.
This faire kinges doughter Canace,
That on hire finger bare the queinte ring,
Thurgh which the understood wel every thing
That any foule may in his leden fain,
And coude anfwere him in his leden again,
Hath underſtonden what this faucon feyd,
And wel neigh for the routhe almoſt the deyd;
And to the tree ſhe goth ful haftily,
And on this faucon loketh pitously,
And held hire lap abrode, for wel ſhe wift
The faucon mufte fallen from the twiſt
Whan that ſhe fwouned next, for faute of blood.
A longe while to waiten hire fhe stood,
Til at the last fhe fpake in this manere
Unto the hauk, as ye fhul after here:
What is the caufe, if it be for to tell,
That ye ben in this furial peine of hell?
Quod Canace unto this hauk above;
Is this for forwe of deth or loffe of love?
For as I trow thiſe be the caufes two
That caufen moft a gentil herte wo.
Of other harme it nedeth not to fpeke,
For ye yourſelf upon yourfelf awreke,
Which preveth wel that other ire or drede
Mote ben enchefon of your cruel dede,
Sin that I fe non other wight you
chace.
For the love of God as doth yourfelven grace;
Or what may be your helpe? for weft ne ek
Ne faw I never er now no brid ne beft
That ferde with himſelf ſo pitouſly.
Ye fle me with your forwe veraily,
I have of you fo gret compaffioun.
For Goddes love come fro the tree adoun,
And as I am a kinges doughter trewe,
If that I veraily the caufes knewe
Of your difefe, if it lay in my might
I wold amend it or that it were night,
As wifly help me the gret God of kind;
And herbes fhal I right ynough yfind
To helen with your hurtes haſtily.
Tho fhright this faucon yet more pitously
Than ever he did, and fell to ground anon,
And lith afwoune as ded as lith a ſton,
VOL. I
'Til Canace hath in hire lappe hire take
Unto that time the gan of fwoune awake,
And after that the out of fwoune abraide
Right in hire haukes leden thus fhe fayde:
That pitee renneth fone in gentil herte
(Feling his fimilitude in peines fmeṛte)
Is proved alle day, as men may fee
As wel by werke as by auctoritee,
For gentil herte kitheth gentilleffe.
I fee wel that ye have on my diftreffe
Compaffion, my faire Canace,
Of veray womanly benignitee
That Nature in your principles hath fet.
But for non hope for to fare the bet,
But for to obey unto your herte free,
And for to maken other yware by me,
As by the whelpe chaſtiſed is the leon,
Right for that cauſe and that conclufion,
While that I have a leifer and a fpace,
Min harme I wol confeffen er I pace.
And ever while that on hire forwe told
That other wept as the to water wold,
Til that the faucon bad hire to be ftill,
And with a fike right thus fhe faid hire till:
Ther I was bred (alas that ilke day!)
And foftred in a roche of marble gray
So tendrely, that nothing ailed me;
I ne wift not what was adverfitee
Til I coud flee full high under the kie.
Tho dwelled a tercelet me faite by
That femed welle of alle gentilleſſe,
Al were he ful of trefon and falfeneffe.
It was fo wrapped under humble chere,
And under hew of trouth in fwiche manere,
Under plefance, and under befy peine,
That no wight coud have wend he coude feine,
So depe in greyn he died his coloures.
Right as a ferpent hideth him under fleures,
Til he may fee his time for to bite,
Right fo this god of Loves hypocrite
Doth fo his ceremonies and obeifance,
And kepeth in femblaunt alle his obfervance
That founeth unto gentilleffe of love.
As on a tombe is all the faite above,
And under is the corps, fwiche as ye wote,
Swiche was this hypocrite both cold and hote,
And in this wife he ferved his entent,
That fave the fend non wifte what he ment
Til he fo long had weped and complained,
And many a yere his fervice to me fained,
Til that min herte, to pitous and to nice,
Al innocent of his crowned malice,
For-fered of his deth, as thoughte me,
Upon his othes and his feuretee
Graunted him love on this conditioun,
That evermo min honour and renoun
Were faved, both privee and apert;
This is to fay, that after his defert
I yave him all min herte and all my thought,
(God wote and he that other wayesnought)
And toke his herte in chaunge of min for ay.
But foth is faid, gon fithen is many a day
A trewe wight and a theef thinken not on.
And whan he faw the thing fo fer ygon,
That I had granted him fully my love,
In Swiche a guife as I have faid shore.
Ꮐ
$8
SQUIERES TALÈ.
THE
And yeven him my trewe herte as free
As he fwore that he yaf his herte to me,
Anon this tigre, ful of doubleneffe,
Fell on his knees with fo gret hunibleſſe,
With ſo high reverence, as by his chere,
So like a gentil lover of manere,
So ravifhed, as it femed, for the joye,
That never Jafon ne Paris of Troye,
Jafon! certes ne never other man
Sin Lamech was, that alderfirſt began
To lovci: two, as writen folk beforne,
Ne never fithen the firft man was borne,
Ne coude man by twenty thousand part
Contrefete the fophimes of his art,
Ne were worthy to unbocle his galoche,
'Ther doubleneffe of faining fhuld approche,
Ne coude ſo thanke a wight as he did me.
His maner was an heven for to fee
To any woman, were fhe never ſo wife,
So painted he and kempt at point devife
As wel his wordes as his contenance :
And I fo loved him for his obeifance,
And for the trouthe I demed in his herte,
'That if fo were that any thing him fmerte,
Al were it never fo lite, and I it wift,
Me thought I felt deth at myn herte twiſt.
And, fhortly, fo ferforth this thing is went,
That my will was his willes inftrument;
This is to fay, my will obeied his will
In alle thing, as fer as refon fill,
Keping the boundes of my worſhip ever:
Ne never had I thing fo lefe ne lever
As him, God wot, ne never fhal no mo.
This lafteth lenger than a yere or two,
That I fuppofed of him nought but good:
But, finally, thus at the last it ſtood,
"That Fortune wolde that he mufte twin
Out of that place which that I was in.
Wher me was wo it is no queftion;
I cannot make of it défcription:
For o thing dare I tellen boldely,
I know what is the peine of deth therby,
Swiche harme I felt, for he ne might byleve.
So on a day of me he toke his leve,
So forweful eke, that I wend veraily ·
That he had felt as mochel harme as I,
Whan that I herd him fpeke and faw his hewe :
But natheles I thought he was ſo trewe,
And eke that he repairen fhuld again
Within a litel while, foth for to fain,
And refon wold eke that he muſte go
For his honour, as often happeth ſo,
That I made vertue of neceflitee,
And toke it wel fin that it muſte be.
As I beft might I hid fro him my forwe,
And toke him by the hond, Seint John to borwe,
And ſaid him thus, Lo, I am youres all,
Beth fwiche as I have ben to you and fhall.
What he anſwerd it nedeth not reherfe;
Who can fay bet than he, who can do werfe?
Whan he hath al wel faid than hath he done;
Therfore behoveth him a ful long ſpone
That fhal ete with a fend; thus herd I fay.
So at the laſt he mufte forth his way;
Whan forth he fleeth, til he come ther him left.
Whan it came him to purpos for to reſt,
I trow that he had thilke text in mind,
That alle thing repairing to his kind
Gladeth himſelf; thus fain men as I geffe:
Men loven of propre kind newefangelneffe,
As briddes don that men in cages fede;
For though thou night and day take of hem hede,
And ftrew hir cage faire and foft as filke,
And give hem fugre, hony, bred, and milke,
Yet right anon as that his dore is úp
He with his feet wol fpurnen doun his cup,
And to the wood he wol and wormes ete,
So newcfangel ben they of hir mete,
And loven noveltees of propre kind;
No gentilleffe of blood ne may hem bind.
So ferd this tercelet, alas the day!
Though he were gentil borne, and freſh, and gay,
And goodly for to feen, and humble, and free.
He faw upon a time a kite flee,
And fodenly he loved this kite fo
That all his love is clene from me ago,
And hath his trouthe falfed in this wife.
Thus hath the kite my love in hire fervice,
And I am lorn withouten remedy.
And with that word this faucon gan to cry,
And fwouneth eft in Canacees barme.
Gret was the forwe for that haukes harme
That Canace and all hire women made;
They n'iften how they might the falcon glade :
But Çanace home bereth hire in hire lap,
And foftely in plaftres gan hire .wrap
Ther as fhe with hir bek had hurt hireſelve.
Now cannot Canace but herbes delve
Out of the ground, and niaken falves newe
Of herbes precious and fine of hewe
To helen with this hauk : fro day to night
She doth hire befineffe and all hire might.
And by hire beddes hed ſhe made a mew,
And covered it with velouettes blew,
In figne of trouth that is in woman fene,
And all without the mew is peinted grene,
In which were peinted all thiſe falſe foules,
As ben thiſe tidifes, tercelettes, and owles,
And pies, on hem for to cry and chide,
Right for deſpit were peinted hem befide.
Thus lete I Canace hire hauk keping:
I wol no more as now ſpeke of hire ring,
Til it come eft to purpos for to fain,
How that this faucon gat hire love again
Repentant, as the ſtory telleth us,
By mediation of Camballus,
The kinges fone, of which that I you told;
But hennesforth I wol my proceſſe hold
To fpeke of aventures and of batailles,
That yet was never herd fo gret mervailles.
Firſt wol I tellen you of a Cambufcan,
That in his time many a citee wan;
And after wol I fpeke of Algarfif,
How that he wan Theodora to his wif,
For whom ful oft in gret peril he was,
Ne had he ben holpen by the hors of bras;
And after wol I ſpeke of Camballo,
That fought in liftes with the brethren two
For Canace, er that he might hire winne,
And ther I left I wol again beginne.
}
THE FRANKELEINES. PROLOGUE.
99
THE FRANKELEINES PROLOGUE.
In faith, Squier, thou haft thee wel yquit,
And gentilly: I preiſe wel thy wit,
Quod the Frankelein. Confidering thin youthe
So felingly thou fpekeft, Sire, I aloue the
As to my dome ther is non that is here
Of eloquence that ſhal be thy pere
If that you live: God yeve thee goode chance,
And in vertue fend thee continuance,
For of thy fpeking I have gret deintee.
I have a fone, and by the Trinitee
It were me lever than twenty pound worth lond,
Though it right now were fallen in my hond,
He were a man of ſwiche diſcretion
As that ye ben. Fie on poffeffion
But if a man be vertuous withal!
I have my fone fnibbed and yet fhal;
For he to vertue lifteth not to entend,
But for to play at dis and to diſpend,
And leſe all that he hath, is his uſage;
And he had lever talken with a page
Than to commune with any gentil wight
Ther he might leren gentilleffe aright.
Straw for your gentilleffe! quod our Hofte.
What? Frankelein, parde, Sire, wel thou woſt
That eche of you mote tellen at the left
A Tale or two, or breken his beheſt.
That know I wel, Sire, quod the Frankelein:
翌
​pray you haveth me not in difdain
Though I to this man fpeke a word or two.
Tell on thy Tale withouten wordes mo.
Gladly, Sire Hofte, quod he, I wol obey
Unto your will. now herkeneth what I fey:
I wol you not contrarien in no wife,
As fer as that my wittes may fuffice.
I pray to God that it may plefen you,
Than wot I wel that is good ynow.
Thife olde gentil Bretons in hir dayes
Of diverfe aventures maden layes
Rimeyed in hir firſte Breton tonge,
Which layes with hire inftruments they fonge,
Or eiles redden hem for hir plefance,
And on of hem have I in remembrance,
Which I fhall fayn with good wille as I can.
But, Sires, becauſe I am a borel man,
At my beginning first I you befeche
Have me excufed of my rude ſpeche :
I lerned never rhetorike certain ;
Thing that I fpeke it mote be bare and plain :
I flept never on the Mount of Pernafo,
Ne lerned Marcus Tullius Cicero.
Colours ne know I non, withouten drede,
But fwiche colours as growen in the mede,
Or elles fwiche as men die with or peinte;
Colours of rhetorike ben to me queinte;
My ſpirit feleth not of fwiche matere :
But if you luft, my Tale fhul ye here.
THE FRANKELEINES TALE*.
In Armorike, that called is Bretaigne,
Ther was a knight that loved and did his peine
To ferve a ladie in his befte wife,
And many a labour, many a gret empriſe,
He for his lady wrought or fhe were wonne,
For fhe was on the faireſt under fonne,
* Aurelius, after much labour and coft bestowed to win
the love of Dorigen, another man's wife, is content in the
end, through the good dealing of her and her husband,
to lofe both his labour and coft. The fcope of this T le
leemeth to be a contention of courteſy. Urry.
And eke therto comen of fo high kinrede
That, wel unnethes durft this knight for drede.
Tell hire his wo, his peine, and his diftreffe:
But at the laft fhe for his worthineffe,
And namely for his meke obeyfance,
Hath fwiche a pitee caught of his penance,
That prively the fell of his accord
To take him for hire hufbond and hire lord,
(Of fwiche lordſhip as men han over hir wives)?
And, for to lede the more in bliſſe hir lives,
Gij
ds
M
100
THE FRANKELEINES TALE.
Th
F
Of his free will he fwore hire as a knight
That never in all his lif he day ne night
Ne fhulde take upon him no maiſtrie
Agains hire will, ne kithe hir jaloufie,
But hire obey, and folwe hire will in al,
As any lover to his lady fhal,
Save that the name of foverainetee,
That wold he han for fhame of his degree.
She thonked him, and with ful gret humbleffe
She faide, Sire, fin of your gentilleffe
Ye profren me to have fo large a reine,
Ne wolde God never betwix us tweine,
As in my gilt, were either werre or ſtrif:
Sire, I wol be your humble trewe wif,
Have here my trouth, till that myn herte brefte.
Thus ben they both in quiete and in reſte.
For o thing, Sires, faufly dare I feie,
That frendes everich other muft obeie,
If they wol long holden compagnie:
Love wol not be conftreined by maiſtrie:
Whan maiſtrie cometh, the god of Love anon
Beteth his winges, and, farewel, he is-gon.
Love is a thing as any ſpirit free.
Women of kind defiren libertee,
And not to be conftreined as a thral;
And fo don men, if fothly I ſay thal.
Loke, who that is moſt patient in love
He is at his avantage all above.
Patience is an high vertue certain,
For it venquifheth, as thiſe clerkes fain,
Thinges that rigour never fulde atteine.
For every word men may not chide or pleine.
Lerneth to fuffren, or, fo mote I gon,
Ye'fhul it lerne whether ye wol or non;
For in this world certain no wight ther is
'That he ne doth or fayth fomtime amis.
Tre, fiknéffe, or conftellation,
Win, wo, or changing of complexion,
Caufeth ful oft to den amis or ſpeken :
On every wrong a nan may not be wreken.
After the time must be temperance
To every wight that can of governance:
And therfore hath this worthy wife knight
(To liven in efe) ſuffrance hire behight,
And ſhe to him ful wifly gan to fwere
That never fhuld ther be defaute in here.
Here may men feen an humble wife accord;
Thus hath the take hire fervant and hire lord,
Servant in love and lord in mariage.
Than was he both in lordſhip and fervage?
Servage! nay, but in lordship al above,
Sin he hath both his lady and his love;
His lady certes, and his wif alſo,、
The which' that law of love accordeth to.
And whan he was in this profperitee
Home with his wif he goth to his contree,
Not fer fro Penmark, ther his dwelling was,
Wher as he liveth in bliffe and in folas.
*
Who coude telle, but he had wedded be,
The joye, the efc, and the profperitee
That is betwix an hufbond and his wif?
A yere and more lafteth this blisful lif,
Til that this knight, of which I ſpake of this,
That of Cairrud was cleped Arviragus,
Shope him to gon and dwelle a yere or twaine
In Englelond, that cleped was eke Bretaigne,
To feke in armes worship and honour,
(For all his luft he fet in fwiche labour)
And dwelte ther two yere: the book faith thus.
Now wol I ftint of this Arviragus,
And fpeke I wol of Dorigene his wif,
That loveth hire hufbond as hire hertes lif.
For his abfence wepeth fhe and fiketh,
As don thiſe noble wives whan hem liketh :
She morneth, waketh, waileth, faſteth, pleineth:
Defir of his preſence hire ſo diſtraineth,
That all this wide world fhe fet at nought.
Hire frendes, which that knew hire hevy thought,
Comforten hire in all that ever they may;
hey prechen hire, they telle hire night and day
That caufeles fhe fleth hirefelf, alas!
And every comfort poffible in this cas
They don to hire with all hire befineffe,
Al for to make hire leve hire hevineffe,
By proceffe, as ye knowen everich on,
Men mowe fo longe graven in a ſton
Til fom figure therin emprented be:
So long han they comforted hire til fhe
Received hath, by hope and by refon,
The emprenting of hir confolation,
Thurgh which hire grete forwe gan afftage:
She may not alway duren in fwiche rage.
And eke Arviragus, in all this care,
Hath fent his lettres home of his welfare,
And that he wol come haſtily again,
Or elles had this forwe hire herte flain.
Hire frendes faw hire forwe gan to flake,
And preiden hire on knees, for Goddes fake,
To come and romen in hir compagnie,
Away to driven hire darke fantafie:
And, finally, fhe granted that requeft,
For wel fhe faw that it was for the beft.
Now ftood hire caftel fáfte by the fee,
And often with hire frendes walked fhe,
Hire to difporten on the bank an hie,
Wher as fhe many a fhip and barge fie
Sailing hir cours wher as hem lift to go:
But than was that a parcel of hire wo,
For to hirefelf ful oft, alas! faid fhe,
Is ther no fhip, of fo many as I ſee,
Wol bringen home my lord? than were my herte
Al warifhed of his bitter peines fmerte.
Another time wold fhe fit and thinke,
And caft hire eyen dounward fro the brinke;
But whan fhe faw the grifly rockes blake,
For veray fere fo wold hire herte quake
That on hire feet fhe might hire not fuftene :
Than wold fhe fit adoun upon the grene,
And pitoufly into the fee behold,
And fay right thus, with careful fikes cold:
Eterne God! that thurgh thy purveance
Ledeft this world by certain governance,
In idel, as men fain, ye nothing make:
But, Lord! thiſe grifly fendly rockes blake,
That femen rather a foule confufion
Of werk than any faire creation
Of fwiche a parfit wife God and ftable,
Why han ye wrought this werk unreſonable?
THE FRANKELEINES TALE.
EQI
For by this werk north, fouth, ne weft, ne cft,
Ther n'is yfoftred man, ne brid, ne beſt :
It doth no good to my wit, but anoyeth.
See ye not, Lord! how mankind it deftroyeth?
An hundred thoufand bodies of mankind
Han rockes flain, al be they not in mind,
Which mankind is fo faire part of thy werk,
Thou made it like to thyn owen merk.
Than, femeth it, ye had a gret chertee
Toward mankind; but how than may it be
That ye fwiche menes make it to deftroyen,
Which menes don no good, but ever anoyen?
I wote wel clerkes wol fain as hem left,
By arguments, that all is for the beſt,
'Though I ne can the caufes nought yknow;
But thilke God that made the wind to blow
As kepe my lord; this is my conclufion;
To clerkes lete I all difputifon :
But wolde God that all thife rockes blake
Were fonken into helle for his fake:
Thife rockes flee min herte for the fere.
Thus wold fhe fay with many a pitous tere.
Hire frendes faw that it was no difport
To romen by the fee, but difcomfort,
And ſhape hem for to plaien fomwher elles.
They leden hire by rivers and by welles,
And eke in other places delitable;
They dancen, and they play at ches and tables.
So on a day, right in the morwe tide,
Unto a garuin that was ther befide,
In which that they had made hir ordinance
Of vitaille and of other purvcance,
They gon and plaie hem all the longe day;
And this was on the fixte morwe of May,
Which May had peinted with his fofte fhoures
This garden ful of leves and of floures:
And craft of mannes hond fo curiouſly
Arrayed had this gardin trewely,
That never was ther gardin of fwiche pris,
But if it were the veray Paradis.
The odour of floures and the freſhe fight
Wold han ymaked any herte light
That ever was born, but if to gret fikencffe
Or to gret forwe held it in diftreffe,
So ful it was of beautee and plefance.
And after dinner gonnen they to dance
And fing alſo, fauf Dorigene alone,
Which made alway hire complaint and hire mone,
For fhe ne faw him on the dance go
That was hire hufbond and hire love alſo :
But natheles fhe muft a time abide,
And with good hope let hire forwe ſlide.
Upon this dance, amonges other men,
Danced a fquier before Dorigen
That fresher was and jolier of array,
As to my dome, than is the month of May.
He fingeth, danceth, paffing any man
That is or was fin that the world began;
Therwith he was, if men fhuld him difcrive,
On of the befte faring men on live;
Yong, ftrong, and vertuous, and riche, and wife,
And wel beloved, and holden in gret prife.
And, fhortly, if the futh I tellen hat,
Unweting of this Derigene at al,
This lufty fquier, fervant to Venus,
Which that ycleped was Aurelius,
Had loved hire beft of any creature
Two yere and more, as was his aventure,
But never dorft he tell hire his grevance:
Witbouten cup he dranke all his penance.
He was difpeired; nothing dorst he fay,
Sauf in his fonges fomewhat wold he wray
His wo, as in a general complaining;
He faid he loved and was beloved nothing,
Of fwiche matere made he many layes,
Songes, complaintes, roundels, virelayes;
How that he dorfte not his forwe telle,
But languiſheth as doth a Furie in helle;
And die he muft, he faid, as did Ecco
For Narciffus, that dorft not tell hire wo.
In other manner than ye here me ſay
Ne dorſt he not to hire his wu bewray,
Sauf that paraventure fomtime at dances,
Ther yonge folk kepen hir obſervances,
It may wel be he loked on hire face
In fwiche a wife as man that axeth grace;
But nothing wiſte the of his entent.
Natheleſs it happened or they thennes went,
Becauſe that he was hire neighbour,
And was a man of worship and honour,
And had y'knowen him of time yore,
They fell in fpeche, and forth ay more and more
Unto his purpos drew Aurelius,
And when he faw his time he faide thus:
Madame quod he, by God that this world made,
So that I wift it might your herte glade,
I wold that day that your Arviragus
Went over fee that I Aurelius.
Had went ther I fhuld never come again,
For wel I wot my fervice is in vain;
My guerdon n'is but brefting of min herte.
Madame, rueth upon my peines ſmerte,
For with a word ye may me fleen or fave.
Here at your feet God wold that I were grave,
I ne have as now no leifer more to fey:
Have mercy, fwete! or ye wol do me dey.
She gan to loke upon Aurelius:
Is this your will, (quod fhe) and fay ye thus?
Never erft (quod fhe) ne wift I what ye ment,
But now, Aurelie, I know your entent.
By thilke God that yaf me foule and lif
Ne fhai I never ben an untrew wif
In word ne werk, es fer as I have wit;
I wol ben his to whom that I am knit :
Take this for final anfwer as of me,
But after that in play thus faid fhe;
Aurelie, (quod fhe) by high God above
Yet wol I granten yo" to ben your love,
(Sin I you fee fo pitoufly complaine.)
Loke, what day that endelong Bretaigne
Ye remue all the rockes fton by fton,
That they ne letten fhip ne bote to gon;
I fay, whan he han made the coft fo clene
Of rockes that ther n'is no fton yiene,
Than wol I love you beft of any man;
Have here my trouth, in all that ever I can,
For well wote that it fhal never betide.
Let fiiche folie ont of your herte glide s
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THE FRANKELEINES TALE.
What deintee fhuld a man have in his lif
For to go love another mannes wif
That hath hire body whan that ever him liketh?
Aurelius ful often fore fiketh:
Is ther non other grace in you? quod he.
No, by that Lord, quod fhe, that maked me.
Wo was Aurelie whan that he this herd,
And with a forweful herte he thus anſwerd:
Madame, quod he, this were impoflible;
Than mofte I die of foden deth horrible.
And with that word the turned him anón.
Tho come hire other frendes many on,
And in the alleyes romed up and doun,
And nothing wift of this conclufioun,
But fodenly begonnen revel newe,
A
Til that the brighte fonne had loſt his hewe,
For the orizont had reft the fonne his light,
(This is as much to fayn as it was night)
And home they gon in mirthe and in folas,
Sauf only wrecche Aurelius, alas!
He to his hous is gon with forweful herte;
He faith he may not from his deth afterte:
Him femeth that he felt his herte cold.
Up to the heven his hondes gan he hold,
And on his knees bare he fet him doun,
And in his raving faid his orifoun.
For veray wo out of his wit he braide;
He n'ifte what he ſpake, but thus he ſaide;
With pitous herte hislaint hath he begonne
Unto the goddes, and firſt unto the Sonne.
He faid, Apollo! god and governour
Of every plante, herbe, tree, and flour,
That yeveft after thy declination
To eche of hem his time and his fefon,
As that thin herbergh changeth low and hie,
Lord Phebus! caft thy merciable eie
On wrecche Aurelie, which that am but lorne
Lo, Lord! my lady hath my deth yfworne
Withouten gilt, but thy benignitce
Upon my dedly herte have fom pitec :
For wel I wot Lord Phebus, if you left,
Ye inay me helpen fauf my lady beit.
Now voucheth fauf that I may you devife
How that I may be holpe, and in what wife.
Your blisful fufter, Lucina the fhene,
That of the fee is chief goddeffe and quene,
Though Neptunus have deiree in the fee,
Yet emperice aboven him is the:
Y knowe wel, Lord, that right as hirc defire
Is to be quicked and lighted of your fire,
For which the folweth you ful befily,
Right fo the fee defireth naturelly
To folwen hire, as fhe that is goddeffe
Both in the fee and rivers more and leffe:
Wherfore, Lord Phebus! this is my requeſt,
Do this miracle, or do min herte breſt,
That now next at this oppofition,
Which in the figne fhal be of the Leon,
As preyeth hire fo gret a flood to bring,
That five fadome at the left it overfpring
The higheft rock in Armorike Bretaigne,
And let this flood enduren yeres twaine;
Than certes to my lady may I fay,
Holdeth your heft, the rockes ben away.
Lord Phebus! this miracle doth for me,
Prey hire fhe go no fafter cours than ye:
I fay this, preyeth your fufter that ſhe go
No fafter cours than ye thiſe yeres two,
Than fhal fhe ben even at ful alway,
And fpring-flood laften bothe night and day.
And but the vouchefauf in fwiche manere
To graunten me my foveraine lady dere,
Prey hire to finken every rock adoun
Into hire owen derke regioun
Under the ground, ther Pluto dwelleth in,
Or nevermo fhal I my lady win.
Thy temple in Delphos wol I barefoot feke.
Lord Phebus! fee the teres on my cheke,
And on my peine have fom compaffioun.
And with that word in forwe he fell adoun,
And longe time he lay forth in a trance.
His brother, which that knew of his penance,
Up caught him, and to bed he hath him brought.
Difpeired in this turment and this thought
Let I this woful creature lie,
Chefe he for me whether he wol live or die.
Arviragus with hele and gret honour
(As he that was of chevalrie the flour)
Is comen home, and other worthy men:
Of blisful art thou now, thou Dorigen!
That haft thy lufty huſbond in thin armes,
The freſhe knight, the worthy man of armes,
That loveth thee as his owen hertes lif.
Nothing lift him to be imaginatif
If any wight had ſpoke while he was oute
To hire of love; he had of that no doubte:
He not entendeth to no ſwiche matere,
But danceth, juſteth, and maketh mery chere.
And thus in joye and bliffe I let him dwell,
And of the fike Aurelius wol I tell.
Er
In langour and in turment furious.
Two yere and more lay wrecched Aurelius
any foot on erthe he mighte gon;
Ne comfort in this time ne had he non
Sauf of his brother, which that was a clerk:
He knew of all this wo and all this werk;
For to non other creature certain
Of this matere he dorſte no word fain
Under his breft he bare it more fecree
Than ever did Pamphilus for Galathee.
His breft was hole withouten for to feen,
But in his herte ay was the arwe kene,
And wel ye knowe that of a furfanure
In furgerie is perilous the cure,
But men might touch the arwe or come therby,
His brother wepeth and waileth prively,
Til at the laft him fell in remembrance
That while he was at Orleaunce in France,
As yonge clerkes that ben likerous
To reden artes that ben curious
Seken in every halke and every herne
Particuler fciences for to lerne,
He him remembred that upon a day
At Orleaunce in ſtudie a book he ſay
Of magike naturel, which his felaw
That was that time a bacheler of law,
Al were he ther to ierne another craft,
Had prively upon his deſk ylaft;
THE FRANKELEINES TALE.
193
Which book pake moche of operations
Touching the eight-and-twenty manſions
That longen to the mone, and fwiche folie
As in our dayes n'is not worth a flie';
For holy churches feith, in our beleve,
Ne fuffreth non illufion us to greve.
And whan this book was in his remembrance
Anon for joye his herte gan to dance,
And to himſelf he faied prively,
My brother fhall be wariſhed haftily;
For I am fiker that ther be ſciences
By which men maken divers apperances
Swiche as thiſe fubtil tregetoures play;
For oft at feftes have I wel herd fay
That tregetoures, within an halle large,
Have made come in a water and a barge,
And in the halle rowen up and doun ;
Some time had femed com a grim leoun,
And ſomtime floures fpring as in a mede,
Somtime a vine, and grapes white and rede,
Somtime a caftel al of lime and ſton,
And whan hem liketh voideth it anon:
Thus femeth it to every mannes fight.
Now than conclude I thus; if that I might
At Orleaunce fom olde felaw find
That hath thiſfe mones manſions in mind,
Or other magike naturel above,
He fhuld wel make my brother have his love;
For with an apparence a clerk may make,
To mannes fight, that all the rockes blake
Of Bretaigne were yvoided everich on,
And ſhippes by the brinke comen and gon,
And in fwiche forme endure a day or two:
Than were my brother warefhed of his wo,
Than muſt ſhe nedes holden hire beheſt,
Or elles he fhal fiame hire at the left.
What fhuld I make a lenger Tale of this?
Unto his brothers bed he comen is,
And fwiche comfort he yaf him for to gon
To Orleaunce, that he up ftert anon,
And on his way forthward than is he fare,
In hope for to ben liffed of his care.
Whan they were come almoft to that citee,
But if it were a two furlong or three,
A yonge clerk roming by himſelf they mette,
Which that in Latine thriftily hem grette :
And after that he fayd a wonder thing;
I know, quod he, the cauſe of your coming:
And or they forther any foote went
He told hem all that was in hir entent.
This Breton clerk him axed of felawes
The which he had yknowen in olde dawes,
And he anfwered him that they dede were,
For which he wept ful often many a tere.
Doun of his hors Aurelius light anon,
And forth with this magicien is gon
Home to his hous, and made hem wel at efe:
Hem lacked no vitaille that might hem pleſe.
So wel arraied hous as ther was on
Aurelius in his lif faw never non.
He fhewed him, or they went to foupere,
Foreftes, parkes, ful of wilde dere :
Ther faw he hertes with hir hornes hie,
Tae greteft that were ever feen with eic:
He faw of hem an hundred flain with houndeş
And fom with arwes blede of bitter woundés:
He faw, when voided were the wilde dere,
Thife fauconers upon a faire rivere
That with hir haukes han the heron flain.
Tho faw he knightes juften in a plain :
And after this he did him ſwiche plefance,
That he him fhewed his lady on a dance,
On which himſelven danced, as him thought,
And whan this maiſter, that this magike wrought,
Saw it was time, he clapped his hondes two,
And farewel, al the revel is !
ago
And yet remued they never out of the hous,
While they faw all thife fightes marvellous,
But in his ftudie, ther his bookes be,
They faten ftill, and no wight but they three.
To him this maifter called his fquier,
And fayd him thus, May we go to ſouper?
Almoſt an houre it is, I undertake,
Sin I you bade our fouper for to make,
Whan that thiſe worthy men wenten with me
Into my ftudie ther my bookes be.
Sire, quod this fquier, whan it liketh you,
It is al redy, though ye wol right now.
Go we than foupe, quod he, as for the beſt;
Thife amorous folk fomtime moft han reſt.
At after fouper fell they in tretee
What fumme fhuld this maiſters guerdon be
To remue all the rockes of Bretaigne,
And eke from Gerounde to the mouth of Saine.
He made it ſtrange, and ſwore, fo God him
fave,
Leffe than a thousand pound he wold not have,
Ne gladly for that fumme he wol not gon.
Aurelius with bliſsful herte anon
Anſwered thus; Fie on a thouſand pound!
This wide world, which that men fayn is round,
I wold it yeve, if I were lord of it.
This bargaine is ful drive, for we ben knit.
Ye fhul be paied trewely, by my trouth;
But loketh, for non negligence or flouth
Ye tarie us here no lenger than to morwe.
Nay, quod this clerk, have here my faith to borwe.
To bed is gon Aurelius whan him left,
And wet nigh all that night he had his reft.
What for his labour and his hope of bliffe
His woful herte of penance had a liffe.
Upon the morwe whan that it was day
To Bretaigne token they the righte way,
Aurelie, and this magicien him befide,
And ben defcended ther they wold abide :
And this was, as the bookes me remember,
The colde frofty fefon of December.
Phebus waxe old and hewed like Laton,
That in his hote declination
Shone as the burned gold with ftremes bright;
But now in Capricorne adoun he light,
Wher as he fhone ful pale, I dare wel fain.
The bitter frofte with the fleet and rain
Deſtroyed hath the grene in every yerd;
Janus fit by the fire with double berd,
And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine;
Beforn him ftant braune of the tufked fwine,
Giiij
ร
104
THE FRANKELEINES TALE.
And Nowel crieth every lufty man.
Aurelius in all that ever he can
Doth to his maifter there and reverence,
And praieth him to don his diligence
To bringen him out of his peines finerte,
Or with a fwerd that he wold flit his herté,
This fotil clerk fwiche routh hath on this man,
That night and day he fpedeth him that he can
To wait a time of his conclufion;
This is to fayn, to make illufion,
By fwiche an apparence or joglerie,
(I can no termes of aftrologie)
That ſhe and every wight fhuld wene and fay
That of Bretaigne the rockes were away,
Or elles they were fonken under ground.
So at the laſt he hath his time yfound
To make his japes and his wretchedneffe
Of ſwiche a fuperftitious curſedneſſe.
His tables Toletanes forth he brought,
Ful wel corrected, that ther lacked nought,
Nother his collect ne his expans yeṛés,
Nother his rotes ne his other geres,
As bén his centres and his argumentes,
And his proportionel convenientes,
For his equations in every thing :
And by his eighte fperes in his werking
He knew ful wel how fer Alnath was fhove
Fro the hed of thilke fix Aries above
That in the ninthe fpere confidered is :
Ful fotilly he calculed all this.
Whan he had found his firfte manſion
He knew the remenant by proportion,
And knew the rifing of his mone wel,
And in whos face, and terme, and every del
And knew ful wel the mones manfion
Accordant to his operation;
And knew alfo his other obfervances,
For fwiche illufions and fwiche mèfchances
As Hethen folke ufed in thilke daies;
For which no léngér maketh he delaies,
But thurgh his magike, for a day or tway,
It ſeemed all the rockès were away.
Aurelius, which that defpeired is
Whether he fhal han his love or fare amis,
Awaiteth night and day on this miracle;
And whan he knew that ther was non obftacle,
That voided were thife rockes everich on,
Doun to his maifteres feet he fell anon,
And fayd, I, woful wretch Aurelius,
Thanke you, my lord, and lady min Venus,
That me han holpen fro my cares cold,
And to the temple his way forth hath he hold,
Theras he knew he fhuld his lady fee;
And whan he faw his time anon right he
With dredful herte and with ful humble chere
Salued hath his foveraine lady dere.
My rightful Lady, quod this woful man,
Whom I moft drede and love as I beft can,
And lotheft were of all this world difplefe,
Ne're it that I for you have fwiche difefe
That I muft die here at your foot anen,
Nought wold I tell how me is wo begon;
But certes other muft 1 die or plaine;
Yelle me gilteles for veray pelas :
have hight;
But of my deth though that ye han no routh
Avifeth you or that you breke your trouth:
Repenteth you, for thilke God above,
Or ye me fle, becaufe that I you love:
For, Madame, wel ye wote what ye
Not that I chalenge any thing of right
Of you my foveraine Lady, but of grace;
But in a garden yond, in fwiche a place,
Ye wote right wel what ye behighten me,
And in myn hond your trouthe plighten ye
To love me beft: God wote ye faied fo,
Although that I unworthy be therto.
Madame, I fpeke it for the honour of you,
More than to fave my hertes lif right now,
I have don fo as ye commanded me,
And if ye vouchefauf ye may go fee.
Doth as you lift, have your beheft in mind,
For quick or ded right ther ye fhul me find.
you lith all to do me live or dey,
But wel I wote the rockes ben awey.
In
He taketh his leve, and fhe aftonicd ftood;
In all hire face n'as o drope of blood:
She wened never han come in fwiche a trappe.
Alas! quod fhe, that ever this ſhould happe!
For wend I never by poffibilitce
That fwiche a monftre or mervaille might be ;
It is again the proceffe of Nature.
And home ſhe goth a forweful creature;
For veray fere unnethes may fhe go.
She wepeth, waileth, all a day or two,
And fwouneth that it routhe was to fee,
But why it was to no wight tolde ſhe,
For out of toun was gon Arviragus;
But to hircfelf fhe fpake, and faied thus,
With face pale, and with ful fory chere,
In hire complaint, as ye hul after here.
Alas! quod fhe, on thee, Fortune, I plain,
That unaware haft me wrapped in thy chain,
Fro which to eſcapen wote I no foccour
Sauf only deth or 'clles difhonour :
On of thife two behoveth me to chefe.!
But natheles, yet had I a lever lefe
My life than of my body have a fhame,
Or know myfelven falfe, or lefe my name :
And with my deth I may be quit ywis;
Hath ther not many a noble wif or this,
And many a maid, yflaine hirefelf, alas!
Rather than with hire body don trefpas?
Yes certes; lo, thife ftories bere witneffe.
Whan thirty tyrants ful of curſedneffe
Had flain Phidon in Athens at the feft,
They commanded his doughtren for to arreft
And bringen hem beforne him defpit
Al naked, to fulfil hire foule delit;
And in hir fadres blood they made hem dance
Upon the pavement, God yeve hem mefchance!
For which thife woful maidens, ful of drede,
Rather than they wold lefe hir maidenhede,
They prively ben ftert into a welle,
And dreint hemfelven, as the bookes telle.
They of Mellene let cnquere and feke
Of Lacedomie fifty maidens eke
On which the wolden don hir lecherie;
But ther was non of all that compagnie
THE FRANKELEINES TALE.
IOS
That fe n'as flaine, and with a glad entent
Chees rather for to dien than affent
To ben oppreffed of hire maidenhede.
Why fhuld I than to dein ben in drede?
Lo cke the tyrant Ariftoclides,
That loved a maid hight Stimphalides,
Whan that hire father flaine was on a night,
Unto Dianes temple goth fhe right,
And hente the image in hire handes two,
Fro which image wold fhe never go;
No wight her handes might it of it arrace
Til fhe was flaine right in the felve place.
Now fin that maidens hadden fwiche deſpit
To be defouled with mannes foule delit,
Wel ought a wif rather hircfelven fle
Than be defouled, as it thinketh me.
What fhal I fayn of Hafdrubales wif,
That at Cartage beraft hireſelf hire lif?
For whan the faw that Romains wan the toun,
She toke hire children all, and ſkipt adoun
Into the fire, and chees rather to die
Than any Romain did hire valanie,
Hath not Lucrece yflaine hirefelf, alas!
At Rome, whan that the oppreſſed was
Of Tarquine? for hire thought it was a fhame
To liven whan fhe hadde loft hire name.
The feven maidens of Milefie alſo
Han flaine hemfelf, for veray drede and wo,
Rather than folk of Gaule hem fhuld oppreffe.
Mo than a thoufand ftories, as I geffe,
Coude I now tell as touching this matere.
Whan Abradate was flain, his wif fo dere
Hirefelven flow, and let hire blood to glide
In Abradates woundes depe and wide,
And fayd, My body at the lefte way
Ther fhal no wight defoulen if I may.
What fhuld I mo enfamples hereof ſain?
Sin that ſo many han hemſelven flain,
Wel rather than they wold defouled be,
I wol conclude that it is bet for me
To fle myſelf than be defouled thus :
I wol be trewe unto Arviragus,
Or elles fle myſelf in fome manere,
As Did Demotiones doughter dere,
Becauſe the wolde not defouled be.
O Şedafus! it is ful gret pitee
To reden how thy doughtren died, alas!
That flowe hemfelven for fwiche maner cas.
As gret a pitee was it, or wel more,
The Theban maiden that for Nichanore
Hirefelven flow right for fwiche menere wo.
Another Theban mayden did right fo,
For on of Macedoine had hire oppreſſed;
She with hire deth hire maidenhed redreffed.
What fhal I fain of Nicerates wif,
That for fwiche cas bereft hirefclf hire lif?
How trewe was eke to Alcibiades
His love, that for to dien rather chees
Than for to fuffre his body unburied be?
Lo, which a wif was Alcefte eke? (quod fhe)
What fayth Homere of good Penelope ?
All Greece knoweth of hire chaftitee.
Parde of Laodomia is wretten thus,
That whan at Troye was flain Prothefilaus
No lenger wolde fhe live after his day.
The fame of noble Portia tell I may ;
Withouten Brutus coude fhe not live,
To whom she had all whole hire herte yeve.
The parfit wifhood of Artemifie
Honoured is thurghout all Barbarie.
O Teuta quene! thy wifly challitee
To alle wives may a mirrour be.
Thus plained Dorigene a day or twey,
Purpoûng ever that ſhe wolde dey;
But natheles upon the thridde night
Home came Arviragus, the worthy knight,
And axed hire why that fhe weep ſo fore?
And the gan wepen ever lenger the more.
Alas, quod fhe, that ever I was yborne !
Thus have I ſaid, (quod fhe) thus have I fworne,
And told him all, as ye have herd before :
It nedeth not reherſe it you no more.
This huſbond with glad chere, in frendly wife,
Anfwerd and fayd as I fhal you devife;
Is ther ought elles, Dorigene, but this?
Nay, nay, quod fhe, God, helpe me fo, as wis
This is to inuch, and it were Goddes will.
Ye, wif, quod he, let flepen that is ſtill;
It may be wel paraventure yet to-day.
Ye ihal your trouthe holden by my fay;
For God fo wifly have mercy on me,
I had wel lever fliked for to be,
For veray love which that I to you have,
But if ye fhuld your trouthe kepe and fave:
Trouth is the hieſt thing that man may kepe.
But with that word he braft anon to wepe,
And fayd; I you forbede, on peine of deth,
That never while you lafteth lif or breth
To no wight tell ye this mifaventure;
As I may beſt I wol my wo endure:
Ne make no contenance of hevineffe,
That folk of you may demen harme or geffe.
And forth he cleped a ſquier and a maid.
Goth forth anon with Dorigene, he ſaid,
And bringeth hire to ſwiche a place anon.
They take hir leve, and on hir way they gon
But they ne wiſten why ſhe thider went;
She n'olde no wight tellen hire entent.
This fquier which that highte Aurelius,
On Dorigene that was fo amorous,
Of aventure happed hire to mete
Amid the toun, right in the quickeſt ftrete,
As ſhe was boun to go the way forthright
Toward the gardin, ther as fhe had hight;
And he was to the gardinward alſo,
For wel he fpied whan fhe wolde go
Out of hire hous to any maner place:
But thus they met of aventure or grace,
And he falueth hire with glad entent,
And axeth of hire whiderward fhe went.
And the anſwered half as fhe were mad,
Unto the gardin, as myn hufbond bad,
My trouthe for to hold, alas! alas!
Aurelius gan wondren on this cas,
And in his herte had gret compaffion
Of hire, and of hire lamentation,
And of Arviragus, the worthy knight,
That bad hire holden all that the had hight,
106
THE FRANKELEINES TALE.
So loth him was his wif fhuld breke hire trouthe;
And in his herte he caught of it gret routhe,
Confidering the beſt on every fide,
That fro his luft yet were him lever abide
Than do fo high a cherliſh wretchedneffe
Ageins fraunchife and alle gentilleffe
For which in few wordes fayd he thus:
Madame, fay to your Lord Arviragus
That fin I ſee the grete gentilleſſe
Of him, and eke I fee wel your diftreffe,
That him were lever have fhame (and that were
routhc)
you two.
Than ye to me fhuld breken thus your trouthe,
I hadde wel·lever ever to fuffren wo
Than to depart the love betwix
1 you relefc, Madamc; into your hond
Quit every feurement and every bond
That ye han made to me as herebcforne
Sin thilke time that ye were yborne.
Have here my trouthe, I fhal you never repreve
Of no beheft; and here I take my leve
As of the treweft and the befte wif
That ever yet I knew in all my lif
But every wif beware of hire beheft
On Dorigene remembreth at the left.
Thus can a fquier don a gentil dede
As wel as can a knight, withouten drede.
She thanketh him upon hire knees bare,
And home unto hire hufbond is fhe fare,
And told him all as ye han herd me fayd;
And, trufteth me, he was fo wel apayd
That it were impoffible me to write.
What fhuld I lenger of this cas endite?
Arviragus and Dorigene his wif
In foveraine bliffe leden forth hir lif,
Never eft ne was ther anger hem betwene;
He cheriſhed hire as though fhe were a quene,
And the was to him trewe for evermore.
Of thiſe two folk ye get of me no more.
Aurelius, that his coft hath all forlorne,
Curfeth the time that ever he was borne.
Alas! quod he, alas that I behight
Of pured gold a thouſand pound of wight
Unto this philofophre! how fhal I do?
I fee no more but that I am fordo.
Min heritage mote 1 nedes fell,
And ben a beggar here I n'ill not dwell,
And fhamen all my kinrede in this place,
But I of him may geten better grace:
But natheles I wol of him affay
At certain daies yere by yere to pay,
And thanke him of his grete curtefie.
My trouthe wol I kepe, I wol not lie.
With herte fore he goth unto his cofre,
And broughte gold unto this philfophre,
The value of five hundred pound I geffe,
And him befecheth of his gentilleffe
To graunt him daies of the remenaunt,
And fayde; Maifter, I dare wel make avaunt
I failled never of my trouthe as yet;
For fikerly my dette fhal be be quit
Towardes you, how ſo that ever I fare
To gon a begging in my kirtle bare:
But wold ye vouchen fauf upon feurtee
Two yere or three for to refpiten me,
Than were I wel, for elles mote I fell
Min heritage; ther is no more to tell.
This philofophre fobrely anſwerd,
And faied thus, whan he thife wordes herd;
Have I not holden covenant to thee?
;
Yes, certes, wel and trewely, quod he.
Haft thou not had thy lady as thee liketh?
No, no, quod he, and forwefully he fiketh.
What was the cauſe? tell me if thou can.
Aurelius his tale anon began,
And told him all as ye han herd before
It nedeth not reherſe it any more.
He fayd, Arviragus of gentilleffe
Had lever die in forwe and in diftreffe
Than that his wif were of hire trouthe fals.
The forwe of Dorigene he told him als,
How loth hire was to ben a wicked wif,
And that ſhe lever had loſt that day hire lif;
And that her trouth fhe fwore thurgh innocence;
She never erft hadde herd fpeke of apparence:
That made me han of hire fo gret pitee,
And right as freely as he ſent hire to me
As freely fent I hire to him again.
This is all and fom; ther n'is no more to fain.
The philofophre anſwerd; Leve brothre,
Everich of you did gentilly to other;
Thou art a fquier, and he is a knight,
But God forbede, for his blifsful might,
But if a clerk could don a gentil dede
As wel as any of you, it is no drede.
Sire, I relefe thee thy thouſand pound,
As thou right now were crope out of the ground,
Ne never er now ne haddeft knowen me :
For, Sire, I wol not take a peny of thee
For all my craft, ne nought for my travaille :
Thou haft ypaied wel for my vitaille.
It is ynough, and farewel, have good day.
And toke his hors, and forth he goth his way.
Lordings, this queſtion wold I axen now,
Which was the mofte free, as thinketh you?
Now telleth me or that ye further wende,
I can no more, my Tale is at an ende,
THE DOCTOURES PROLOGUE.
ΙΟΥ
THE DOCTOURES PROLOGUE.
YE, let that paffen, quod our Hofte, as now.
Sire Doctour of Phyfike, I prey you,
'Tell us a Tale of fom honeft matere,
It ſhal be don, if that ye wol it here,
Said this Doctour, and his Tale began anon.
Now, good men, quod he, herkeneth everich on.
1
THE DOCTOURES TALE*.
THER was, as telleth Titus Livius,
A knight that cleped was Virginius,
Fulfilled of honour and worthineffe,
And ſtrong of frendes, and of gret richeffe.
This knight a doughter hadde by his wif;
No children had he mo in all his lif.
Faire was this maid in excellent beautee
Aboven every wight that man may fee,
For Nature hath with foveraine diligence
Yformed hire in fo
gret excellence
As though the wolde fayn, Lo, I Nature,
Thus can I forme and peint a creature,
Whan that me lift: who can me coutrefete?
Pigmalion? not though he ay forge and bete,
Or
grave, or peinte; for I dare wel fain
Apelles, Xeuxis, fhulden werche in vain
Other to grave, or peinte, or forge, or bete,
If they prefumed me to countrefete :
For he that is the former principal
Hath maked me his vicaire general
To forme and peinten earthly creatures
Right as we lift; and eche thing in my cure is
Under the mone that may wane and waxe;
And for my werk right nothing wol I axe :
My lord and I ben ful of on accord;
I made hire to the worſhip of my lord,
/
So do I all min other creatures,
What colour that they han or what figures.
Thus femeth me that Nature wolde ſay.
This maid of age twelf yere was and tway
In which that nature hadde fwiche delit;
;
For right as fhe can peint a lily whit
And red a rofe, right with ſwiche peinture
She peinted hath this noble creature
Er fhe was borne upon hire limmes free,
Wheras by right fwiche colours fhulden be;
And Phebus died hath hire treſſes grete
Like to the ftremes of his burned hete.
And if that excellent were hire beautee,
A thoufand fold more vertuous was fhe.
In hire ne lacked no condition
That is to preiſe, as by diſcretion.
As wel in goft as body chaft was fhe,
For which the floured in virginitee
With all humilitee and abftinence,
With all attemperance and patience,
With meaſure eke of bering and array.
Difcrete fhe was in anfwering alway,
Though fhe were wife as Pallas, dare I fain,
Hire facounde eke ful womanly and plain :
No countrefeted terms hadde fhe
To femen wife, but after hire degree
She fpake, and all hire werdes more and leffe
* Virginius layeth his only daughter rather than the Souning in vertue and in gentilleffe.
hall be defiled by the let cherous judge Appius. St.
4
108
THE
DOCTOURES TALE.
1
Shamefaft fhe was in maidens fhamefaſtneffe,
Conftant in herte out of idel befineffe
To drive hire out of idel flogardie.
Bacchus had of hire mouth right no maiſtrie,
For wine and youthe don Venus encrefe,
As men in fire wol caften oile and grefe.
And of hire owen vertue unconftreined
She hath hirefelf ful often fike yfeined,
For that ſhe wolde fleen the compagnie
Wher likely was to treten of folie,
As is at feftes, at revels, and at dances
That ben occafions of daliances.
Swiche thinges maken children for to be
To fone ripe and bold, as men may ſee,
Which is ful perilous, and hath ben yore;
For al to fone may the lernen lore
Of boldneffe whan fhe woxen is a wif.
And ye maiftreffes in your olde lif,
That lordes doughters han in governance,
Ne taketh of my wordes difplefance:
Thinketh that ye ben fet in governinges
Of lordes doughters only for two thinges,
Other for ye han kept your honeftee,
Or elles for ye han fallen in freeltee,
And knowen wel ynough the olde dance,
And han forfaken fully fwiche mefchance
For evermo; therefore for Chriftes fake
To teche hem vertue loke that ye ne flake.
A theef of veniſon, that hath forlaft
His likeroufneffe and all his olde craft,
Can kepe a foreft beft of any man :
Now kepeth hem wel, for if ye wol ye can.
Loke wel that unto no vice affent,
Left ye be damned for your wikke entent,
For who fo doth a traytour is certain:
And taketh kepe of that I fhal you fain;
Of alle trefon foveraine peftilence
Is whan a wight betrayeth innocence.
Ye fathers, and ye mothers eke alſo,
Though ye han children, be it on or mo,
Your is the charge of all hir furveance,
While that they ben under your governance :
Beth ware that by enfample of your living.
Or by your negligence in chaſtiſing,
That they ne perish, for I dare wel faye
If that they don ye fhul it dere abeye.
Under a fhepherd foft and negligent
The wolf hath many a fhepe and lamb to-rent,
Sufficeth this cnfample now as here,
For I mote turne agen to my matere.
This maid, of which I tell my Tale expreffe,
She kept hirefelf, hire neded no maiſtreſſe,
For in hire living maidens mighten rede,
As in a book, every good word and dede
That longeth to a maiden vertuous:
She was fo prudent and fo bounteous,
For which the fame out fprong on every fide
Both of hire beautee and hire bountee wide,
That thurgh the lond they preiſed hire ech one
That loved vertue, fauf Envie alone,
That fory is of other mannes wele,
And glad is of his forwe and his unhele.
The Doctour maketh this defcriptioun.
This maiden on a day went in the toun
Toward a temple, with hire mother dere,
As is of young maidens the manere.
Now was ther than a juſtice in that toan
That governour was of that regioun;
And fo befell this juge his eyen caſt
Upon this maid, aviſing hire ful faſt
As the came forth by ther this juge ftaad:
Anon his his herte changed and his mood,
So was he caught with beautee of this maid,
And to himſelf ful prively he ſaid,
This maiden fhal be min for any man.
Anon the fend into his herte ran,
And taught him fodenly that he by fleight
This maiden to his purpos winnen might;
For certes by no force ne by no mede
Him thought the was not able for to fpede;
For ſhe was ſtrong of frendes, end eke the
Confermed was in fwiche foveraine bountee
That wel he wiſt he might hire never winne
As for to make hire with hire body finne:
For which with gret deliberatioun
He fent after a cherl was in the toun,
The which he knew for fotil and for bold.
This juge unto this cherl his tale hath told
In fecree wife, and made him to enſure
He fhulde tell it to no creature,
And if he did he fhulde lefe his hede.
And whan affented was this curfed rede,
Glad was the juge, and maked him gret chere,
And yaf him yeftes precious and dere
Whan fhapen was all hir confpiracie
Fro point to point, how that his lecheric
Parformed fhulde be ful fotilly,
As ye fhul here it after openly,
Home goth this cherl, that highte Claudius;
This falſe juge, that highte Appius,
(So was his name, for it is no fable,
But knowen for an hiftorial thing notable;
The ſentence of it ſoth is out of doute)
This falfe juge goth now faft aboute
To haften his delit all that he may.
And fo befell, fone after on a day
This falfe juge, as telleth us the ſtorie,
As he was wont, fat in his confiſtorie,
And yaf his domes upon fondry cas,
This falfe cherl came forth a ful gret pas,
And faide; Lord, if that it be your will.
As doth me right upon this pitous bill,
In which I plaine upon Virginius;
And if that he wol fayn it is not thus,
I wol it preve, and finden good witnefle
That foth is that my bille wol expreffe.
The juge anfwerd, Of this in his abfence
I may not yeve diffinitif fentence.
Let don him call, and I wol gladly here:
Thou shalt have right and wrong as now here.
Virginius came to wete the juges will,
And right anon was red this curſed bill ;
The fentence of it was as ye fhul here.
To you my Lord Sire Appius fo dere
Sheweth your poure fervant Claudius
How that a knight called Virginius
Agein the lawe, agein all equitee,
Holdeth, expreffe agein the will of me
THE DOCTOURES TALE.
309
My fervant which that is my thral by right,
Which from min hous was stolen on a night
While that ſhe was ful yong; I wol it preve
By witneffe, Lord, fo that it you not greve :
She n'is his doughter nought, what ſo he ſay;
Wherfore to you, my Lord the juge, I pray;
Yeld me my thral, if that it be your will.
Lo, this was all the fentence of his bill.
Virginius gan upon the cherl behold;
But haftily er he his tale told,
And wold han preved it as fhuld a knight,
And eke by witneffing of many a wight
That all was falfe that faid his adverfary,
This curfed juge wolde nothing tary,
Ne here a word more of Virginius,
But yave his jugement, and faide thus:
I deme anon this cherl'his fervant have;
Thou shalt no lenger in thin hous hire fave;
Go bring hire forth, and put hire in our ward:
The cherl fhal have his thral; thus I award.
And whan this worthy knight Virginius,
Thurgh fentence of this juftice Appius,
Mufte by force his dere doughter yeven
Unto the juge, in lecherie to liven,
He goth him home, and fet him in his hall,
And let anon his dere doughter call;
And with a face ded as afhen cold
Upon hire humble face he gan behold,
With fadres pitee ftiking thurgh his herte,
Al wold he from his purpos not converte,
Doughter, quod he, Virginia by thy name,
Ther ben two waies, other deth or fhame,
That thou muft fuffre, alas that I was bore!
For never thou defervedeft wherfore
To dien with a fwerd or with a knif.
O dere doughter, ender of my lif!
Which I have foftred up with fwiche plefance
That thou were never out of my remembrance;
O doughter which that art my laſte wo,
And in my lif my laſte joye alfo;
O gemme of chaſtitee! in patience
'Take thou thy deth, for this is my fentence;
For love and not for hate thou must be ded;
My pitous hond muſt ſmiten of thin hed.
Alas that ever Appius thee fay!
Thus hath he falfely judged thee to-day.
And told hire all the cas, as ye before
Han herd; it needeth not to tell it more.
O mercy, dere father! quod this maid.
And with that word fhe both hire armes laid
About his necke, as ſhe was wont to do,
(The teres braft out of his 'eyen two)
And faid, O goode father ſhal I die?
Is ther no grace? is ther no remedie?
No certes, dere doughter min ! quod he.
Than yeve me leifer, father min quod fhe,
My deth for to complaine a litel ſpace;
For parde Jepte yave his doughter grace
For to complaine or he hire flow, alas!
And God it wot nothing was hire trefpas,
But for fhe ran hire father firſt to fee,
To welcome him with gret folempnitee.
And with that word ſhe fell afwoun anon,
And after, whan hire fwouning was agon,
She rifeth up, and to hire father faid;
Bleffed be God that I fhal die a maid!
Yeve me my deth or that I have a ſhame ;
Doth with your child your wille a Goddes name.
And with that word the praied him ful oft
That with his fwerd he wolde fmite hire foft
And with that word afwoune again fhe fell.
Hire father, with ful Torweful herte and will
Hire hed of fmote, and by the top it hent,
And to the juge he gan it to prefent,
As he fat yet in dome in confiftorie.
And whan the juge it faw, as faith the ftorie
He bad to take him and anhang him faft:
But right anon a thouſand peple in thraſt
To fave the knight for routh and for pitee,
For knowen was the falfe iniquitee.
The peple anon had fufpect in this thing,
By maner of the cherles chalenging,
That it was by the affent of Appius
They wisten well that he was lecherous:
For which unto this Appius they gon,
And cafte him in a prifon right anon,
Whereas he flow himſelf; and Claudius,
That fervant was unto this Appius,
Was demed for to hang upon a tree,
But that Virginius of his pitee
So prayed for him that he was exiled,
And elles certes had he ben beguiled;
The remenant were anhanged, more and leffe,
That were confentant of this curfedneffe.
Here men may fee how fin hath his merite;
Beth were, for no man wot whom God wol finit
In no degree, ne in which maner wiſe
The worme of confcience may agrife
Of wicked lif, though it fo privee be
That no man wote therof fauf God and he
For be he lewed man or elles lered
He n'ot how fone that he fhal ben afered
Therfore I rede you this confeil take.
Forfaketh finne or finne you forfake.:
+
II.
THE PARDONERES PROLOGUE.
[
THE PARDONERES PROLOGUE.
OUR Hofte gan to fwere as he were wood,
Harrow! (quod he) by nailes and by blood
This was a falfe cherl and a falfe juftice.
As ſhameful deth as herte can divife
Come to thiſe juges and hir advocas.
Algate this fely maide is flain, alas!
Alas! to dere abought ſhe hire beautee;
Wherfore I ſay that all day man may ſee
That yeftes of Fortune and of Nature
Ben cauſe of deth to many a creature.
Hire beautee was hire deth, I dare wel fain:
Alas! fo pitoufly as ſhe was flain:
Of bothe yeftes that I fpéke of now
Men han ful often more for harm than prow.
But trewely, min owen maiſter dere,
This was a pitous Tale for to here;
But natheles paffe over is no force.
I pray to God to fave thy gentil corps,
And eke thyn urinals and thy jordanes,
Thin Ypocras, and eke thy Galianes,
And every boift ful of thy letuarie
God bleſſe hem and our Lady Seint Marie.
So mote I the thou art a propre man,
And like a prelat, by Seint Ronian.
Said I not wel? I cannot fpeke in terme;
But wel I wot thou doſt min herte to erme;
That I have almoſt caught a cardiacle :
By corpus Domini but I have triacle,
Or elles a draught of moiſt and corny ale,
Or but I here anon a mery Tale,
Myn herte is loft for pitee of this maid.
Thou bel amy, thou Pardoner he ſaid,
Tel us fom mirth of japes right anon.
It fhal be don, quod he, by Seint Ronion.
But first (quod he) here at this ale-ſtake
I wol both drinke and biten on a cake.
But right anon thiſe gentiles gan to crie;
Nay, let him tell us of no ribaudrie:
Tell us fom moral thing, that we mow lere
Som wit, and thanne wol we gladly here.
I graunte ywis, quod he; but I muſt thinke
Upon fom honeft thing while that I drinke.
THE PARDONERES TALE*.
LORDINGS, quod he, in chirche whan I preche,
I peine me to have an hautein fpeche,
And ring it out as round as goth a bell,
For I can all by rote that I tell.
My teme is alway on, and ever was,
Radix malorum eft cupiditas.
Firſt I pronounce whennes that I come,
And than my bulles fhew 1 alle and fome:
Our liege lordes fele on my patente
That flew I firſt, my body to warrente,
That no man be fo bold, ne preeſt ne clerk,
Me to diſturbe of Criftes holy werk:
A company of riotors confpire to kill Death, who
Billeth them one after another." Speight.,
And after that than tell I forth my tales.
Bulles of popes and of cardinales,
Of patriarkes and bishoppes, I fhewe,
And in Latin I fpeke a wordes fewe
To faffron with my predication,
And for to ftere men to devotion:
Than fhew I forth my longe criſtal ſtones,
Ycrammed ful of cloutes and of bones;
Relikes they ben, as wenen they echon.
Than have I in laton a fhulder bone
Which that was of an holy lewes fhepe.
Good men, fay I, take of my wordes kepe
If that this bone be wafhe in any well,
If cow, or calf, or thepe, or oxe, fwell
THE PARDONEKES TALE.
iji
1
A
That any worm hath ete, or worm yftonge,
Take water of that well and waſh his tonge,
And it is hole anon; and forthermore,
Of pockes and of ſcab, and every fore,
Shal every fhepe be hole that of this well
Drinketh a draught: take kepe of that I tell.
If that the good man that the beftes oweth
Wol every weke, er that the cok him croweth,
Fafting ydrinken of this well a draught,
As thilke holy Jew our eldres taught,
His beftes and his ſtore fhal multiplie :
And, Sires, alfo it heleth jaloufie ;
For though a man be falle in jalous rage,
Let maken with this water his potage,
And never fhal he more his wif miftrift,
Though he the foth of hire defaute wiſt,
Al had he taken preeftes two or three.
Here is a mitaine eke that ye may fee:
He that his hand wol put in this mitaine
He fhal have multiplying of his graine,
Whan he hath fowen, be it whete or otes,
So that he offer pens or elles grotes.
And men and women, o thing warne I you;
If any wight be in this chirche now
That hath don finne horrible, ſo that he
Dare not for fhame of it yfhriven be;
Or any woman, be fhe yong or old,
'That hath ymade hire hufbond cokewold,
Swiche folk hul han no power ne no grace
To offer to my relikes in this place :
And who fo findeth him out of ſwiche blame
He wol come up and offer in Goddes name,
And I affoyle him by the auctoritee
Which that by bulle ygranted was to me.
By this gaude have I wonnen yere by yere
An hundred mark fin I was Pardonere.
1 ftonde like a clerk in my pulpet,
And whan the lewed peple is doun yſet
I preche fo as ye han herd before,
And tell an hundred falfe japes more:
Than peine I me to ftretchen forth my necke,
And eft and weft upon the peple I becke,
As doth a dove fitting upon a berne:
Myn hondes and my tonge gon fo yerne,
That it is joye to fee my beûneffe.
Of avarice and fwiche curfedneffe
Is all my preching, for to make hein free
To yeve hir pens, and namely unto me;
For min entente is not but for to winne,
And nothing for correction of finne :
I recke never whan that they be beried
Though that hir foules gon a blake beried.
For certes many a predication
Cometh oft time of evil cntention;
Som for plefance of folk and flaterie,
To ben avanced by hypocrific;
And fom for vaine glorie, and fom for hate :
For whan I dare non other wayes debate,
Than wol I fting him with my tonge fmerte
In preching, fo that he fhal not afterte
To ben defamed falſely, if that he
Hath trefpafed to my brethren or to me :
For though I telle not his propre name,
Men fhal wel knowen that it is the fame
By fignes, and by other circumftances.
Thus quite I folk that don us difplefances,
Thus fpit I out my venime under hewe
Of holineffe, to feme holy and trewe.
But fhortly min entente I wol devife;
I preche of nothing but for covetiſe,
Therfore my teme is yet, and ever was,
Radix malorum eft cupiditas.
Thus can I preche again the fame vice
Which that I ufe, and that is avarice.
But though myſelf be gilty in that finne,
Yet can I maken other folk to twinne
From avarice, and fore hem to repente;
But that is not my principal entente :
I preche nothing but for covetife.
Of this matere it ought ynough ſuffiſe.
Than tell I hem enfamples many on
Of olde ftories longe time agon,
For lewed peple loven tales olde;
Swiche thinges can they wel report and holde,
What? trowen ye that whiles I may preche
And winnen gold and filver for I teche,
That I wol live in poverte wilfully?
Nay, nay; I thought it never trewely:
For I wol preche and beg in fondry londes,
I wol not do no labour with min hondes,
Ne make baſkettes for to live therby,
Becauſe I wol not beggen idelly.
:
I wol non of the apoſtles contrefete;
I wol have money, wolle, chefe, and whete,
Al were it yeven of the poureft page,
Or of the poureft widewe in a village,
Al fhulde hire children fterven for famine:
Nay, I wol drinke the licour of the vine,
And have a joly wenche in every toun.
But herkeneth, Lordings, in conclufioun,
Your liking is that I fhall tell a Tale.
Now I have dronke a draught of corny ale,
By God I hope I fhal you tell a thing
That fhal by refon ben at your liking;
For though myſelf be a ful vicious man,
A moral Tale yet I you tellen can,
Which I am wont to prechen for to winne.
Now hold your pees, my Tale I wol beginne.
In Flandres whilom was a compagnic
Of yonge folk that haunteden folie,
As hazard, riot, ftewes, and tavernes,
Wheras with harpes, lutes, and giternes,
They dance and plaie at dis bothe day and night,
And ete alfo and drinke over hir might,
Thurgh which they don the devil facrifice,
Within the devils temple, in curſed wife,
By fuperfluitee abhominable.
Hir othes ben fo gret and fo damnable
That it is grifly for to here hem fwere.
Our blisful Lordes body they to-tere ;
Hem thought the Jewes rent him not ynough;
And eche of hem at others finne lough.
And right anon in comen tombeſteres
Fetis and finale, and yonge fruitefteres,
Singers with harpes, baudes, wafereres,
Which ben the veray devils officeres,
To kindle and blow the fire of lecherie,
That is annexed unto glutonic,
112
THE PARDONERES TALE.
The holy writ take I to my witneſſe
That luxurie is in wine and dronkeneffe.
Lo, how that dronken Loth unkindely
Lay by his daughters two unwetingly;
So dronke he was he n'iſte what he wrought.
Herodes, who fo wel the ftories fought,
Whan he of wine replete was at his fefte,
Right at his owen table he yave his heſte
To fleen the Baptift John ful gilteles.
Seneca faith a good word douteles;
He faith he can no difference find
Betwix a man that is out of his mind
And a man whiche that is dronkelew;
But that woodneffe, yfallen in a fhrew,
Perfevereth lenger than doth dronkeneffe.
O glotonic! full of curfedneffe,
O caufe firft of our confufion!
O original of our damnation!
Til Criſt had bought us with his blood again :
Loketh how dere, fhortly for to fain,
Abought was thilke curfed vilanie:
Corrupt was all this world for glotonie.
Adam our father, and his wif alfo,
Fro Paradis to labour and to wo
Were driven for that vice, it is no drede;
For while that Adamı faſted, as I rede,
He was in Paradis, and whan that he
Ete of the fruit defended on a tree,
Anon he was out caft to wo and peine.
O glotonie! on thee wel ought us plaine.
O! wift a man how many maladies
Folwen of exceffe and of glotonies,
He wolde ben the more mefurable
Of his diete, fitting at his table.
Alas! the fhorte throte, the tendre mouth,
Maketh that eſt and weft, and north and ſouth,
In erthe, in air, in water, men to fwinke
To gete a gloten deintee mete and drinke.
Of this matere, O Poule! wel canft thou trete;
Mete unto wombe, and wombe eke unto mete,
Shal God deftroien bothe, as Paulus faith.
Alas! a foule thing is it by my faith,
To ſay this word, and fouler is the dede,
Whan man fo drinketh of the white and rede
That of his throte he maketh his privee
Thurgh thilke curfed fuperfluitee.
The apoftle faith weping ful pitously,
Ther walken many of which you told have I;
I ſay it now weping with pitous vois
That they ben enemies of Criftes crois,
Of whiche the end is deth; womb is hir God:
O wombe, o belly! ftinking is thy cod,
Fulfilled of dong and of corruptioun ;
At either end of thee foule is the foun.
How gret labour and cost is thee to find!
Thiſe cokes how they ſtamp, and ſtreine, andgrind,
And turnen ſubſtance into accident,
To fulfill all thy likerous talent!
Out of the hardy bones knocken they
The mary, for they caften nought away
That may go thurgh the gullet foft and fote:
Of ſpicerie, of leef, of barke, and rote,
Shal ben his faufe ymaked, by delit
To make him yet a newer appetit ;
But certes he that haunteth fwiche delices
Is ded while that he liveth in tho vices.
A lecherous thing is wine, and dronkeneſſe
Is ful of ftriving and of wretchedneffe.
O dronken man! disfigured is thy face,
Sour is thy breth, foul art thou to enbrace,
And thurgh thy dronken nofe femeth the foun
As though thou faideft ay Sampfoun! Sampfoun!
And yet, God wot, Sampfoun dronk never no wincj
Thou faleft as it were a ftiked fwine
;
Thy tonge is loft, and all thin honeſt cure,
For dronkencffe is veray fepulture
Of mannes wit and his difcretion.
In whom that drinke hath domination.
He can no confeil kepe, it is no drede.
Now kepe you fro the white and fro the rede,
And namely fro the white wine of Lepe,
That is to fell in Fifaftrcte and in Chepe,
This wine of Spaigne crepeth ſubtilly
In other wines growing fafte by,
Of which ther rifeth fwiche fumofitee,
That whan a man hath dronken draughtes three,
And weneth that he be at home in Chepe,
He is in Spaigne, right at the toun of Lepe,
Not at the Rochell, ne at Burdeux toun,
And thanne wol he fay Sampfoun! Samfoun!
But herkeneth, Lordings, o word, I you pray,
That all the foveraine actes, dare I fay,
Of victories in the Olde Teſtament,
Thurgh veray God that is omnipotent,
Were don in abſtinence and in prayere;
Loketh the Bible, and there ye mow it lere.
Loke, Attila the grete conquerour
Died in his Дlepe with fhame and diſhonour,
Bleding ay at his nofe in dronkeneffe:
A capitaine fhulde live in fobreneffe.
And over all this avifeth you right wel
What was commanded unto Lamuel;
Not Samuel, but Lamuel, fay I.
Redeth the Bible, and find it exprefly
Of wine yeving to hem that have juſtice.
No more of this, for it may wel fuffice.
And now that I have spoke of glotonic,
Now wol I you defenden hafardrie.
Hafard is veray muder of lefinges,
And of deceite and curfed forfweringes,
Blafpheming of Crift, manslaughter, and waft alfe
Of catel, and of time; and forthermo
It is repreve, and contrary of honour
For to ben hold a commun hafardour,
And ever the higher he is of eſtat
The more he is holden defolat.
If that a prince uſeth hafarderie,
In alle governance and policie
He is, as is by commun opinion,
Yhold the leffe in reputation.
Stilbon, that was a wife embaſſadour,
Was fent to Corinth with ful gret honour
Fro Calidone, to maken hem alliance;
And whan he came he happed him par chance
That all the greteft that were of that lond
Yplaying atte hazard he hem fand;
For which, as fone as that, it mighte be,
He ftale him home agein to his coutree,
THE PARDONERES TA LE.
113
71
And fayde ther, I wol not lefe my name,
Ne wol not take on me fo gret defame,
You for to allie unto non haſardours :
Sendeth fom other 'wife embaffadours,
For by my trouthe me were liver die
Than I you fhuld to hafardours allie;
For ye, that ben fo glorious in honours,
Shal not allie you to non hafardours,
As by my wille, ne as by my tretee.
This wife philofophre thus fayd he.
Loke eke how to the King Demetrius
The King of Parthes, as the book fayth us,
Sent him a pair of dis of gold in fcorne,
For he had ufed hafaid therbeforne,
For which he held his glory and his renoun
At no value or reputatioun.
Lordes may finden other maɛer play
Honeft ynough to drive the day away.
Now wol 1 fpeke of othes falfe and grete
A word or two, as olde bookes trete.
Gret fwering is a thing abhominable,
And falfe fwering is yet more reprevable.
The highe God forbad fwering at al,
Witneffe on Mathew; but in fpecial
Of fwering fayth the holy Jeremie,
Thou shalt fwere fath thin othes, and not lie,
And ſwere in dome, and eke in rightwifneffe,
But idel fwering is a curfedneffe.
Behold and fee that in the firfte table
Of highe Goddes heftes honourable
How that the fecond heft of him is this,
Take not my name in idle or amis.
Lo, rather he forbedeth fwiche ſwering
Than homicide or many an other thing.
I fay that as by ordre thus it ſtondeth,
This knoweth he that his heftes underftondeth
How that the fecond heft of God is that:
And forthermore, I wol the tell all plat
That vengeance fhal not parten from his hous
That of his othes is outrageous.
By Goddes precious herte, and by his nailes,
And by the blood of Criſt that is in Hailes,
Seven is my chance, and thin is cink and treye:
By Goddes armes if thou falfly pleye
This dagger fhal thurghout thin herte go.
This fruit cometh of the bicchel bones two,
Forfwering, ire, falfeneffe, and homicide.
Now for the love of Crift, that for us dide,
Leteth your othes bothe gret and fmale.
But, Sires, now wol I tell you forth my Tale.
Thife riotoures three of which I tell,
Long erft or prime rong of any bell,
Were fet hem in a taverne for to drinke,
And as they fat they herd a belle clinke
Beforn a corps was caried to his grave;
That on of hem gan callen to his knave,
Go bet, quod he, and axe redily
What corps is this that paſſeth here forth by,
And loke that thou report his name wel.
Sire, quod this boy, it nedeth pover a del;
It was me told or ye came here two houres;
He was parde an old felaw of youres,
And fodenly he was yilain to-night,
For dronke as he fat on his bench upright;
VOL. I.
Ther came a privee theef men clepen Deth,
That in this contree all the peple fieth,
And with his fpere he fmote his herte atwo,
And went his way withouten wordes mo.
He hath a thouſand flain this pestilence;
And, maifter, or ye come in his prefence
Me thinketh that it were ful neceffarie
For to beware of fwiche an adverfarie :
Beth redy for me to mete him evermore;
Thus taughte me my dame; I fay no more.
By Seinte Marie, fayd this tavernere,
The child fayth foth, for he hath flain this yere,
Hens over a mile, within a gret village,
Both man and woman, child, and hyne and page,
1 trowe his habitation be there :
To ben avifed gret wildom it were
Or that he did a man a diſhonour.
Ye, Goddes armes, quod this riotour,
Is it fwiche peril with him for to mete?
I fhal him feke by ftile and eke by ſtrete,
I make a vow by Goddes digne bones.
Herkepeth, felawes, wo three ben alle ones;
Let eche of us hoid up his hond to other,
And eche of us becomen others brother,
And we wol flen this falfe traitour Deth:
He fhal be flain, he that fo many fleth,
By Goddes dignitee, or it be night.
Fogeder han thiſe three hir trouthes plight
To live and dien eche of hem for other,
As though he were his owen boren brother.
And up they ftert al dronken in this rage,
And forth they gon towards that village
Of which the taverner had ſpoke beforn,
And many a grily oth than have they fworn,
And Criftes bleffed body they to-rent,
Deth fhal be ded, if that we may him hent.
Whan they han gon not fully half a mile,
Right as they wold han troden over a ſtile,
An olde man and a poure with hem mette:
This olde man ful mekely hem grette,
And fayde thus; Now, Lordes, God you fee!
The proudest of the riotoures three
Anfwerd agen; What? cherl, with fory grace,
Why art thou all forwrapped fave thy face?
Why liveſt thou fo longe in fo gret age?
This olde man gan loke in his vifage,
And fayde thus; For Ine cannot finde
A man, though that I walked into Inde,
Neither in citee ne in no village,
That wolde change his youthe for min ages
And therefore mote I han min age ftill
As longe time as it is Goddes will.
Ne Deth, alas I ne wil not han my lif:
Thus walke I like a reiteles caitif,
And on he ground, which is my modres gate,
I knocke with my ftaf erlich and late,
And fay to hire, Leve mother, let me in.
Lo, how I vauifh, flesh, and blood, and ſkin.
Alas! whan fhul my bones ben at refte?
Mother, with you wold I changen my chefte,
That in my chambre longe time hath be,
Ye, for an heren clout to wrap in me.
But yet to me the wol not don that grace,
For which ful pale and welked is my face,
H
114
THE
PARDONERES TALE.
But, Sires, to you it is no curtefie
To fpcke unto an olde man vilanie,
But he trefpafe in word or elles in dede.
In holy writ ye moun yourlelven rede
Ageins an olde man irore upon his hede
Ye fhuld arife: therefore I yeve you rede
Ne doth unto an olde man non harm now,
No more than that ye wold a man did you
In age, if that ye may fo long abide;
And God be with you where you go or ride :
I moſte go thider as I have to go.
Nay, olde cherl, by God thou shalt not fo,
Sayde this other hafardour anon;
Thou parteft not fo lightly, by Seint John.
Thou fpake right now of thilke traitour Deth,
That in this contree all our frendes fleth;
Have here my trouth, as thou art his eſpie,
Tell wher he is, or thou fhalt it abie
By God and by the holy facrement,
For fothly thou art on of his affent
To fien us yonge folk, thou falſe theſe.
Now, Sires, quod he, if it be fo lefe
To finden Deth, tourne up this croked way,
For in that grove I left him by my fay
Under a tree, and ther he wol abide,
Ne for your beft he wol him nothing hide.
Se ye that oke? right ther ye fhulu him find.
God fave you that bought agen mankind,
And you amende! Thus fayd this olde man.
And everich of thife riotoures ran
you
Til they came to the tree, and ther they found
Of Floreins fine of gold ycoined round
Wel nigh and cighte bufhels, as hem thought:
No lenger than after Dethe they fought,
But eche of hem fo glad was of the fight,
For that the Floreins ben fo faire and bright,
That doun they fette hem by the precious hord:
The werfte of hem he ſpake the firſte word.
Brethren, quod he, take kepe what I fhal fay;
My wit is gret though that I bourde and play.
This trefour hath Fortune unto us yeven,
In mirth and jolitee our lif to liven,
And lightly as it cometh fo wol we ſpend.
Ey, Goddes precious dignitee! who wend
To-day that we fhuld han fo faire a grace?
But might this gold be caried fro this place
Home to myn hous, or elles unto youres,
(For wel I wote that all this gold is oures)
Thanne were we in high felicitee;
But trewely by day it may not be,
Men wolden fay that we were theeves ftrong,
And for our owen trefour don us hong.
This trefour muft ycaried be by night
As wifely and as fleighly as it might;
Wherfore I rede that cut among us alle
We drawe, and let fee wher the cut wol falle;
And he that hath the cut, with herte blith,
Shal rennen to the toun, and that ful ſwith,
And bring us bred and win ful prively;
And two of us fhal kepen ſubtilly
'This trefour wel; and if he wol not tarien,
Whan it is night we wol this trefour carien
By on affent wher as us thinketh beſt.
That on of hem the cut brought in his feſt,
And bad him- drawe, and loke wher it wold falle,
And it fell on the yongeft of hem alle,
And forth toward the toun he went anon :
And al fo fone as that he was agon
That on of hem ſpake thus unto that other;
Thou woteft wel thou art my fworen brother,
Thy profite wol I tell the right anon.
Thou woft wel that our felaw is agon,
And here is gold, and that ful gret plentee,
That fhal departed ben among us three;
But natheles, if I can fhape it fo
That it departed were among us two,
Had I not don a frendes turn to thee?
That other anfwerd, I n'ot how that may be
He wote wel that the gold is with us tweye.
What fhuln we don, what fhuln we to him feye?
Shal it be confeil? fayde the firfte fhrewe,
And I fhal tellen thee in wordes fewe
What we fhul don, and bring it wel aboute.
I grante, quod that other, out of doute,
That by my trouth I wol thee not bewreie.
Now, quod the firft, thou woft wel we ben
And tweie of us fhal ſtrenger be than on. [tweie.
Loke, whan that he is fet thou right anon
Arife, as though thou woldeft with him play,
And I fhal rive him thurgh the fides tway
While that thou ftrogleft with him as in game,
And with thy dagger loke thou do the lame;
And than fhal this gold departed be,
My dere frend! betwixen thee and me;
Than moun we bothe our luftes al fulfille,
And play at dis right at our owen wille.
And thus accorded ben thife fhrewes tweye
To flen the thridde, as ye han herde me feye.
This yongeft, which that wente to the toun,
Ful oft in herte he rolleth up and doun
The beautee of thiſe Floreins new and bright.
O Lord! quod he, if fo were that I might
Have all this trefour to myfelf alone,
Ther n'is no man that liveth under the trone
Of God that fhulde live fo mery as I.
And at the laft the fend our enemy:
Putte in his thought that he fhuld poiſon beye,
With which he mighte flen his felaws tweye:
For why? the fend fond him in fwiche living
That he had leve to forwe him to bring;
For this was outrely his ful entente,
To flen hem both and never to repente.
And forth he goth, no lenger wold he tary,
Into the toun unto a potecary,
And praied him that he wolde fell
Some poifon, that he might his ratouns quell;
And eke ther was a polkat in his hawe
That, as he fayd, his capons had yſlawe;
And fayn he wolde him wreken, if he might,
Of vermine that deftroied hem by night,
The potecary anſwerd, Thou shalt have
A thing, as wifly God my foule fave,
In all this world ther n'is no creature
That ete or dronke hath of this confecture,
Not but the mountance of a corne of whete,
That he ne fhal his lif anon forlete,
Ye, fterve he ſhal, and that in leffe while
Than thou wolt gon a pas not but a mile 3
THE PARDONERES TALE.
115
►
This poifon is fo ftrong and violent.
This curfed man hath in his hond yhent
This poifon in a box, and ſwithe he ran
Into the nexte ſtrete unto a man,
And borwed of him large botelles three,
And in the two the poifen poured he;
The thridde he kepte clene for his drinke,
For all the night he ſhope him for to fwinke
In carying of the gold out of that place.
And whan this riotour with fory grace
Hath filled with win his grete bottelles three
To his felawes agen repaireth he.
What nedeth it thereof to fermon more?
For right as they had caft his deth before,
Right fo they han him flain, and that anon.
And whan that this was don, thus fpake that on;
Now let us fit and drinke, and make us mery,
And afterward we wiln his body bery.
And with that word it happed him par cas
To take the botelle ther the poifon was,
And dronke, and yave his felaw drinke alfo,
For which anon they ftorven bothe two.
But certes I fuppofe that Avicenne
Wrote never in no canon ne in no fenne
Mo wonder fignes of empoifoning
Than had thife wretches two or hir ending,
Thus ended ben thiſe homicides two,
And eke the falfe empoifoner alfo.
O curfedneffe of all curfedneffe;
traitours homicide! o wickedneffe!
O glotonie, luxurie, and hafardrie !
Thou blafphemour of Crift with vilanie
And othes grete of uſage and of pride!
Alas! mankinde, how may it betide
That to thy Creatour, which that thee wrought,
And with his precious herte-blood thee bought,
Thou art fo falſe and ſo unkind? alas!
Now, good men, God foryeve you your trefpas,
And ware you fro the finne of avarice,
Min holy pardon may you all warice,
So chat ye offre nobles or ftarlinges,
Or elles filver broches, fpones, ringes.
Boweth your hed under this holy bulle.
Cometh up, ye wives, and offreth of your wolle
Your names I entre here in my roll anon;
Into the bliffe of heven fhul ye gon:
1
you affoile by min high powere,
You that wiln offre, as clene and eke as clere
As ye were borne. Lo, Sires, thus I preche'
And Jeſu Criſt, that is our foules leche,
So graunte you his pardon to receive.
For that is beſt, I wol you not deceive.
But, Sires, o word forgate I in my Tale;
I have relikes and pardon in my male
As faire as any man in Engelond,
Which were me yeven by the Popes hond.
If any of you wol of devotion
Offren, and han my abfolution,
Cometh forth anon, and kneleth here adoun,
And mekely receiveth my pardoun;
Or elles taketh pardon as ye wende,
Al new and freſhe at every tounes ende,
So that ye offren alway newe and newe
Nobles or pens which that ben good and trewe,
It is an honour to everich that is here
That
ye moun have a fuffifant Pardonere
To affoilen you in contree as ye ride
For aventures which that moun betide.
Paraventure ther may falle on or two
Doun of his hors, and breke his necke atwa
Loke, which a feurtee is it to you alle
That I am in your felawſhip yfalle,
That may affoile you both more and leffe,
Whan that the foule fhal fro the body paffe.
I rede that our Hofte fhal beginne,
For he is moſt envoluped in finne.
Come forth, Sire Hofte, and offre firſt anon,
And thou fhalt kiffe the relikes everich on,
Ye for a grote: unbokel anon thy purſe
Nay, nay, quod he; than have I Criftes curſe,
Let be, quod he; it ſhal not be, ſo the ich.
Thou woldeſt make me kiffe thin olde brech,
And fwere it were a relike of a feint,
Though it were with thy foundement depeint :
But by the crois which that Seint Heleine fond
I wolde I had thin coilons in min hond
Inftede of relikes or of feintuarie.
Let cut hem of, I wol thee help hem carie:
They ſhul be ſhrined in an hogges tord.
This Pardoner anſwered not a word;
So wroth he was no worde ne wolde he ſay.
Now, quod our Hofte, I wol no lenger play
With thee, ne with non other angry man.
But right anon the worthy knight began,
(Whan that he faw that all the peple lough)
No more of this, for it is right ynough.
Sire Pardoner, be mery and glad of chere;
And ye, Sire Hofte, that ben to me fo´dere,
I pray you that ye kiffe the Pardoner;
And, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner,
And as we diden let us laugh and play.
Anon they kiſſed, and riden forth hir way.
Hij
THE SHIPMANNES PROLOGUE
!
༠༩༢༥
THE SHIPMANNES PROLOGUE.
OUR Hofte upon his ſtirrops ftode anon,
And faide, Good men, herkeneth everich on,
This was a thrifty Tale for the nones.
Sire Pariſh Preeft, quod he, for Goddes bones
Tell us a Tale, as was thy forward yore;
I fee wel that ye lerned men in lore
Can mochel good, by Goddes dignitee.
The Perfon him anfwerd, Benedicite!
What eileth the man fo finfully to fwere?
Our Hofte anſwerd, O Jankin! be ye there?
Now good men, quod our Hofte, herkneth to me?
Ifmell a Loller in the wind, quod he :
Abideth for Goddes digne paffion,
For we fhul-han a predication :
This Loller here wol prechen ús fomwhat
Nay, by my fathers foule, that fhal he nat,
Sayde the Shipman; here fhal he nat preches
He fhal no goſpel glofen here ne teche.
We leven all in the gret God, quód he:
He wolde fowen for difficultee,
Or fpringen cockle in our clene corne;
And therefore Hofte, I warne thee beforne
My joly body ſhal a Tale telle,
And I thal clinken you fo mery a belle
That I fhal waken all this compagnie;
But it ſhal not ben of philofophie,
Ne of phyfike, ne termes queinte of lawe *
Ther is but litel Latin in my mawė,
THE SHIPMANNES TALE.
A Marchant whilom dwelled at Seint Deniſe
That riche was, for which men held him wife :
A wif he had of excellent beautee,
$
And compaignable and revelous was the,
Which is a thing that cauſeth more difpence
Than worth is all the chere and reverence
That men hem don at feftes and at dances
Swiche falutations and contenances
Paffen as doth a fhadwe upon the 'wal;
But wo is him that payen mote for all.
The fely hufbond algate he mote pay,
He mote us clothe and he mote us array
All for his owen worſhip richely,
In which array we dancen jolily:
And if that he may not paraventure,
Or elles luft not fwiche difpence endure,
But thinketh it is wafted and yloft,
Than mote another payen for our coft,
Or lene us gold, and that is perilous.
This noble marchant held a worthy hous,
For which he had all day fo gret repaire
For his largeffe, and for his wif was faire,
That wonder is. But herkeneth to my Tale.
Amonges all thife geftes gret and fmale
Ther was a monk, a faire man and a bold,
I trow a thritty winter he was old,
That ever in on was drawing to that place.
This yonge monk, that was ſo faire of face,
Acquainted was fo with this goode man,
Sithen that hire firfte knowlege began,
That in his hous as familier was he
As it poffible is any frend to be.
And for as mochel us this goode man
And eke this monk of which that I began
Were bothe two yborne in o village,
The monk him claimeth as for cofinage,
THE SHIPMANNES TALĖ.
117
And he again him fayd not ones nay,
But was as glad therof as foule of day,
For to his herte it was a gret plefance.
"Thus ben they knit with eterne alliance,
And eche of hem gan other for to enfure
Of brotherhed while that hir lif may dure.
Free was Dan John, and namely of difpence,
As in that hous, and ful of diligence
To don plefance, and alfo gret coftage:
He not forgate to yave the lefte page
In all that hous, but after hir degree
He
yave the lord aud fithen his meinee,
Whan that he came, fom maner honeft thing,
For which they were as glad of his coming
As foule is fayn whan that the fonne up rifeth,
No more of this as now, for it fufficeth.
But fo befell this marchant on a day
Shope him to maken redy his array
Foward the toun of Brugges for to fare,
To byen ther a portion of ware,
For which he hath to Paris fent anon
A meffager, and praied hath Dan John
That he fhuld come to Seint Denis, and pleie
With him and with his wif a day or tweie,
Or he to Brugges went, in all wife.
•
This noble monk, of which I you deviſe,
Hath of his abbot as him lift licence,
(Becauſe he was a man of high prudence,
And eke an officer out for to ride
To feen hir granges and hir bernes wide)
And unto Seint Denis he cometh anon.
Who was fo welcome as my Lord Dan John,
Our dere coufin, ful of curtefie?
With him he brought a jubbe of Malvefie,
And eke another ful of fine Vernage,
And volatile, as ay was his ufage.
And thus I let hem ete, and drinke, and pleye,
This marchant and this monk, a day or tweye,
The thridde day this marchant up arifeth,
And on his nedes fadly him avifeth,
And up into his countour hous goth he,
To reken with himfelven, wel may be,
Of thilke yere how that it with him ſtood,
And how that he difpended had his good,
And if that he encrefed were or non.
His bookes and his bagges many on
He layeth beforn him on his counting bord.
Ful riche was his trefour and his hord,
For which ful fafte his countour dore he fhet,
And eke he n'olde no man fhuld him let
Of his accountes for the mene time;
And thus he fit til it was paffed prime.
Dan John was riſen in the morwe alſo,
And in the gardin walked to and fro,
And hath his thinges fayd ful curteifly.
This goode wif came walking prively
Into the gardin ther he walketh foft,
And him falueth, as the hath don oft :
A maiden child came in hire compagnie,
Which as hire luft fhe may governe and gie,
For yet under the yerde was the maide.
O dere coufin min! Dan John, fhe faide,
What aileth you ſo rathe for to ariſe?
Nece, quod he, it ought ynough ſuffiſe
Five houres for to flepe upon a night,
But it were for an olde appalled wight,
As ben thife wedded men, that lie and dare,
As in a fourme fitteth a wery hare
Were al forftraught with houndes gret and fmale,
But, dere nece! why be ye fo pale?
I trowe certes that our goode man
Hath you laboured fith this night began,
That you were nede to reften haftily.
And with that word he lough ful merily,
And of his owen thought he wexe all red.
This faire wif gan for to ſhake hire hed,
And faied thus; Ye, God wote all, quod fhe :
Nay, cofin min, it ftant not fo with me;
For by that God that yave me foule and lif
In all the reame of Fraunce is ther no wif
That laffe luft hath to that fery play,
For I may fing alas and wala wa
That I was borne but to no wight (quod fhe)
Dare I not tell how that it ftant with me;
Wherfore I thinķe out of this lond to wende,
Or elles of myfelf to make an ende,
So ful am I of drede and eke of care.
This monk began upon this wif to ftare,
And fayd, Alas! my nece, God forbede
That for
ye any forwe or any drede
Fordo yourfelf: but telleth me your grefe,
Paraventure I´may in your mifchefe
Confeile or helpe; and therfore telleth me
All your annoy, for it fhal ben fecree;
For on my portos here I make an oth
That never in my lif, for lefe ne loth,
Ne fhal I of no confeil you bewray.
The fame agen to you, quod fhe, I fay.
By God and by this portos I you fwere,
Though men me wolden all in pieces tère,
Ne fhall I never, for to gon to helle,
Bewrey o word of thing that ye me tell;
Nought for no cofinage ne alliance,
But veraily for love and affiance,
Thus ben they fworne, and hereupon they kiste,
And eche of hem told other what her liftc.
Cofin, quod fhe, if that I had a space,
As I have non, and namely in this place,
Than wold I tell a legend of my lif,
What I have fuffred fith I was a wif
With min huſbond, al be he your cofin.
Nay, quod this monk, by God and Seint Martin
He n'is no more cofin unte me
Than is the leef that hangeth on the tree;
clepe him fo, by Seint Denis of France,
To han the more caufe of acquaintance
Of you, which I have loved fpecially
Aboven alle women fikerly;
This fwere I you on my profeffioun.
Telleth your grefe, left that he come adoun,
And hafteth you, and goth away anon.
My dere love! quod fhe, o my Dan John!:
Fullefe were me this confeil for to hide,
But out it mote, I may no lenger abide.
Myn huſbond is to me the werſte man -
That ever was fith that the world began.
But fith I am a wif, it fit not me
To tellen no wight of our privetee.
Hijj
}
118
SHIPMANNES TALE.
THE
Neither in bed ne in non other place;
God fhilde I fhulde it tellen for his grace:
A wif nè fhal not fayn of hire hufbond
But all honour, as I can underſtond;
Save unto you thus moch I tellen fhal:
As helpe me God he is nought worth at all,
In no degree the value of a flie.
But yet me greveth moft his nigardie:
And wel ye wot that women naturally
Defiren thinges fixe as well as I;
They wolden that hir hufbondes fhulden be
Hardy, and wife, and riche, and therto free,
And buxome to his wif, and fresh a-bedde.
But by that ilke Lord that for us bledde,
For his honour myfelven for to array,
A Sonday next I mufte nedes pay
An hundred franks, or elles am I lorne;
Yet were me lever that I were unborne
Than were don a fclandre or vilanie.
And if min hufbond eke might it eſpie
I n'ere but loft; and therfore I you prey
Lene me this fumme, or elles mote I dey;
Dan John, I fay, lene me this hundred frankes
Parde I wol not faille you my thankes,
If that you lift to do that I you pray;
For at a certain day I wol you pay,
And do to you what pleſance and ſervice
That I may don, right as you lift devife;
And but I do God take on me vengeance
As foul as ever had Genelon of France.
This gentil monk anſwered in this manere;
Now trewely, min owen lady dere!
I have (quod he) on you ſo gretc a routhe,
That I you fwere, and plighte you my trouthe,
That whan your huſbond is to Flandres fare
I wol deliver you out of this care,
For I wol bringen you an hundred frankes.
And with that word he caught her by the flankes,
And hire embraced hard, and kifte hire oft.
Goth now your way, quod he, al ftille and foft,
And let us dine as fone as that ye may,
For by ny kalender it is prime of day:
Goth now, and beth as trewe as I fhal be.
Now cllès God forbcde, Sire, quod fhe.
And forth fhe goth as joly as a pie,
And bad the cokes that they fhuld hem hie,
So that men mighten dine, and that anon.
Up to hire hufbond is this wif ygon,
And knocketh at his countour boldely,
Qui eft la? quod he; Peter, it am I,
Quod fhe. What, Sire, how longe wol ye faſt?
How longe time wol ye reken and caft
Your fummes, and your bookes, and your thinges?
The devil have part of all fwiche rekeninges!
Ye han ynough parde of Goddes fonde.
Come doun to-day, and let your bages ftonde.
Ne be ye not aſhamed that Dan John
Shal fafting all this day elenge gon?
What! let us here a mat, and go we dine.
Wif, quod this man, litel canft thou divine
The curious befineffe that we have;
For of us chapmen, all fo God me fave,
And by that lord that cleped is Seint Ive,
Scarfly amonges twenty ten fhal thrive
Continuelly, lafting unto oure age.
We moun wel maken chere and good vifage,
And driven forth the world as it may be,
And kepen oure eftat in privetee
Til we be ded, or elles that we play
A pilgrimage, or gon out of the way :
And therfore have I gret neceflitee
Upon this queinte world to aviſen me ;
For evermore mote we ftond in drede
Of hap and fortune in our chapman hede.
To Flanders wol I go to-morwe at day,
And come agein as fone as ever I may,
For which, my dere wif! I thee befeke
As be to every wight buxom and meke,
And for to kepe our good be curious,
And honeftly governe wel our hous.
Thou hast ynough in every maner wife
That to a thrifty houfhold may fuffice.
Thee lacketh non array ne no vitaille;
Of filver in thy purſe ſhalt thou not faille.
And with that word his countour dore he fhette,
And doun he goth; no lenger wold he lette;
And hastily a maffe was ther faide,
And ſpedily the tables were ylaide,
And to the diner fafte they hem fpedde,
And richely this monk the chapman fedde.
And after diner Dan John fobrely
This chapman toke apart, and prively
He faid him thus; Cofin, it ſtondeth ſo
That wel' I fee to Brugges ye wol go ;
God and Scint Auſtin fpede you and gide!
I pray you, cofin, wifely that ye ride;
Governeth you alfo of your diete
Attemprely, and namely in this hete.
Betwix us two nedeth no ftrange fare:
Farewel, cofin, God fhilde you fro care!
If any thing ther be by day or night,
If it lie in my power and my might,
That ye me wol command in any wife,
It thal be don right as ye wol deviſe.
But o thing or ye go, if it may be;
I wolde prayen you for to lene me
An hundred frankes for a weke or tweye,
For certain beftes that I mufte beye,
To ſtoren with a place that is oures,
(God help me fo I wold that it were youres)
I fhal not faille furely of my day,
Not for a thouſand frankes, a mile way.
But let this thing be fecree, I you preye;
For yet to-night thife beftes mote I beye.
And fare now wel, min owen cofin dere!
Grand mercy of your coft and of your chere.
This noble marchant gentilly anon
Anfwerd and faid, O cofin min, Dan John!
Now fikerly this is a fmal requeſte ;
My gold is youres, whan that it you lefte,
And not only my gold but my chaffare :
Take what you left, God fhilde that ye ſpare.
But o thing is, ye know it wel ynough
Of chapmen that hir money is hir plough ;
We moun creancen while we han a name,
But goodles for to ben it is no game.
Pay it agen whan it lith in your eſe :
After my might tul fayn wold I you plefe.
3
THE SHIPMANNES TALE.
119
Thife hundred frankes fet he forth anon,
And prively he toke hem to Dan John:
No wight in al this world wift of this lone
Saving this marchant and Dan John alone.
They drinke, and ſpeke, and rome a while and
Til that Dan John rideth to his abbeye. [pleye,
The morwe canie, and forth this marchant rideth
To Flandres ward; his prentis wel hini gideth
'Til he came in to Brugges merily.
Now goth this marchant fafte and befily
About his nede, and bieth, and creanceth;
He neither playeth at the dis ne danceth,
But as a marchant, fhortly for to tell,
He ledeth his lif; and ther I let him dwell.
The Sonday next the marchant was agon
To Seint Denis ycomen is Dan John,
With croune and berde all freſh and newe yfhave.
In all the hous ther n'as fo litel a knave,
Ne no wight elles, that he n'as ful fain
For that my Lord Dan John was come again.
And ſhortly to the point right for to gon,
This faire wif accordeth with Dan John
That for thiſe hundred frankes he thuld all night
Haven hire in his armes bolt upright :
And this accord parformed was in dede.
In mirth all night a befy lif they lede
Til it was day, that Dan John yede his way,
And bad the meinie farewel, have good day :
For non of hem, ne no wight in the toun,
Hath of Dan John right non fufpectioun :
And forth he rideth home to his abbey,
Or wher him lifte; no more of him I fey.
This marchant, whan that ended was the faire,
To Scint Denis he gan for to repaire,
And with his wif he maketh felte and chere,
And telleth hire that chaffare is fo dere
That nedes mufte he make a chevifance
For he was bonde in a recognifance
To payen twenty thouſand fheldes anon:
For which this marchant is to Paris gon
'To borwe of certain frendes that he hadde
A certain frankes, and fom with him he ladde.
And whan that he was come in to the toun,
For gret chiertee and gret affectioun
Unto Dan John he goth him firft to pleye,
Not for to axe or borwe of him moneye,
But for to wete and ſeen of his welfare,
And for to tellen him of his chaffare,
As frendes don whan they ben mette in fere.
Dan John him maketh fefte and mery chere,
And he him tolde agen ful ſpecially
How he had wel ybought and graciouſly
(Thanked be God) all hole his marchandife,
Save that he muſt in alle manere wife
Maken a chevifance, as for his befte,
And than he thulde ben in joye and refte.
Dan John anſwered, Certes I am fain
That ye in hele be comen home again;
And if that I were riche, as have I bliffe,
Of twenty thousand fheldes fhuld ye not miffe,
For
ye fo kindely this other day
Lente me gold, and as I can and may
I thanke you, by God and by Scint Jame,
But nathelesĮ toke unto our dame,
Your wif, at home, the fame gold again.
Upon your benche; fhe wote it wel certain,
By certain tokenes that I can hire tell.
Now by your leve I may no lenger dwell;
Our abbot wel out of this toun anon,
And in his compagnie I mufte gon.
Grete wel our daine, min owen nece fwete!
And farewel, dere cofin! til we mete.
[wife,
This marchant, which that was ful ware and
Creanced hath, and paide eke in Paris
To certain Lumbardes, redy in hir hond,
gan
I he furnme of gold, and gate of hem his bond,
And home he goth mery as a popingay,
For wel he knew he flood in fwiche array
That nedes mufte he winne in that viage
A thouſand frankes above all his coftage.
His wif ful redy mette him at the gate,
As fhe was wont of old ufage algate;
And all that night in mirthe they ben fette,
For he was riche, and clerely out of dette.
Whan it was day, this marchant embrace
His wif all newe, and kifte hire in hire face,
And up he goth, and maketh it ful tough.
No more, quod fhe; by God ye have ynough;
And wantonly agen with him fhe plaide,
Til at the laſt this marchant to hire faide :
By God, quod he, I am a litel wrothe
With you my wif, although it be me lothe;
And wote ye why? by God, as that I geffe
That ye han made a manere ftrangenefle
Betwixen me and my cofin Dan John.
Ye fhuld have warned me or I had gon
That he you had an hundred frankes paide
By redy token, and held him evil apaide
For that I to him fpake of chevifance:
(Me femed ſo as by his contenance)
But natheles, by God our heven king
I thoughte not to axe of him no thing.
I pray thee, wif, ne do thou no more fo
Tell me alway, er that I fro thee go.
any dettour hath in min abfence
Ypaid thee, left thurgh thy negligence
If
I might him axe a thing that he hath paide.
This wif was not aferde ne affraide,
But boldely fhe faid, and that anon,
Mary! I defie that falſe monk Dan John;
I kepe not of his tokenes never a del:
He toke me certain gold, I wote it wel.
What! evil thedome on his monkes fnoute ;
For God it wot I wend withouten doute
That he had yeve it me becaufe of you,
To don therwith min honour and my prow
For coinage and eke for belle chere
That he hath had ful often times here:
But fith I fee I ftonde in fwiche disjoint
I wol anfwere you shortly to the point.
Ye have mo flakke dettours than am I
For I wol pay you wel and redily
Fro day to day; and if fo be I faille,
I am your wif, fcore it upon my taile,
And I hal pay as fone as ever 1 may;
For by my trouth I have on min array,
And not in wafte, beftowed it every dels
And for I have beſtowed it fo wel
Hij
1
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THE SHIPMANNES TALE.
For your honour, for Goddes fake I fay
As beth not wrothc, but let us laugh and play:
Ye hal my joly body han to wedde;
By God I n'ill not pay you but a-bedde:
Feryeve it me, min owen fpoufe dere!
Turne hitherward, and maketh better chere.
This marchant faw ther was no remedy,
And for to chide it n'ere but a foly,
Sith that the thing may not amended bë.
Now wif, he faid, and I foryeve it thee;
But by thy lif be ne no more fo large;
Kepe bet my good; this yeve I thee in charge.
Thus endeth now my Tale, and God us fende
Taling ynough unto our lives ende.
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THE PRIORESSES PROLOGUE
121
THE PRIORESSES PROLOGUE.
WEL faid, by corpus Domini, quod our Hofte;
Now longe mote thou failen by the cofte,
Thou gentil maifter, gentil marinere.
God give the monke a thouſand laſt quad yere.
A ha! felawes, beth ware of fwiche a jape.
'The monke put in the mannes họde an apc,
And in his wifes eke, by Seint Auftin.
Draweth no monkes more into your in.
But now paffe over, and let us feek aboute
Who fhall now tellen firſt of all this route
Another Tale and with that word he ſaid,
As curteily as it had been a maid;
My Lady Prioreffe, by your leve,
So that I wift I fhuld you not agreve,
I wolde demen that ye tellen fhold
A Tale next, if fo were that ye wold.
Now wol ye vochefauf, may Lady dere?
Gladly, quod fhe; and faide as ye ſhul here,
THE PRIORESSES TALE*.
O Lord our Lord! thy name how merveillous
Is in this large world yfprad! (quod fhe)
For not al only thy laude precious
Parfourmed is by men of dignitce,
But by the mouth of children thy bountee
Pariourmed is, for on the breſt fouking
Sometime fhewen they thin herying.
Wherfore in laude, as I can best and may,
Of thee and of the white lily flour
Which that thec bare, and is a maide alway,
To tell a ftorie I will do my labour;
Not that I may encrefen hire honour,
For the herfelven is honour and rote
Of bountee, next hire fone, and foules bote.
O mother maide! o maide and mother fre!
O buſhe unbrent! brenning in Moyfes fight,
That ravifhedeft doun fro the deitee,
Thurgh thin humbleſſe, the goft that in the alight
Of whos vertue, whan he thin herte light,
Conceived was the fathers fapience,
Helpe me to tell it in thy reverence.
Lady! thy bountee, thy magnificence,
Thy vertue and thy gret humilitee,
* A miracle of a Chriftian child murdered by the Jews,
Orry.
Ther may no tongue expreffe in no ſcience.;
For om ime, Lady! or men pray to thee
Thou goft beforn of thy benignitee
And geteft us the light of thy prayere
To giden us unto thy fone fo dere.
My conning is fo weke, o blisful Quene!
For to declare thy grete worthineffe,
That I ne may the weighte not fuſtene ;
But as a child of twelf moneth old or leffe,
That can unnethes any word expreffe,
Right fo fare I, and therefore I you pray
Gideth my fong that I fhal of you fay.
Ther was in Afie, in a gret citee,
Amonges Criften folk a Jewerie,
Suftened by a lord of that contree,
For foule ufure and lucre of vilanie
Hateful to Crift and to his compagnie,
Andthurgh theftret, men mighten ride and wende,
For it was free, and open at eyther ende.
A litel fcole of Criften folk ther ſtood
Doun at the ferther end, in which ther were
Children an hepe comen of Criften blood,
That lerned in that fccle yere by yere
Swiche manere doctrine as men ufed there;
122
THE PRIORESSES TALE.
This is to fay, to fingen and to rede,
As fmale children don in hir childhede.
Among thife children was a widewes fone,
A litel clergion, fevene yere
of age,
That day by day to fcole was his wone,
And eke alfo, wheras he fey the image
Of Crittes moder, had he in ufage,
As him was taught, to knele odioan, and fay
Ave Marie as he goth by the way.
Thus hath this widewe hire litel fone ytaught
Our blicful Lady, Criftes mother dere,
To worship ay, and he forgate it naught,
For fely childe wol away fone lere.
But aye whan I remembre on this matere
Scint Nicholas ftant ever in my prefence,
For he fo yong to Crift did reverence,
This litel childe his litel book lerning,
As he fat in the fcole at his primere,
He Alma Redemptoris herde fing,
As children lered hir antiphonere,
And as he dorft he drow him nere and nere,
And herkencă ay the words and the note,
Til he the firfte vers coude al by rote.
Nought wift he what this Latin was to ſay,
For he fo yonge and tendre was of age;
But on a day his felaw gan he pray
To expounden him this fong in his language,
Or telle him why this fong was in ufage:
This prayde he him to conſtrue and declare
Ful oft time upon his knees bare.
His felaw, which that elder was than he,
Anſwered him thus ; This fong I have herd fay,
Was maked of our blisful Lady fre,
Hire to falue, and eke hire for to prey
To ben our help and focour whan we dey.
I can no more expound in this matere :
I lerne fong; I can but fmal grammere.
And is this fong maked in reverence
Of Criftes moder? faid this innocent:
Now certes I wol don my diligence
To conne it all or Criftemaffe be went,
Though that I for my primer fhal be fhent,
And fhal be beten thries in an houre.
I wol it conne our Ladie for to honoure.
His felaw taught him homeward prively
Fro day to day til he coude it by rote,
And than he ſong it wel and boldely
Fro word to word according with the note:
Twies a day it paffed thurgh his throte,
To fcoleward and homeward whan he wente;
On Criftes moder fet was his entente.
As I have faid, thurghout the Jewerie
This litel child, as he came to and fro,
Ful merily than wold he fing and crie
O Alma Redemptoris ever mo.
The fweteneffe hath his herte perfed fo
Of Criftes moder, that to hire to pray
He cannot ſtint of finging by the way,
Our firfte fo, the ferpent Sathanas,
That hath in Jewes herte his wafpes neft,
Up fwale and faid, O Ebraike peple, alas !
Is this to you a thing that is honeſt.
That fwiche a boy fhal walken as him leſte
In your defpit, and fing of fwiche fentence,
Which is again our lawes reverence ?
From thennesforth the Jewes han confpired
This innocent out of this world to chace :
And homicide thereto han they hired,
That in an aleye had a privee place,
And as the child gan forthby for to pace
This curied Jew hini hent and held him faſt,
And cut his throte, and in a pit him caſt.
I ſay that in a wardrope they him threwe
Wher as thife Jewes purgen hir entraille.
O curfed folk! of Herodes alle-newe,
What may your evil entente you availle?
Mordre wol out, certein it wol not faille;
And namely ther the honour of God fhal fprede
The blood out crieth on your curfed dede.
O martyr fouded in virginitee!
Now maiſt thou finge and folwen ever in on
The white Lamb celeftial, quod fhe,
Of which the gret evangeliſt Seint John
In Pathmos wrote, which fayth that they that go
Beforn this Lamb, and ſing a ſong al newe,
That never flcfhly woman they no knewe.
This poure widewe awaiteth al that night
After hire litel childe, and he came nought,
For which as fone as it was dayes light,
With face pale of drede and befy thought
She hath at ſcole and elles wher him fought,
Til finally the gan fo fer afpie
That he laft feen was in the Jewerie.
With modres pitce in hire breft encloſed
She goth, as fhe were half out of hire minde,
To every place wher fhe hath fuppofed
By likelihed hire litel child to finde ;
And ever on Criftes moder meke and kinde
She cried, and at the lafte thus fhe wrought,
Among the curfed Jewes fhe him fought.
She freyneth and fhe praieth pitoufly
To every Jew that dwelled in thilke place
To telle hire of hire child went ought forth by;
They fayden Nay; but Jefu of his grace
Yave in hire thought, within a little space,
That in that place after hire fone fhe cride
Ther he was caften in a pit befide.
O grete God, that parformeft thy laude
By mouth of innocentes, lo here thy might!
This gem of chaft itee, this emeraude,
chaſtitee,
And cke of martirdome the rubie bright,
Ther he with throte ycorven lay upright
He Alma Redemptoris gan to finge
So loude, that all the place gan to ringe.
The Criften folk that thurgh the ftrete wente
In comen for to wondre upon this thing,
And hafifly they for the provoft fente:
He came anon withouten tarying,
And hericth Crift, that is of heven king,
And eke his moder, honour of mankind,
And after that the Jewes let he binde
This child with pitous lamentation
Was taken up, finging his fong alway,
And with honour and gret proceffion
They carien him unto the next abbey;
His moder fwouning by the bere lay:
Unnethes might the peple that was there
This newe Rachel bringen fro his bere.
With turment and with thameful deth eche on
This provost doth thiſe Jewes for to ſerve
THE PRIORESSES TALE.
123
That of this moder wifte, and that anon:
He n'olde no fwiche curfedneffe obferve:
Evil fhal he have that evil wol deferve;
Therfor with wild hors he did hem drawe,
And after that he heng hem by the lawe.
Upon his bere ay lith this innocent
Beforn the auter while the maſſe laſt,
And after that the abbot with his covent
Han fpedde hem for to berie him ful faſt :
And whan they holy water on him caft
As ye han herde; and whan that I had ſonge
Me thought fhe laid a grain upon my tonge.
Wherfore I fing, and fing I mote certain,
In honour of that blisful maiden free,
Til fro my tonge of taken is the grain.
And after that thus faide fhe to me;
My litel child, than wol I fetchen thee,
Whan that the grain is fro thy tongue ytake:
Be not agafte, I wol thee not forfake.
This holy monk, this abbot him mene I,
Yet fpake thischild, whan fpreint was the holy water, His tonge out caught, and toke away the grain,
And fang, Alma Redemptoris Mater!
This abbot, which that was an holy man,
As monkies ben, or elles ought to be,
This yonge child to conjure he began,
And faid; O dere child! I haſſe thee,
In vertue of the holy trinitee,
Tell me what is thy cauſe for to fing,
Sith that thy throte is cut to my feming.
My throte is cut unto my nekke bon,
Saide this child, and as by way of kinde
1 fhuld have deyd, ye longe time agon,
But Jefu Crift, as ye in bookes finde,
Wol that this glory laft and be in minde,
And for the worſhip of his moder dere.
Yet may I fing O Alma loude and clere.
This welle of mercie, Criftes moder fwete,
I loved alway, as after my conning;
And whan that I my lif fhulde forlete
To me the came, and bad me for to fing
This antem veraily in my dying,
And he yave up the goft ful foftely.
And whan this abbot had this wonder fein
His falte teres trilled adoun as reyne,
And groff he fell al platte upon the ground,
And ſtill he lay as he had ben ybound.
The covent lay eke upon the pavement
Weping and herying Criftes moder dere;
And after that they rifen, and forth ben went,
And toke away this martir fro his bere,
And in a tombe of marble ftones clere
Enclofen they his litel body fwete:
Ther he is now God lene us for to mete.
O young Hew of Lincoln flain alſo
With curfed Jewes, as it is notable,
For it n'is but a litel while ago,
Pray eke for us, we finful folk unſtable,
That of his mercie God fo merciable
On us his grete mercie multiplie,
For reverence of his moder Marie.
1
124
PROLOGUE TO SIRE THOFAS,
PROLOGUE TO SIRE THOPAS.
WHAN faid was this miracle every man
As fober was that wonder was to fee,
Til that our Hofte to japen he began,
And than at erft he loked upon me,
And faide thus; What man art thou? quod he:
Thou lokeft as thou-woldeft find an hare,
For ever upon the ground I fee thee ftare.
Approche nere, and loke up merily.
Now ware you, Sires, and let this man have place;
He in the wafte is fhapen as wel as I.
This were a popet in an arme to enbrace
For any woman, fmal and faire of face.
He femeth elvish by his contenance,
For unto no wight doth he daliance.
Say now fomwhat, fin other folk han faide;
Tell us a Tale of mirthe, and that anon.
Hofte, quod I, ne be not evil apaide,
For other Tale certes can I non
But of a rime I lerned yore agon.
Ye, that is good, quod he; we fhullen here
Som deintee thing me thinketh by thy chere.
THE RIME OF SIRE THOPAS*.
LISTENETH, Lordinges, in good entent,
And I wol tel you veramant
Of mirthe and of folas,
Al of a knight was faire and gent
In bataille and in turnament,
His name was Sire Thopas.
Yborne he was in fer contree,
In Flandres, al beyonde the fee,
At Popering in the place :
His father was a man ful frec,
And lord he was of that contree,
As it was Goddes grace.
Sire Thopas was a doughty fwain,
White was his face as paindemaine,
His lippes red as roſe :
9.
His rudde is like ſcarlet in grain,
And I you tell in good certain
He had a femely nofe.
His here, his berde, was like fafroun,
That to his girdle raught adoun;
His fhoon of Cordewane;
Of Brugges were his hofen broun;
His robe was of chekelatoun,
That cofe many a Jane.
* A northern Tale of an outlandish knight, purpofely
attered by Chaucer in a rime and ftyle differing from the
reft, as though he himflf were not the author but only
the reporter of the other Tales. Urry.
He coude hunt at the wilde dere,
And ride on hauking for the rivere
With grey gofhauk on honde;
Therto he was a good archere:
Of wraftling was ther non his pere
Ther ony ram fhuld ſtonde.
Ful many a maide bright in bour
They mourned for him par amour
Whan hem were bet to flepe;
But he was chafte and no lechour,
And fwete as is the bramble flour
That bereth the red hepe.
And fo it fell upon a day,
Forfoth, as I you tellen may,
Sire Thopas wold out ride;
He worth upon his ſtede gray,
And in his hond a launcegay,
A long fwerd by his fide.
He priketh thurgh a faire foreft,
Therin is many a wilde beft,
Ye both buck and hare;
And as he pricked north and eft,
I telle it you, him had almefte
Betidde a fory care.
THE RIME OF SIRE THOPAS,
YAS
I
Ther fpringen herbes grete and ſmale,
The licoris and the fetewale,
And many a cloue gilofre,
And notemuge to put in ale,
Whether it be moift or ftale,
Or for to lain in cofre.
The briddes fingen, it is no nay,
The ſperhauk and the popingay,
That joye it was to here,
The throſtel cok made eke his lay,
The wode dove upon the ſpray
He fang ful loude and clere.
Sire Thopas fell in love-longing
Al whan he herd the throſtel fing,
And priked as he were wood;
His faire ftede in his priking
So fwatte that men might him wring;
His fides were al blood.
Sire Thopas eke ſo wery was
For priking on the fofte gras,
So fiers was his corage,
That doun he laid him in that place
To maken his ftede fom folace,
And yaf him good forage.
A, Seinte Mary, benedicite!
What aileth this Love at me
To binde me fo fore?
Me dremed all this night parde
An elf quene fhal my lemman be,
And flepe under my gore.
An elf quene wol I love ywis,
For in this world no woman is
Worthy to be my make in toun-
All other women I forfake,
And to an elf quene I me take
By dale and eke by doun.
Into his fadel he clombe anon,
And priked over ſtile and flon
An elf quene for to efpic,
Til he fo long had riden and gone
That he fond in a privee wone
The untree of Faerie.
Wherin he foughte north and ſouth,
And oft he fpied with his mouth
In many a forest wilde,
For in that contree n'as ther non
That to him dorft ride or gon,
Neither wif ne childe.
Til that ther came a gret geaunt,
His name was Sire Oliphaunt,
A perilous men of dede;
He fayde, Child, by Termagaunt
But if thou prike out of myn haunt
Anon I flee thy fteed with mace-
Here is the Quene of Faerie,
With harpe, and pipe, and fimphonie,
Dwelling in this place.
The child fayd, Al fo mote I the
To morwe wol I meten thee,
Whan I have min armoure,
And yet I hope per ma fag
That thou halt with this luncegay
Abien dt ful foure : thy mawe
Shal I perce, if I nay,
"Or it be fully prime of the day,
For here thou shalt be awe.
Sire Thopas drew abak ful faft;
This geaunt at him ftones caft
Out of a fel ſtaffe fling:
But faire efcaped child Thopas,
And all it was thurgh Goddes grace,
And thurgh his faire bering.
Yet lifteneth, Lordings, to my Tale,
Merier than the nightingale,
For now I wol you roune
How Sire Thopas with fides fmale,
Priking over hill and dale,
Is comen agein to toune.
His mery men commandeth he
To maken him bothe game and gle,
For nedes muſt he fighte
With a geaunt with hedes three
For paramour and jolitee
Of on that fhone ful brighte.
Do come, he fayd, my mineftrales
And geftours for to tellen tales
Anon in min arming,
Of romaunces that ben reales,
Of popes and of cardinales,
And eke of love-longing.
They ſet him firſt the fwete wing
And mede eke in a mafelin
And real ſpicerie,
Of ginger-bred that was ful fin,
And licoris and eke comin,
With fugar that is trie.
He didde next his white lere
Of cloth of lake fin and clere
A breche and eke a fherte,
And next his fhert an haketon,
And over that an habergeon
For percing of his herte;
And over that a fin hauberk
Was all ywrought of Jewes werk,
Ful ftrong it was of plate,
And over that his cote-armoure,
As white as is the lily floure,
In which he wold debate.
His fheld was all of gold fo red,
And therin was a bores hed,
A charboucle befide;
And ther he fwore on ale and bred
How that the geaunt fhuld be ded,
Betide what fo betide.
His jambuix were of cuirbouly,
His fwerdes fheth of ivory,
His helme of latoun bright,
His fadel was of rewel bone,
His bridel as the fonne fhone,
Or as the mone light.
His fpere was of fin cypres,
That bodeth werre and nothing pees,
The hed ful ſharpe yground :
His ſtede was all dapple gray,
It goth an aumble in the way
Ful foftely and round in londc-
Lo, Lordes min, here is a fit,
If ye wal ony 'more of it
To telle it wol I fond.
Now hold your mouth pour charites
Bothe knight and lady fre,
THE RIME OF SIRE THOPAS
And herkeneth to my fpell;
Of bataille and of chevalrie,
Of ladies love and druerie,
Anon I wol you tell.
Men fpeken of romaunces of pris,
Of Hornchild and of Ipotis,
Of Bevis and Sire Guy,
Of Sire Libeux and Pleindamour,
But Sire Thopas he bereth the flour
Of real chevalrie.
His goode ftede he al beſtrode,
And forth upon his way he glode
As fparcle out of bronde;
Upon his creſt he bare a tour,
And therin ſtiked a lily flour;
God fhilde his corps fro fhonde!
And for he was a knight auntrous
He n'olde flepen in non hous,
But liggen in his hood;
His bright helm was his wanger,
And by him baited his deftrer
Of herbes fin and good.
Himſelf drank water of the well,
As did the knight Sire Percivel
So worthy under wede,
Til on a day-
}
3
PROLOGUE TO MELIBEUS.
*27
PROLOGUE TO MELIBEUS.
No
more of this for Goddes dignitee,
Quod our Hofte, for thou makeit me
So wery of thy veray lewedneffe,
That al fo wifly God my foule bleffe
Min eres aken of thy drafty ſpeche.
Now fwiche a rime the devil I beteche;
This may wel be rime dogerel, quod he.
Why fo? quod I; why wolt thou letten me
More of my Tale than an other man,
Sin that it is the beſte rime I can?
By God, quod he, for plainly at o word
Thy drafty riming is not worth a tord:
Thou doft nought elles but difpendeſt time.
Sire, at o word thou shalt no lenger rime.
Let fee wher thou canst tellen ought in geſte,
Or tellen in profe fomwhat at the leſte
In which ther be fom mirthe or fom doctrine.
Gladly, quod I; by Goddes fwete pine
I wol you tell a litel thing in profe
That oughte liken you, as I fuppofe,
Or elles certes ye be to dangerous.
It is a moral Tale vertuous,
Al be it told fomtime in fondry wiſe
Offondry folk, as I hal you devife.
As thus; ye wot that every evangelift
That telleth us the peine of Jefu Criſt
Ne faith not alle thing as his felaw doth;
But natheles hir fentence is al foth,
And alle accorden as in hir ſentence,
Albe ther in hir telling difference;
For fom of hem fay more and fom fay leffe
Whan they his pitous paffion expreffe.
I mene of Mark and Mathew, Luke and John,
But douteles hir fentence is all on.
Therfore, Lordinges all, I you befeche,
If that ye thinke I vary in my ſpeche,
As thus, though that I telle fom del more
Of proverbes than ye han herde before
Comprehended in this litel tretife here,
To enforcen with the effect of my matere,
And though I not the fame wordes fay
As
ye han herde, yet to you alle I pray
Blameth me not, for as in my fentence
Shul ye nowher finden no difference
Fro the fentence of thilke tretife lite
After the which this mery Tale I write;
And therfore herkeneth what I fhal fay,
And let me tellen all my Tale I pray.
1
$28
THE TALE OF MELIBEÜS,
!
TALE OF MELIBEUS*.
À YONGE man called Melibeus, mighty and
riche, begate upon his wif that called was Pru-
dence a doughter which that called was Sophie.
Upon a day befell that he for his difport is went
into the feldes him to playe. His wif and eke his
doughter hath he left within his hous, of which the
dores weren faft yfhette. Foure of his olde foos han
it efpied, and fetten ladders to the walles of his hous,
and by the windowes ben entred, and beten his
wif, and wounded his doughter with five mortal
woundes in five fondry places; this is to fay, in
hire feet, in hire hondes, in hire eres, in hire nofe,
and in hire mouth, and leften hire for dede, and
wenten away.
Whan Melibeus retorned was into his hous, and
fey al this meſchief, he like a madman rending his
clothes gan to wepe and crie.
Prudence his wif, as fer forth as fhe dorfte, be-
fought him of his weping for to ftint: but not
forthy he gan to crie and wepen ever lenger the
more.
This noble wif Prudence remembred hire upon
the fentence of Ovide, in his book that cleped is
The Remedie of Love, wheras he faith, He is a
fool that diſtourbeth the moder to wepe in the
deth of hire childe til fhe have wept hire fille, as
for a certain time; and than fhal a man don his di-
ligence with amiable wordes hire to reconforte,
and preye hire of hire weping for to ftinte. For
which refon this noble wif Prudence fuffred hire
huſbond for to wepe and crie as for a certain fpace,
and whan fhe faw hire time the fayde to him in
this wife: Alas! my Lord, quod fhe, why make
ye yourself for to be like a fool? forfothe it apper-
teineth not to a wife man to maken fwiche a forwe.
Youre doughter with the grace of God fhal warish
and efcape. And al were it fo that fhe right now
were dede, ye ne ought not as for hire deth youre-
felf to deſtroye. Senek faith, The wife man fhal
not take to gret difcomfort for the deth of his chil-
dren, but certes he fhulde fuffren it in patience, as
wel as he abideth the deth of his owen propre per-
fone.
*Prudence, the difcreet wife of Melibeus, perfuadeth
her hutband to patience, and to receive his enemies to
niercie and grace. A Tale full of moralitie, wherin both
high and low may learne to governe their affections.
Speght.
This Melibeus anfwered anon and faide; What
man (quod he) fhulde of his weping ftinte that
hath ſo gret a caufe for to wepe? Jefu Crift our
Lord himself wepte for the deth of Lazarus
his frend. Prudence anfwerd; Certes wel I wote
attempre weping is nothing defended to him that
forweful is among folk in forwe, but it is rather
graunted him to wepe. The apostle Poule unto
the Romaines writeth, Man fhal rejoyce with hem
that maken joye, and wepen with fwiche folk as
wepen. But though attempre weping be granted,
outrageous weping certes is defended. Mefure si
weping fhulde be confidered after the lore that
techeth us Senek. Whan that thy frend is dede
(quod he) let not thin eyen to moifte ben of teres
ne to muche drie; although the teres comen to
thin eyen let hem not falle. And whan thou haft
forgon thy frend do diligence to get agein another
frend; and this is more wiſdom than for to wepe
for thy frende which that thou haft lorne, for
therin is no bote. And therfore if ye governe
you by fapience, put away forwe out of youre
herte. Remembreth you that Jefus Sirak fayth, A
man that is joyous and glad in herte it him con-
ferveth floriſhing in his age; but fothly a forwe
ful herte maketh his bones drie. He faith eke
thus, that furwe in herte fleeth ful many a man.
Salomon fayth, that right as mouthes in the fhepes
fleefe anoien to the clothes, and the fmale wormes
to the tree, right fo anoieth forwe to the herte of
man; wherfore us ought as wel in the deth of
oure children as in the loffe of our goodes tempo-
rel have patience.
Remembre you upon the patient Job; whan
he hadde loft his children and his temporel fub-
ftaunce, and in his body endured and received ful
many a grevous tribulation, yet fayde he thus,
Oure Lord hath yave it to me, our Lord hath
beraft it me; right as oure Lord hath wold right
fo it is don; ybleffed be the name of oure Lord.
To thife forefaide thinges anfwered Melibeus unto
his wif Prudence: All thy wordes (quod he) ben
trewe, and therto profitable, but trewely min
herte is troubled with this forwe fo grevously that
I n'ot what to don. Let calle (quod Prudence)
thy trewe frendes alle, and thy linage, which
that ben wife, and telleth to hem your cas, and
herkeneth what they faye in confeilling, and go-
{
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS.
129
verne you after hir fentence. Salomon faith,
Werke all thinges by confeil and thou shalt never
repente.
Than by confeil of his wif Prudence this Meli-
heus let callen a gret congregation of folk, as fur-
giens, phificiens, olde folk and yonge, and ſom of
his olde enemies reconciled (as by hir ſemblant)
to his love and to his grace; and therwithal ther
comen fome of his neigheboures that diden him
reverence more for drede than for love, as it hap-
peth oft: ther comen alfo ful many fubtil flatter-
ers, and wife advocats lerned in the lawe.
And whan thife folk togeder affembled weren,
this Melibeus in forweful wife fhewed hem his cas,
and by the manere of his fpeche it femed that in
herte he bare a cruel ire, ready to don vengeaunce
upon his foos, and fodeinly defired that the werre
fhulde beginne, but natheles yet axed he his con-
feil upon this matere. A furgien, by licence and
affent of fwiche as weren wife, up rofe, and unto
Melibeus fayde as ye moun here.
Sire, (quod he) as to us furgiens apperteineth
that we do to every wight the befte that we can,
wher as we ben withholden, and to our patient
that we do no damage, wherfore it happeth many
time and ofte that whan twey men han everich
wounded other o fame furgien heleth hem both,
wherfore unto our art it is not pertinent to norice
werre, ne parties to fupporte: but certes as to the
warithing of youre doughter, al be it fo that peri-
louſly the be wounded, we fhuln do fo entent if
befineffe fro day to night, that with the grace of
God the fhal be hole and found as fone as is poffì-
ble. Almoft right in the fame wife the phificiens
aufwerden, fave that they faiden a fewe wordes
more; that right as maladies ben cured by hir
contraries, right fo fhal man warifhe werre. His
neighboures ful of envie, his feined frendes that
femed reconciled, and his flaterers, maden fem-
hlant of weping, and empeired and agregged mu-
chel of this matere, in preyfing gretly Melibee of
might, of power, of richeffe, and of frendes, def-
Ipiling the power of his adverfaries, and faiden
outrely that he anon fhulde wreken him on his
toos, and beginnen werre.
Up rofe than an advocat that was wife, by
leve and by confeil of other that were wife, and
fayde; Lordinges, the nede for the which we
ben aſſembled in this place is a ful havie thing,
and heigh matere, becauſe of the wrong and
of the wikkedneffe that hath be don, and eke by
reafon of the grete damages that in time coming
ben poffible to fallen for the fame cauſe, and eke
by refon of the gret richeffe and power of the
parties bothe, for the which refons it were a ful
gret peril to erren in this matere; wherfore, Meli-
beus, this is oure fentence: we conſeille you,
aboven alle thing, that right anon thou do thy
diligence in keping of thy propre perfone in
fwiche a wife that thou ne want non efpie ne watche
thy body for to fave: and after that we confeille
that in thin hous thou fette fufifant garnifon, fo
that they moun as wel thy body as thy hous de-
jende;
but certes for to meeven werre, ne fodenly
VOL. I.
|
for to do vengeaunce, we moun not demie in fo
utel time that it were profitable; wherefore we
axen leifer and fpace to have deliberation in this
cas to deme; for the comune proverbe faith thus
He that fone demeth fone fhal repente; and cke
men fain that thilke juge is wife that fone under-
ftondeth a matere and jugeth by leiſer: for al be it
fo that al tarying be anciful, algates it is not to
repreve in yeving of jugement, ne in vengeance
taking, whan it is fuffifant and refonable and
that fhewed our Lord Jefu Crift by enfample; for
whan that the woman that was taken in advoutrie
was brought in his prefence, to knowen what
fhuld be don with hire perfone, al be it that he
wift wel himſelf what that he wolde anfwere, yet
ne wolde he not anfwere fo deinly, but he wolde
have deliberation, and in the ground he wrote
twies and by thife caufes we axen deliberation,
and we fhuln than by the grace of God confeille
the thing that fhal be profitable.
Up fterte than the yonge folk at ones, and the
moſt partie of that compagnie han ſcorned this
olde wife man, and begonnen to make noife and
faiden, Right fo as while that iren is hot men
fhulde fmite, right fo men fhula do wreken hir
wronges while that they ben frefhe and newe:
2nd with loude voys they criden Werre! werre!
Up rofe tho on of thiſe old wife, and with his hand
made countenance that men fhuld holde hem fille
and yeve him audience. Lordinges, (quod he)
ther is ful many a man thet crieth Werre! werre!
that wote ful litel what werre amounteth, Werre
at his beginning hath fo gret an entring and fo
large, that every wight may enter whan him liketh,
and lightly find werre; but certes what end that
fhal befalle it is not light to know; for fothly
whan that werre is ones begonne there is ful many
a child unborne of his moder that fhal fiervė
yong by caufe of thilke werre, other elles live in
forwe, and dien in wretchedneffe; and therfore
or that
any werre be begonne men must have
gret confeil and gret deliberation. And whan
this olde man wende to enforcen his tale by refons,
wel nie alle at ones begonne they to rife for to
breken his tale, and bidden him ful oft his wordes
for to abregge; for fothly he that precheth to
hem that liften not heren his wordes, his fermon
hem anoieth; for Jefus Sirak fayth that mul ke in
weping is a noious thing: this is to fayn, as
muche availleth to fpeke beforn folk to which his
fpechè anoicth astofinge beforne him that wepeth.
And whan this wife man faw that him wanted
audience al fhamefast he fette him doun agein :
for Salomon faith, Ther as thou ne mayit have
non audience enforce thee not to fpeke. I fee wel
(quod this wife man) that the comune proverbe
is foth, that good confeil wanteth whan it is moſt
nede.
Yet had this Melibeus in his confeil many folk
that prively in his ere confeilled him certain thing,
and confeilled him the contrary in general audi-
Whan Molibeus had herd that the greteft
party of his confeil were accorded that he fhulde
make werre, anon he confented to hire confeilling,
ence.
1
130
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS.
This Melibee anſwered unto his wif Prudence;
I purpoſe not (quod he) to werken by thy con-
feil for many caufes and refons, for certes every
wight wold hold me than a fool; this is to fayn,
if I for thy confeilling wolde change thinges that
bed ordained and affirmed by fo many wife men.
Secondly, 1 fay that all women ben wicke, and
non good of hem all; for of a thouſand men, faith
Salomon, I found o good man; but certes of alle
women good found I never. And alfo, certes if
I governed me by thy confeil it fhulde feme that
I had yeve thee over me the maiſtrie; and God
forbede that it ſo were; for Jefus Sirak fayth, that
if the wif have the maiſtrie fhe is contrarious to
hire huſbond; and Salomon fayth, Never in thy
lif to thy wif, ne to thy child, ne to thy frend,
ne yeve no power over thyfelf; for better it were
that thy children axe of thee thinges that hem
nedeth, than thou fee thyfelf in the handes of thy
children. And alfo if I wol werche by thy con-
feilling, certes it muſt be ſomtime fecree, til it were
time that it be knowen, and this ne may not
be if I fhulde be confeilled by thee [For it is
writen The janglerie of women ne can no thing
+
hide fave that which they wote not; after the phi-
lofophre feyth, In wikked confeil women ven-
quifhen men and for thiſe refons I ne owe not
to be confeilled by thee.]
and fully affermed hir fentence. Than Dame Pru-, behight to performe your emprife, and neverthe-
dence, whan that ſhe faw how that hire hufbonde les ye weive to performe thilke fame empriſe by
fhope him for to awreke him on his foos, and to be- juft caufe, men fhuld not fay therfore ye were a
ginne werre, ſhe in ful humble wife, whan fhe faw | lyer ne forfworn; for the book fayth that the wife
hire time, fayde him theſe wordes: My Lord, (quod man maketh no lefing whan he turneth his corage
fhe) I you befeche, as hertly as I dare and can, for the better. And al be it that your empriſe be
ne hafte you not to faite, and for alle guerdonds eſtabliſhed and ordeined by gret multitude of folk,
as yeve me audience; for Piers Alphonfe * fayth, yet thar you not accomplish thilke ordinance but
Who fo that doth to thee outher good or harme you liketh, for the trouthe of thinges and the pro-
hafte thee not to quite it, for in this wife thy fit ben rather founden in fewe folk that ben wife
frend wol abide, and thin enemie ſhal the lenger and ful of reſon, than by gret multitude of folk
live in drede. The proverbe fayth, He hafteth ther every man cryeth and clattereth what him
wel that wifely can abide; and in wikked haft is liketh; fothly fwiche multitude is not honeft. As
no profite.
to the ſecond refon, wheras ye ſay that all women
ben wicke; fave your grace, certes ye defpife alle
women in this wife, and he that all defpifeth, as
faith the book, all defplefeth. And Senek faith,
that who fo wol have fapience fhall no man dif-
preife, but he fhal gladly teche the ſcience that he
can without prefumption or pride, and fwiche
thinges as he nought can he fhal not ben afhamed
to lere hem, and to enquere of leffe folk than him-
felf. And, Sire, that ther hath ben ful many a
good woman may lightly be preved; for certes,
Sire, our Lord Jefu Crift n'olde never han def-
cended to be borne of a woman if all women had
be wicked; and after that, for the gret bountee
that is in women, our Lord Jefu Crift, whan he
was rifen from deth to lif, appeared rather to a
woman than to his apoftles. And though that Sa-
lomon fayde he founde never no good woman, it
folweth not therfore that all women be wicked;
for though that he ne found no good woman,
certes many another man hath founde many a
woman ful good and trewe: or elles, peraventure,
the entent of Salomon was this, that in foveraine
bountee he found no woman; this is to fay, that
ther is no wight that hath foveraine bountee fave
God alone, as he himſelf recordeth in his Evange-
lies; for ther is no creature fo good that him ne
wanteth fomwhat of the perfection of God that
is his maker. Youre thridde refon is this; ye fay
that if that ye governe you by my confeil it
fhulde feme that ye had yeve me the maiſtrie and
the lordſhip of your perfon. Sire, fave your grace,
it is not fo; for if fo were that no man fhulde be
confeilled but only of hem that han lordship and
mailtrie of his perfon, men n'olde not be confeilled
fo often; for fothly thilke man that afketh con-
feil of a purpos, yet hath he free chois whether
he wol werke after that confcil or non.
to your fourth refon, ther as ye fain that the jang-
lerie of women can hide thinges that they wot
not, as who fo fayth that a woman can not hide
that the wote; Sire, thife wordes ben underftonde
of women that ben janglereffes and wicked, of
which women men fain that three thinges driven
a man out of his hous, that is to fay, fmoke, drop-
ping of raine, and wicked wives; and of fwiche
women Salomon fayth, that a man were better
dwell in defert than with a woman that is riotous:
and, Sire, by your leve, that am not I,for ye have
ful often affaied my gret filence and my gret pa-
tience, and eke how wel that I can hide and hele
Whan Dame Prudence, ful debonairly, and with
gret pacience, had herd all that hire hufbonde liked
for to fay, than axed fhe of him licence for to
fpeke, and fayde in this wife: My lord, (quod
fhe) as to your firſt refon it may lightly ben an-
fwerd, for I fay that it is no folie to chaunge con-
feil whan the thing is chaunged, or elles whan the
thing femeth otherwiſe than it femed afore. And
moreover, I ſay, though that ye have fworne and
He calls himself Petrus Alfunnfi in his Dialogus contra
Judaeos, mf. Harl. 3861. He there informs us, that he
was himself originally a Jew, but converted and baptized
in the year 1106, in July, die natalis App. Petri et Pauli,
upon which account he took the name of Peter.
What is included between hooks is wanting in all the
mfï, which I have examined; it is plainly neceffary to the
fenfe, as it thews us what the fourth and fifth reafons of
Melibeus were to which Prudence replies: I have there-
fore inferted as literal à tranflation as I imagine Chaucer
might have made of the following paffage in the Fr.
Melibee, mf. Reg. 19. C. vii.:" Car il elt efcript, la gengleri.
des femmes ne puet riens celler fors ce qu'elle ne icet:
Apris le philofophre dit, en mauvais confeil les femmes
"vainquent les hommes, et par ces railous je ne dois point
**ufer de ton confeil" Tyrwhitt.
And as
THE TALE
131
OF MELIBEUS.
thinges that men oughten fecretly to hiden. And
fothly as to your fifthe refon, wheras ye fay that
in wicked confeil women venquiſhed men, God
wote that thilke refon ftant here in no fede; for
underſtondeth now ye axen confeil for to do
wickedneffe, and if ye wol werken wickedneffe,
and your wif reſtraineth thilke wicked purpos, and
overcometh you by refon and by good confeil,
certes your wif ought rather to be preiſed than to
be blamed: thus fhulde ye underſtonde the philo-
fophre that fayth, in wicked confeil women ven-
quifhen hir huſbondes. And ther as you blamen
all women and hir refons, I fhal fhewe you by
many enfamples that many women have ben ful
good, and yet ben, and hir confeil holefome and
profitable. Eke fom men han fayd that the conſeil
of women is either to dere or elles to litel of pris:
but al be it fo that ful many a woman be bad, and
hire confeil vile and nought worth, yet han men
founden ful many a good woman, and difcrete
and wife in confeilling. Lo Jacob, thurgh the
good confeil of his mother Rebecke, wan the be-
nifon of his father and the lordſhip over all his
brethren; Judith by hire good confeil delivered
the citee of Bethulie, in which the dwelt, out of
the honde of Holofern, that had it befeged, and
wolde it al deftroye; Abigail delivered Nabal
hire houſbond fro David the king, that wolde han
flain him, and appefed the ire of the king by hire
wit and by hire good confeilling; Hefter by hire
confeil enhaunced gretly the peple of God in the
regne of Affuerus the king; and the fame bountee
in good confeilling of many a good woman moun
men rede and tell. And further more, whan that
oure Lord had created Adam oure forme father
he fayde in this wife; It is not good to be a man
allonc; make we to him an helpe femblable to
himfelf. Here moun ye fee that if that women
weren not good, and hir conſeil good and profita-
ble, oure Lord God of heven wolde neither han
wrought hem ne called hem helpe of man, but
rather confufion of man. And ther fayd a clerk
ones in two vers, What is better than gold?
jafpre; what is better than jaſpre? wiſdom; and
what is better than wiſdom? woman; and what
is better than a good woman? nothing. And,
Sire, by many other refons moun ye feen that
many women ben good, and hir confeil good and
profitable and therefore, Sire, if ye wol trofte
to my confeil, I ſhall reftore you your doughter
hole and found, and I wol don to you fo muche
that ye fhuln have honour in this cas.
Whan Melibee had herd the wordes of his wif
Prudence, he fayd thus; I fe wel that the word of
Salomon is foth, for he faith that wordes that ben
ſpoken difcretly by ordinaunce ben honiecombes,
for they yeven fweteneffe to the foule and hol-
fomneffe to the body: and, wif, becauſe of thy
fwete wordes, and cke for I have preved and af-
faied thy grete fapience and thy grete trouthe, I
wol governe me by thy conſeil in alle thing.
Now, Sire, (quod Dame Prudence) and fn
that ye vouchsafe to be governed by my confeil, I
wol enforme you how that ye fhuln governe your-
felf in chefing of youre confeillours. Ye thula firft
in alle your werkes mekely befechen to the heigh
God that he wol be your confeillour, and ſhapeth
you to fwiche entente that he yeve you confeil
and comforte, as taught Tobie his fone; At alle
times thou shalt bleffe God, and preie him to
dreffe thy wayes; and loke that alle thy confeils
ben in him for evermore. Seint James eke fayth,
If any of you have nede of fapience, axe it of God.
And afterwarde than fhullen ye take confeil in
yourſelf, and examine wel your owen thoughtes
of ſwiche thinges as you thinketh that ben beſt
for your profit; and than fhuln
drive fro your
ye
herte three thinges that ben contrarious to good
confeil, that is to fayn, ire, coveitife, and haſtineffe.
Firſt, he that axeth confeil of himſelf, certes he
muſt be withouten ire for many caufes. The firſt
is this; he that hath gret ire and wrath in him-
felf, he weneth alway that he may do thing that
he may not do. And, fecondly, he that is irous
and wroth he may not wel deme; and he that may
not wel deme may not wel confeille. The thridde
is this; he that is irous and wroth, as fayth Senek,
ne may not ſpeke but blameful thinges, and with
his vicious wordes he ſtirreth other folk to anger
and to ire. And eke, Sire, ye muft drive coveitife
out of your herte; for the apoſtle fayth, that co-
veitife is the rote of all harmes and trofteth wel
that a coveitous man ne can not deme, ne thinke,
but only to fulfille the end of his coveitife, and
certes that ne may never ben accompliſed; for
ever the more haboundance that he hath of
richeffe, the more he deſireth.
And, Sire, ye
muſt alſo drive out of youre herte haftineffe; for
certes ye ne moun not deme for the beſte a foden
thought that falleth in your herte, but ye muſt
avife you on it ful ofte; for, as ye have herde.
herebeforn, the commune proverbe is this, He
that fone demeth fone repenteth.
Sire, ye ne be not alway in like difpofition, for
certes fom thing that fomtime femeth to you that
it is good for to do, another time it femeth to you
the contrarie.
And whan ye han taken confeil in yourſelf,
and han demed by good deliberation fwiche thing
as you femeth befte, than rede I you that ye kepe
it fecree. Bewreye not your confeil to no perfone,
but if fo be that ye wenen fikerly that thurgh
youre bewreying youre condition fhal ben to you
more profitable; for Jefus Sirak faith, Neither to
thy foo ne to thy frend diſcover not thy fecree, ne
thy folie; for they woln yeve you audience and
loking, and fupportation, in your prefence, and
fcorne you in youre abfence. Another clerk fayth,
that fearfly fhalt thou finden any perfone that may
kepe thy confeil fecrely. The book faith, While
that thou kepeft thy confeil in thin herte thou
kepeft it in thy prifon, and whan thou bewreyeſt
thy confeil to any wight, he holdeth thee in his
fnare: and therfore you is better to hide your
confeil in your herte than to preye him to whom
ye
han bewreyed youre confeil that he wol kepe
it clofe and ftille; for Seneca fayth, If fo be that
thoù ne mayft not thin owen confeil hide, how
dareft thou preyen any other wight thy confeil
fecrely to kepe? But natheles, if thou wene fiker-
X ij
I SZ
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS.
ly that thy bewreying of thy confeil to a perfone,
wol make thy condition to ftonden in the better
plight, than fhalt thou telle him thy confeil in
this wife. First, thou fhalt make no femblant
whether thee were lever pees or werre, or this
or that, ne fhewe him not thy will ne thin en-
tente; for trofte wel that communly thefe con-
feillours ben flaterers, namely the confeillours of
grete lordes, for they enforcen hem alway rather
to fpeken plefant wordes, enclining to the lordes
luft, than wordes that ben trewe or profitable, and
therfore men fayn that the riche mau hath felde
good confeil but if he have it of himfelf. And
after that thou fhalt confider thy frendes and
thin enemies. And as touching thy frendes, thou
fhalt confider which of hem ben moft feithful and
moft wife, and eldeſt and moſt appreved, in con-
feilling, and of hem fhalt thou axe thy confeil as
the cas requireth.
I fay, that firſt ye fhuln clepe to youre confeil
youre frendes that ben trewe; for Salomon faith,
that right as the herte of a man deliteth in favour
that is fwote, right fo the confcil of trewe frendes
yeveth fweteneffe to the foule: he fayth alſo,
Ther may nothing be likened to the trewe frend,
for certes gold ne filver ben not fo much worth as
the good will of a trewe frend: and eke he ſayth,
that a trewe frend is a ftrong defence; who fo
that it findeth, certes he findeth a gret trefor.
Than fhuln ye eke confider if that your trewe
frendes ben difcrete and wife; for the book faith,
Axe alway thy confeil of hem that ben wife.
And by this fame refen fhuln ye clepen to youre
confeil youre frendes that ben of age, fwiche as
han feyn and ben expert in many thinges, and
ben appreved in confeillinges; for the book fayth,
In olde men is al the fapience, and in longe time
the prudence: And Tullius fayth, that grete
thinges ne ben not ay accompliſed by ftrengthe
ne by deliverneffe of body, but by good confeil, by
auctoritee of perfones, and by feience; the which
three thinges ne ben not feble by age, but cer-
tes they enforcen and encrefen day by day. And
than fhuln ye kepe this for a general reule; firſt,
ye fhuln clepe to your confeil a fewe of your
frendes that ben efpecial; for Salomon faith, Many
frendes have thou, but among a thouſand chefe
thee on to be thy confeillour. For al be it fo that
thou first ne telle thy confeil but to a fewe, thou
mayeft afterwarde tell it to mo folk if it be nede.
But loke alway that thy confeillours have thilke
three conditions that I have fayd before; that is
to fay, that they be trewe, wife, and of olde ex-
perience. And werke not alway in every nede
by on confeillour allone, for fomtime behoveth it
to be confeilled by many; for Salomon fayth,
Salvation of thinges is wher as ther ben many
confeillours.
Now fith that I have told you of which folk ye
fhulde be confeilled, now wol I teche you which
confeil ye ought to efchue. First, ye fhuln efchue
the confeilling of fooles; for Salomon fayth, Take
no confeil of a fool, for he ne cannot confeille but
after his owen luft and his affection: the book
fayth, The propertee of a fool is this, he troweth
lightly harme of every man, and lightly troweth
all bountee in himſelf. Thou shalt eke efchue
the confeilling of all flaterers, fwiche as enforcen
hem rather to preifen youre perfone by flate-
rie, than for to tell you the fothfaftneffe of
thinges.
Wherfore Tullius fayth, Among alle the pefti-
lences that ben in frendſhip the greteft is flaterie;
and therfore it is more nede that thou eſchue and
drede flaterers than any other peple. The book
faith, Thou fhalt rather drede and flce fro the
fwete wordes of flatering preifers than fro the
egre wordes of thy frend that faith thee fothes :
Salomon faith, that the wordes of a flaterer is a
fnare to cacchen innocentes: he fayth alſo, He
that fpeketh to his frend wordes of fwetencffe
and of plefaunce, he fetteth a net beforne his feet
to cacchen him and therfore fayth Tullius, En-
cline not thin eres to flaterers, ne take no confeil
of wordes of flaterie: and Caton fayth, Aviſe
thee wel, and efchue wordes of fweteneffe and of
pleſaunce. And eke thou fhalt efchue the con-
feilling of thin olde enemies that ben reconciled.
The book fayth, that no wight retourneth ſafely
into the grace of his olde erremie: and Yfope
fayth, Ne troft not to hem to which thou haft
fomtime had werre or enmitee, ne telle hem not
thy confeil and Sének telleth the caufe why; It
may not be, fayth he, ther as gret fire hath long
time endured that ther ne dwelleth fom vapour
of warmneffe; and therfore faith Salomon, In
thin olde foo troft thou never; for fikerly though
thin enemie be reconciled, and maketh thee chere
of humilitee, and louteth to thee with his hed,
ne troft him never, for certes he maketh thilke
feined humilitee more for his profite than for any
love of thy perſone, becauſe that he demeth to
have victorie over thy perfone by fwiche feined
contenance, the which victorie he might not have
by ftrif of werre. And Peter Alphonſe ſayth,
Make no felawfhip with thin olde enemies, for
if thou do hem bountee they wollen perverten it
to wickedneffe. And eke thou muſt efchue the
confeilling of hem that ben thy fervaunts, and
beren thee gret reverence, for paraventure they
fein it more for drede than for love; and therfore
faith a philofophre in this wife, Ther is no wight
parfitly trewe to him that he to fore dredeth. And
Tullius fayth, Ther n'is no might fo gret of any
emperour that longe may endure, but if he have
more love of the peple than drede. Thou fhalt
alfo efchue the confeilling of folk that ben
dronkelewe, for they ne can no confeil hide; for
Salomon fayth, Ther n'is no privetee ther as reg-
neth dronkenneffe. Ye fhuln alfo have in fufpect
the confeilling of fwiche folk as confeille you o
thing prively, and confeille you the contrarie open-
ly; for Caffiodore fayth, that it is a manere fleighte
to hinder his enemy whan he fheweth to don a
thing openly, and werketh prively the contrary.
Thou shalt alfo have in fufpect the confeilling of
wicked folk, for hir confeil is alway ful of fraude.
And David fayth, Blisful is that man that hath
not folwed the confeilling of fhrewes. Thou shalt
alfo efchue the confeilling of yonge folk, for hir
confeilling is not ripe, as Salomon faith.
Now, Sire, fith I have fhewed you of which
THE TALE OF MELIBEU.S.
163
1
folk
ye fhullen take youre confeil, and of which
folk ye fhullen efchue the confeil, now wol I
teche you how ye fhuln examine your confeil after
the doctrine of Tullius. In examining than of
your confeillours, ye fhuln confidre many thinges.
Alder first, thou shalt confidre that in thilke thing
that thou purpoſeft, and upon what thing that
thou wolt have confeil, that veray trouthe be faid
and conferved; this is to, fay, telle trewely thy
tale; for he that fayth falfe may not wel be con-
feilled in that cas of which he lieth. And after
this thou fhalt confidre the thinges that accorden
to that thou purpoſeſt for to do by thy confeillours,
if refon accord therto, and eke if thy might may
atteine therto, and if the more part and the bet-
ter part of thin confeillours accorden therto or
no. Than fhalt thou confidre what thing fhal
folwe of that confeilling, as hate, pees, werre,
grace, profite, or domage, and many other thinges,
and in alle thinges thou fhalt chefe the befte,
and weive all other thinges. Than fhalt thou
confidre of what roote is engendred the matere
of thy confeil, and what fruit it may conceive
and engendre. Thou shalt eke confidre alle
the caufes from whennes they ben fprongen.
And whan thou haft examined thy confeil, as
I have faid, and which partie is the better and
more profitable, and haft appreved it by many
wife folk and olde, than fhalt thou confidre
if thou mayft performe it and maken of it a
good ende; for certes reion wol not that any man
fhulde beginne a thing but if he mighte performe
it as him oughte, ne no wight fhulde take upon
him fo hevy a charge that he might not beren it,
for the proverbe fayth, He that to muche em
braceth diſtreineth litel; and Caton faith, Affay
to do fwiche thinges as thou haft power to don,
left the charge oppreffe thee fo fore that thee be-
hoveth to weive thing that thou haft begonne.
And if fo be that thou be in doute whether thou
mayft performe a thing or non, chefe rather to
fuffre than to beginne, And Peter Alphonfe
fayth, If thou haft might to don a thing of which
thou muſt repente, it is better nay than ya; this
is to fayn, that thee is better to holde thy tonge
fille than for to fpeke. Than mayit thou under-
ftonde by ftronger refons, that if thou haft power
to performe a werk of which thou fhalt repente,
than is thee better that thou fuffre than beginne.
Wel fayn they that defenden every wight to
affaye a thing of which he is in doute whether
he may performe it or non. And after whan ye
han examined your confeil as I have faid beforne,
and knowen wel that ye moun performe your
emprife, conferme it than fadly til it be at an ende.
Now is it refon and time that I fhewe you whan
and wherfore that you maun chaunge your con-
feil withouten repreve. Sothly a man may change
his purpos and his confeil if the caufe cefeth, or
whan a newe cas betideth; for the lawe faith, that
upon thinges that newly betiden behoveth newe
confeil; and Seneca fayth, If thy confeil is comen
to the eres of thin enemies chaunge thy confeil.
Thou mayft alfo chaunge thy confeil, if fo be
that thou find that by errour or by other caufe,
harme or damage may betide: alſo if thy confeil
be difhonefte, other clles come of difhonefte cauſe,
chaunge thy confeil; for the lawes fain that all
beheftes that ben diſhoneſte ben of no value ; and
eke if fo be that it be impoffible, or may not
goodly be performed or kept.
And take this for a general reule, that every
confeil that is affermed fo ftrongly that it may not
be chaunged for no condition that may betide, I
fay that thilke confeil is wicked.
This Melibeus, whan he had herd the doctrine
of his wif Dame Prudence, anſwered in this
wife: Dame, quod he, as yet unto this time ye
han wel and covenably taught me, as in general,
how I fhal governe me in the chefing and in the
withholding of my copfeillours; but now wold I
fain that you wold condefcend in eſpecial, and
telle me how liketh you or what feaneth you by
oure counfeillours that we han chofen in oure pre-
fent nede.
My Lord, quod fhe, I befeche you in alle hum-
bleffe that ye wol not wilfully replie agein my
refons, ne diftempre your herte, though I ſpeke
thing that you difplefe, for God wote that as in
min entente I fpeke it for your beſte, for youre
honour and for youre profit eke, and fothly I hope
that youre benignitee wol taken it in patience.
And trofteth me wel, quod fhe, that youre con-
feil as in this cas ne fhulde not (as to fpeke propre-
ly) be called a confeilling, but a motion or a-
meving of folie, in which confeil ye han erred in
many a fondry wife.
First and forward, ye han erred in the affem-
bling of youre confeillours, for ye fholde firſt han
cleped a fewe folk to youre confeil, and after ye
mighte han fhewed it to mo folk if it hadde be
nede; but certes ye han fodeinly cleped to your
confeil a gret multitude of peple, ful chargeant,
and ful anoyous for to here. Alfo ye han erred,
for ther as ye fhulde han only cleped to youre con-
feile youre trewe frendes olde and wife, ye han
cleped firaunge folk, yonge folk, falfe flaterers,
and enemies reconciled, and folk that don you re-
verence withouten love. And eke ye han erred,
for ye han brought with you to youre confeil ire,
coveitife, and haftifneſſe, the which three thinges
ben contrary to every confeil honeft and profitable,
the which three thinges ye ne han not anientiffed
or deftroyed neither in yourefelf ne in youre con-
feillours as you ought. Ye han erred alfo, for ye
han fhewed to youre confeillours youre talent and
youre affections to make werre anon, and for to
do vengeaunce, and they han efpied by youre
wordes to what thing ye ben enclined, and ther-
fore han they confeilled you rather to youre ta-
lent than to youre profite. Ye han erred alſo, for
it femeth that you fufficeth to han ben confeilled-
by thife confeillours only, and with lite avis,
wheras in fo high and fo gret a nede it had ben
neceffarie mo confeillours and more deliberation
to performe youre emprife. Ye han erred alfo,
for ye han not examined your confeil in the
forefaid manere, ne in due manere as the cas
requireth. Ye han erred alfo, for ye han maked
no divifion betwix youre confeillours; this is te
1 iij
734
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS.
الله
fayn, betwix youre trewe frendes and youre
feined confeillours; ne ye han not knowe the
wille of youre trewe frendes olde and wife,
but ye han caft alle hir wordes in an hochepot,
and enclined your herte to the more part and
to the greter nombre, and ther be ye con-
deſcended; and fith ye wot wel that men fhuln
alway finde a greter nombre of fooles than
of wife men, and therfore the confeillings that
ben at congregations and multitudes of folk, ther
as men take more regard to the nombre than to-
the fapience of perfones, ye feen wel that in fwiche
confeillings fooles han the maiftrie. Melibeus
Melibeus
anſwered and faid agein; I graunte wel that I
have erred, but ther as thou haft told me herebe-
forne that he n'is not to blame that chaungeth
his confeil in certain cas, and for certain and juſt
cauſes, I am al ready to chaunge my confeil right
as thou wolt devife. The proverbe fayth, For to
don finne is mannifh, but certes for to perfevere
in finne is werke of the devil.
To this fentence anſwered anon Dame Pru-
dence, and faide; Examineth (quod fhe) wel your
confeil, and let us fee the which of hem han ſpoken
moſt reſonably, and taught you beſt confeil: and
for as muche as the examination is neceffarie, let
as beginne at the furgiens and at the phyficiens
that firſt ſpaken in this mater. I ſay that phyficiens
and furgiens han fayde you in youre confeil dif-
cretly as hem oughte, and in hir fpeche faiden ful
wifely that to the office of hem apperteineth to
don to every wight honour and profite, and no
wight to apoye, and after hir craft to don gret
diligence unto the cure of hem which that they
han in hir governaunce. And, Sire, right as they
han anſwered wifely and difcretly, right fo rede
I that they be highly and foverainly guerdoned
for hir noble ſpeche, and eke for they fhulden do
the more ententif befineffe in the curation of thy
dere doughter for al be it ſo that they ben youre
frendes, therfore fhullen ye not fuffren that they
ferve you for nought, but ye oughte the rather
guerdene hem, and fhewe hem youre largeffe.
And as touching the propofition which the phy-
ficiens entreteden in this cas, this is to fain,
that in maladies that a contrarie is warifhed by
another contrarie, I wold fain knowe how ye un-
derftonde thilke text, and what is your fentence.
Certes, quod Melibeus, I underſtond it in this
wife, that right as they han don me a contrarie,
righte fo fhulde I don hem another; for right as
they han venged hem upon me and don me
wrong, right fo fhal I venge me upon hem and
don hem wrong, and than have I cured a contra-
rie by another.
Lo, lo! quod Dame Prudence, how lightly is
every man enclined to his owen defire and his
gwen plefance Certes (quod fhe) the wordes of
the phyficiens ne fhulden not han ben underſtonden
in that wife, for certes wickedneffe is not contra-
rie to wickedneffe, ne vengeaunce to vengeance,
ne wrong to wrong, but they ben femblable, and
and therfore a vengeaunce is not warifhed by ano-
ther vengeaunce, ne a wrong by another wrong,
but everich of hem encrefeth and aggreggeth o-
|
ther. But certes the wordes of the phyficiens
fhulden ben underſtonde in this wife, for good
and wickedneffe ben two contraries, and pees and
werre, vengeaunce and fuffraunce, difcord and ac-
cord, and many other thinges; but certes wick-
edneſſe ſhal be warifhed by goodneffe, difcord by
accord, werre by pees, and fo forth of other thinges.
And hereto accordeth Seint Poule the apoſtle in
many places; he fayth, Ne yelde not harme for
harme, ne wicked fpeche for wicked ſpeche, but
do wel to him that doth to thee harme, and bleſſe
him that faith to thee harme: and in many other
places he amonefteth pees and accord. But now
wol I fpeke to you of the confeil which that was
yeven to you by the men of lawe, and the wife
folk and old folke, that fayden alle by on accord as
ye han herd beforne, that over alle thinges ye
fhuln do your diligence to kepe your perfone, and
to warneſtore your houfe; and faiden alfo, that in
this cas you oughte for to werchen ful aviſely and
with gret deliberation. And, Sire, as to the firſt
point, that toucheth the keping of youre perfone,
ye shuln underſtond that he that hath werre fhal
ever more devoutly and mekely preien beforne
alle thinges that Jefu Crift of his mercie wol han
him in his protection, and ben his foveraine help-
ing at his nede; for certes in this world ther is
no wight that may be confeilled ne kept fuffifantly
withoute the keping of oure Lord Jeſu Criſt. To
this fentence accordeth the prophete David, that
fayth, If God ne kepe the citee in idel waketh he
that kepeth it. Now, Sire, than fhuln ye committe
the keping of youre perfone to youre trewe frendes
that ben appreved and yknowe, and of hem fhuln
ye axen helpe youre perfone for to kepe; for Ca-
ton faith, If thou have nede of helpe, axe it of thy
frendes, for ther n'is non fo good a phyficien as
thy trewe frend. And after this than fhuln ye
kepe you fro alle ftraunge folk, and fro lieres, and
have alway in ſuſpect hir compaignie; for Piers
Alphonfe fayth, Ne take no compaignie by the way
of a ſtraunge man, but if fo be that thou have
knowen him of lenger time; and if ſo be that he
falle into thy compaignie paraventure withouten
thin affent, enquere than as fubtilly as thou maiſt
of his converfation, and of his lif beforne, and
feine thy way, faying thou wolt go thider as thou
wolt not go; and if he bere a fpere hold thee on
the right fide, and if he bere a fwerd hold thee on
his left fide. And after this than fhuln ye kepe
you wifely from all fwiche manere peple as I
have fayed before, and hem and hir confeil efchue.
And after this than fhuln ye kepe you in fwiche
manere that for any prefumption of youre ftrengthe
that ye ne deſpiſe not ne account not the might
of your adverfary fo lite that ye let the keping of
youre perfone for your prefumption,for every wiſe
man dredeth his enemie: and Salomon fayth,
Welful is he that of alle hath drede; for certes he
that thurgh the hardineffe of his herte, and thurgh
the hardineffe of himfelf, hath to gret prefumption,
him fhal evil betide. Than fhuln ye evermo coun-
trewaite emboyffements and alle efpiaile; for Se-
nek fayth, that the wife man that dredeth harmes
efchueth harmes, ne he ne falleth into perils that
THE TALE
135
OF MELIBEUS.
perils efchueth. And al be it fo that it feme that
thou art in fiker place, yet fhalt thou alway do
thy diligence in keping of thy perfone; this is to
fayn, ne be not negligent to kepe thin perfone
not only fro thy greteft enemy but alſo fro thy
lefte enemy. Senek fayth, A man that is wel
aviſed he dredeth his lefte enemie; Ovide ſayth,
that the litel wefel wol flee the gret boll and the
wilde hart; and the book fayth, A litel thorne
may prikke a king ful fore; and a litel hound wol
hold the wilde bore. But natheles I fay not thou
halt be fo coward that thou doute wher as is no
drede. The book faith that * fom men [han taught
he hir deceivour, for they han to much dreded]
to be deceived. Yet fhalt thou drede to be em-
poyfoned and [therfore fhalt thou] kepe thee fro
the compagnie of fcorners; for the book fayth,
With fcorners ne make no compagnie, but flee hir
wordes as venime.
Now as to the fecond point, wheras youre wife
confeillours confeilled you to warneftore your hous
with gret diligence, I wold. fain knowe how that
ye underſtonde thilke wordes, and what is your
fentence.
Melibeus answered and faide; Certes I under-
ſtond it in this wife, that I fhal warneftore min
hous with toures, fwiche as han caftelles and other
manere edifices, and armure, and artelries, by
which thinges I may my perfone and myn hous
fo kepen and defenden that min enemies fhuln
ben in drede min hous for to approche.
To this fentence anfwered anon Prudence:
Warneftoring (quod fhe) of heighe toures and
of gret edifices, is with grete coftages and with
grete travaille, and whan that they ben accom-
pliced yet ben they not worth a ftre, but if they
ben defended by trewe frendes that ben olde and
wife. And underſtonde wel that the gretefte
and ſtrongeſte garnefon that a riche man may
have, as wel to kepen his perfone as his goodes, is,
that he be beloved with his fubgets and with his
neigheboures; for thus fayth Tullius, that ther
is a maner garnefon that no man may venquifh
ne diſcomfite, and that is a lord to be beloved of
his citizeins and of his peple.
Now, Sire, as to the thridde point, wheras youre
olde and wife confeillours fayden that you ne
oughte not fodeinly ne haftily proceden in this
nede, but that yon oughte purveyen and appareilen
you in this cas with gret diligence and gret deli-
gret deli.
beration, trewely I trowe that they fayden right
wifely and right foth; for Tullius fayth, In every
nede er thou beginne it appareile thee with gret
diligence. Than fay I that in vengaunce taking in
werre, in bataille, and in warneftoring, er thou be-
ginne I rede that thou appareile thee therto, and
do it with gret deliberation; for Tullius fayth
* This paffage, which is defe&ive in all the mff. I have
patched up as well as I could, by adding the words between
hooks from the French velibee, where it ftands thus ;
"Aucunes gens ont enfeigne leur decevour, car ils on
G&
trop doubte que on ne les deceuft. Apres tu te dois
garder de venim, et li te dois garder de compaignie de
inoqueurs, car il eft efcript, Avec les moqueurs n'aies
compaigne, et fuy Icurs paroles comme iç venim.”…….
Tyrwhitt
that longe appareiling tofore the bataille maketh
fhort victorie; and Caffiodorus fayth, The garne-
fon is ſtronger whan it is longe time aviſed.
Let us
But now let us fpeken of the confeil that was
accorded by youre neigheboures fwiche as don
you reverence withouten love, youre olde ene
mies reconciled, your flatereres, that confeilled you
certain thinges prively, and openly confeilled you
the contrarie, the yonge folk alfo, that confeilled
you to venge you and to make werre anon. Cer-
tes, Sire, as I have fayde beforne, ye han gretly
erred to han cleped fwiche maner folk to youre
confeil, which confeillours ben ynough reproved
by the refons aforefaid: but natheles, let us now
defcende to the ſpecial. Ye fhul firſt proceden af-
ter the doctrine of Tullius. Certes the trouthe
of this matere or of this confeil nedeth not dili-
gently to enquire, for it is wel wift which they
ben that han don to you this trespas and vilanie,
and how many treſpaſours, and in what manere,
they han don to you all this wrong and all this
vilanie. And after thi than fhuln ye examine the
fecond condition which that the fame Tullius ad-
deth in this matere; for Tullius putteth a thing
which that he clepeth Confenting; this to fayn,
who ben they, and which ben they, and how many,
that confenten to thy conſeil in thy wilfulneſſe to
don haftif vengeaunce. And let us confidre alfo
who ben they, and how many ben they, and which
ben they, that confenteden to youre adverfaries.
As to the first point, it is wel knowen which folk
they be that confenteden to youre wilfulneffe,
for trewely all tho that confeileden you to maken
fodein werre ne ben not youre frendes.
now confidre which ben they that ye holden ſo
gretly youre frendes as to youre perfone, for al be
it ſo that ye be mighty and riche, certes ye ne ben
but allone; for certes ye ne han no child but a
doughter, ne ye ne han no brethren, ne cofins
germains, ne non other nigh kinrede, wherfore
that your enemies for drede fhulde ftinte to plede
with you or to deſtroye youre perfone. Ye know-
en alfo that your richeffes moten ben difpended
in diverfe parties, and whan that every wight
hath his part they ne wollen taken but litel regard
to venge youre deth. But thin enemies ben three,
and they han many brethren, children, cofins, and
other nigh kinrede; and though fo were that
thou haddeſt flain of hem two or three, yet dwel-
len ther
len ther ynow to wreken hir deth, and to flee thy
perfone. And though fo be that youre ki rede be
more ſtedefaft and fiker than the kin of your ad-
verfaries, yet natheles youre kinrede is but a fer
kinrede; they ben but litel fibbe to you, and the
kin of youre enemies ben uigh fibbe to hem; and
certes as in that hir condition is better than
youres. Than let us confidere alfo of the confeil-
ling of hem that confeilled you to take fodein
vengeaunce, whether it accorde to refon; and
certes ye knowe wel nay; for as by right and re-
fon ther may no man taken vengeance on no
wight but the juge that hath the jurifdiction of
it, whan it is ygraunted him to take thilke ven.
geaunce haflily or attemprely as the lawe requireth,
Į iij
136
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS:
|
And moreover of thilke word that i ullius clepeth, founden hony, etc of it that fufficeth; for if thou
Confenting, thou fhalt confidere if thy might and ete of it out of mefure thou fhalt fpewe, and be
thy power may confente and fuffice to thy wil nedy and poure. And peraventure Criſt hath
wil-nedy
fulneffe and to thy confeillours; and certes thou thee in defpit, and hath tourned away fro thee his
mayeft wel fay that Nay; for fikerly, as for to face and his eres of mifericorde, and alſo he hath
fpeke proprely, we moun do nothing but only fuffred that thou haft ben puniſhed in the manere
fwiche thing as we moun don rightfully; and that thou haſt ytrefpafed. Thou haft don finne
certes rightfully ye ne mowe take no vengeaunce, again oure Lord Crift, for certes the three ene-
as of your propre auctorite. Than mowe ye fen mies of mankind, that is to fayn, the flesh, the
that your power ne conſenteth not ne accordeth fend, and the world, thou haſt ſuffred hem entre
not to your wilfulneffe. Now let us examine the into thin herte wilfully by the windowes of thy
thridde point, that Tullius clepeth Confequent. body, and haft not defended thyfelf fuffifantly
Thou ſhalt underſtonde that the vengeaunce that agein hir affautes and hir temptations, ſo that
thou purpoſeſt for to take is the confequent, and they han wounded thy foule in five places; this is
theroffolweth another vengeaunce, peril, andwerre, to fayn, the dedly finnes that ben entred into
and other damages without nombre, of which we thyn herte by thy five wittes and in the fame
ben not ware as at this time. And as touching the manere our Lord Crift hath wold and fuffred
fourthe point, that Tullius clepeth Engendering, that thy three enemies ben entred into thyn hous
thou fhalt confider that this wrong which that is by the windowes, and han ywounded thy dough-
don to thee is engendred of the hate of thin ene- ter in the forefayd manere.
mies, and of the vengeaunce taking upon that
wold engender another vengeaunce, and muchel
forwe and waſting of richeffes, as I fayde ere,
Now, Sire, as to the point that Tullius clepeth
Caufes, which that is the laſt point, thou shalt un-
derftonde that the wrong that thou haft received
hath certaine caufes which that clerkes clepen
oriens and eficiens, and caufa longinqua, and caufa
propinqua; this is to fayn, the fer cauſe and the
nigh caufe. The fer cauſe is almighty God, that
is caufe of alle thinges; the ner cauſe is thin three
enemies; the cauſe accidental was hate; the cauſe
material ben the five woundes of thy doughter;
the cauſe formal is the maner of hir werking, that
broughten ladders and clomben in at thy win-
dowes; the cauſe final was for to flee thy dough-
ter: it letted not in as muche as in hem was.
But for to fpeke of the fer caufe, as to what ende
they fhuld come, or what fhal finally betide of
hem in this cas, ne can I not deme but by conje&-
ing and ſuppoſing; for we fhuln fuppofe that they
fhuln come to a wicked ende, becaufe that the
book of Decrees fayth, Selden or with gret peine
ben caufes ybrought to a good ende whan they
ben badly begonnc.
Now, Sire, if men wold aven me why that God
fuffred men to do you this vilanie, certes I can not
wel anfwer as for no fothfaftneffe; for the apoſtle
fayth that the ſciences and the jugements of oure
Lord God Almighty ben ful depe; ther may no
man comprehend ne ferche hem fuffifantly; na-
theles, by certain prefumptions and conjectings I
hold and beleve that God, which that is ful of juf-
tice and of rightwifeneffe, hath fuffered this betide
by juft caufe refonable.
Thy name is Melibee, this is to fayn, a man
that drinketh hony. Thou haft dronke fo muche
hony of fwete temporel richeffes, and delices, and
honours of this world, that thou art dronken, and
haft forgetten Jefu Crift thy creatour thou ne
haft not don to him fwiche honour and reverence
as thee ought, ne thou ne haft wel ytaken kepe to
the wordes of Ovide, that fayth, Under the honey
of the goodes of thy body is hid the venime that
fleth the foule; and Salomon fayth, If thou haft
Certes, quod Melibee, I fee wel that ye enforce
you muchel by wordes to overcomen me in fwiche
manere that I fhal not venge me on min enemies,
fhewing me the perils and the evils that mighten
falle of this vengeaunce; but who fo wolde confi-
dre in all vengeaunces the perils and evils that
mighten fue of vengeaunce taking a man wold ne-
ver take vengeaunce, and that were harme; for by
the vengeaunce taking ben the wicked men diffe-
vered fro the goode men, and they that han will
to do wickedneffe reftreinen hir wicked purpos
whan they fen the punishing and the chaſtiſing
* of the trefpafours. [To this anfwered Dame
Prudence Certes, quod fhe, I graunte you that
of vengeaunce taking cometh muche evil and
muche good; but vengeaunce taking apperteincth
not to everich on, but only to juges, and to hem
that han the jurifdiction over the trefpafours.]
And yet fay I more, that right as a finguler per-
fne finneth in taking vengeaunce of another man,
right fo finneth the juge if he do no vengeaunce of
hem that it han deſerved; for Senek fayth thus.
That mafter (he fayth) is good that preveth
fhrewes; and Caffiodore fayth, A man dredeth to
do outrages whan he wot and knoweth that it dif
plefeth to the juges and foveraines; and another
fayth, The juge that dredeth to do right maketh
men fhrewes; and Seint Poule the apoftle fayth
in his epiftle, whan he writeth unto the Romaines,
that the juges beren not the fpere withouten
caufe, but they beren it to punishe the fhrewes
and mifdoers, and for to defende the goode men.
If ye wiln than take vengeaunce of youre enemies,
ye fhuln retourne or have your recours to the juge
that hath the jurifdiction upon hem, and he fhal
punifhe hem as the lawe axeth and requireth.
A! fayd Melibee, this vengeaunce liketh me
nothing.
nothing. I bethink me now and take hede how
$6
CL
*The following paffage, which the reader will fee to be
very material to the fenfe, I have tranflated from the
French, and inferted between crotchets, as before; tt
a ce reſpont Dame Prudence: Certes, dit elle, le t'ot-
"trove que de vengeance vient molt de maulx et de biens,
"mais vengeance n'appartient pas a un chafcun, fors feu-
"lement aux juges et à ceux qui ont la juridicion fur les
"maltaiteurs"---Tyrwhitt.
4
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS.
137
i..
that Fortune hath nouriſhed me from my child-
hode, and hath holpen me to paffe many a ſtronge
pas: nowwol I affayen hire, trowing with Goddes
helpe that the fhal helpe me. my fhame for to
venge.
Certes, quod Prudence, if ye wol werke by my
confeil ye fhuln not affaye Fortune by no way, ne
ye ne fhuln not lene or bowe unto hire, after the
wordes of Senek; for thinges that ben folily don,
and tho that ben don in hope of Fortune, fhuln
never come to good ende. And as the fame Senek
fayth, The more clere and the more fhining that
Fortune is, the more brotel and the ſoner broke ſhe
is. Truſteth not in hire, for fhe n'is not ſtedefaft
ne ftable, for whan thou troweft to be moſt fiker
and feure of hire helpe, fhe wol faille and deceive
thee. And wheras ye fayn that Fortune hath
nouriſhed you fro youre childhode, I fay that in ſo
muchel ye fhuln the leffe trufte in hire and in hire
wit; for Senek faith, What man that is norifhed
by Fortune fhe maketh him a gret fool. Now
than fin ye defire and axe vengeaunce, and the
vengeaunce that is don after the lawe and before
the juge ne liketh you not, and the vengeaunce
that is don in hope of Fortune is perilous and un-
certain, than have ye non other remedie but for
to have your recours unto the foveraine juge that
vengeth alle vilanies and wronges, and he fhal
venge you; after that himſelf witneffeth wheras
he faith, Leveth the vengeaunce to me, and I ſhal
do it.
Melibeus anſwered, If I ne venge me of the
vilanie that men han don to me, I fompne or warne
hem that has don to me vilanie, and alle other, to
do me another vilanie; for it is written, If thou
take no vengeaunce of an olde vilany, thou fomp-
neft thin adverfaries to do thee a newe vilanie:
and alfo for my fuffraunce men wolden do me
ſo muche vilanie, that I might neither bere it ne
fufteine, and fo fhulde ben put and holden over
lowe; for fom men fain, In muchel fuffring fhal
many thinges falle unto thee which thou shalt not
mowe fuffre.
Certes, quod Prudence, I graunte you wel that
overmuchel fuffraunce is not good, but yet ne fol-
weth it not therof that every perfone to whom
men don vilanie fhuld take of it vengeaunce, for
that apperteineth and longeth all only to the ju-
ges, for they fhul venge the vilanies and injuries;
and therfore tho two auctoritees that ye han fayd❘
above ben only underftonden in the juges, for
whan they fuffren overmuchel the wronges and
vilanies to be don withouten punishing, they
fompne not a man all only for to do newe wronges,
but they commaundenit; al fo as a wife man fayth,
that the juge that correcteth not the finner com-
maundeth and biddeth him do finne and the
juges and foveraines mighten in hir lond fo muche
fuffre of the fhrewes and mifdoers, that they fhuld
en by fwiche fuffraunce by proces of time wexen of
fwiche power and might, that they fhulde putte
out the juges and the foveraines from hir places,
and atte lafte maken him lefe hir lordfhippes.
But now let us putte that ye have leve to venge
you: I fay ye be not of might and power as now
to venge you; for if ye wol maken compariſon un-
to the might of youre adverfaries, ye fhuln finde
in many thinges that I have fhewed you er this
that hir condition is better than youres, and ther-
fore ſay I that it is good as now that ye fuffre and
be patient.
Forthermore, ye knowen wel that after the
commune faw it is a woodneſſe a man to ſtrive
with a ſtronger or a more mighty man than he is
himfelf; and for to ftrive with a man of even
ftrengthe, that is to fay, with as ftrong a man as
he is, it is peril; and for to ſtrive with a weker
man it is folie; and therfore fhulde a man flee
ftriving as muchel as he mighte; for Salomon
fayth, It is a gret worship to a man to kepe him
fro noife and ftrif. And if it ſo happe that a man
of greter mighte and ftrengthe than thou art do
thee grevaunce, ftudie and befie thee rather te
ftille the fame grevaunce than for to venge thee;
for Senek fayth, That he putteth him in a grete pe-
ril that ftriveth with a greter man than he is him-
felf; and Caton fayth, If a man of higher eftat or
degree, or more mighty than thou, do thee anoye
or grevance, fuffre him; for he that ones hath gre-
ved thee may another time releve thee and helpe
thee. Yet fette I cas ye have bothe might and li-
cence for to venge you; I fay that ther ben ful many
thinges that fhuln reftreine you of vengeaunce
taking, and make you for to encline to fuffre and
for to han patience in the wronges that han ben
don to you. First and forward, if ye wol confi-
dre the defautes that ben in youre owen perfone,
for which defautes God hath fuffred you have this
tribulation, as I have fayd to you herebeforne; for
the poete fayth, that we oughten patiently taken
the tribulations that comen to us, whan that we
thinken and confideren that we han deferved to
han her; and Seint Gregorie fayth, that whan a
man confidereth wel the nombre of his defautes
and of his finnes, the peines and the tribulations
that he ſuffereth femen the leffe unto him; and
in as muche as him thinketh his finnes more hevy
and grevous, in fo muche femeth his peine the
lighter and the efier unto him. Alfo ye owen to
encline and bowe youre herte to take the patience
of oure Lord Jefu Crift, as fayth Seint Peter in his
Epiftles. Jefu Crift (he fayth) hath fuffred for us,
and yeven enfample to every man to folwe and
fue him, for he did never finne, ne never came
ther vilains word out of his mouth. Whan men
curfed him he curfed hem nought, and whan men
beten him he manaced hem nought. Alfo the gret
patience which feintes that ben in Paradis han had
in tribulations that they han fuffred withouten hir
defert or gilt, oughte puchel ftirre you to pa-
tience. Forthermore, ye fhulde enforce you to
have patience, confidering that the tribulations of
this world but litel while endure, and fone paffed
ben and gon, and the joye that a man feketh to
han by patience in tribulations is perdurable; af-
ter that the apoſtle fayth in his epiftle, The joye
of God, he fayth, is perdurable, that is to fayn,
everlaſting. Alfo troweth and beleveth ſtedfaſtly
that he n'is not wel ynorifhed ne wel ytaught
that cannot have patience, or wol not receive pa-
+
138
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS.
tience; for Salomon fayth, that the doctrine and
wit of a man is knowen by patience; and in an-
other place he fayth, that he that is patient go-
verneth him by gret prudence: and the fame Sa-
Jomon fayth, The angrie and wrathful man mak-
eth noifes, and the patient man attempteth and
filleth hem he faith alfo, It is more worth to be
patient than to be right ftrong; and he that may
have the lordfhipe of his owen herte is more to
preife than he that by his force or ftrengthe tak-
eth gret citces and therfore fayth Scint James in
his epiftle, that patience is a gret vertue of perfec-
tion.
Certes, quod Melibee, I graunte you, Dame
Prudence, that patience is a gret vertue of perfec-
tion, but every man may not have the perfection
that ye feken; ne I am not of the nombre of the
right parfit men, for min herte may never be in
pes unto the time it be venged And al be it fo
that it was gret peril to min enemies to do me a
vilanie in taking vengeaunce upon me, yet token
they non hede of the peril, but fulfilleden hir
wicked will and hir corage; and therfore me
thinketh men oughten not repreve me though I
put me in a litcl peril for to venge me, and though
I do a gret exceffe, that is to fayn, that I venge on
outrage by another.
A! quod Dame Prudence, ye fayn your will and
as you liketh; but in no cas of the world a man
hulde not don outrage ne exceffe for to vengen
him; for Caffiodore fayth, that as evil doth he
that vengeth him by outrage as he that doth the
outrage; and therfore ye fhuln venge you after
the ordre of right, that is to fayn, by the lawe, and
not by exceffe ne by outrage. And alfo if ye wol
venge you of the outrage of youre adverfaries in
other manere than right commaundeth ye finnen;
and therfore fayth Senek, that a man ſhal never
venge threwedneffe by fhrewedneffe. And if ye
fay that right axeth a man to defende violence
by violence, and fighting by fighting, certes ye fay
foth, whan the defence is don withouten inter-
valle, or withouten tarying or delay, for to de-
fende him, and not for to venge: and it behoveth
that a man putte fwiche attemperaunce in his de-
fence that men have no caufe ne mater to repreve
him that defendeth him of outrage and exceffe,
for elles were it againe refon. Parde ye knowen
wel that ye maken no defence as now for to de-
fende you, but for to venge you, and ſo flreweth
it that ye han no will to do your dede attempre-
ly; and therfore me thinketh that patience is
good; for Salomon fayth, that he that is not pa-
tient fhal have gret harme.
Certes, quod Melibee, I graunte you that whan
a man is impatient and wrothe of that that touch-
eth him not, and that apperteineth not unto him,
though it harme him, it is no wonder; for the lawe
faith that he is coupable that entremeteth or med-
leth with fwiche thing as apperteineth not unto
him; and Salomon faith, that he that entremet-
eth of the noife or ftrif of another man is like to
him that taketh a ftraunge hound by the eres; for
right as he that taketh a flraunge hound by the
cres is other while biten with the hound, right in
|
the fame wife it is refon that he have harme
that by his impatience medleth him of the noiſe
of another man, wheras it apperteineth not unto
him. But ye knowe wel that this dede, that is
to fayn, my greef and my difefe, toucheth me
right nigh; and therfore though I be wroth and
impatient it is no mervaile: and (faving your
grace) I cannot fee that it might gretly harme me
though I took vengeaunce, for I am richer and
more mighty than min enemies ben; and wel
knowe ye that by money and by having grete
poffeffions ben alle thinges of this world govern-
ed; and Salomon fayth that alle thinges obeye to
money.
Whan Prudence had herd hire hufbond avaunte
him of his richeffe and of his money, difpreifing
the power of his adverſaries, ſhe ſpake and fayd in
this wife Certes, dere Sire! I graunte you that
ye ben riche and mighty, and that richeffes ben
good to hem that han wel ygeten hem, and that
wel conne ufen hem; for right as the body of a
man may not liven withouten foul, no more may it
liven withouten temporel goodes, and by richeffes
may a man gete him grete frendes; and therfore
fayth Pamphilus, If a netherdes doughter (he
fayth) be riche, fhe may chefe of a thouſand men
which the wol take to hire hufbond; for of a
thousand men on wol not forfaken hire ne refuſen
hire. And this Pamphilus faith alfo, If thou be
right happy, that is to fayn, if thou be right
riche, thou shalt finde a gret nombre of felawes
and frendes; and if thy fortune chaunge, that
thou wexe poure, farewel frendſhipe and felaw-
fhipe, for thou shalt be al allone withouten any
compaigne, but if it be the compaignie of poure
folk. And yet fayth this Pamphilus moreover,
that they that ben bond and thralle of linage
fhuln be made worthy and noble by richeffes.
And right fo as by richeffes ther comen many
goodes, right fo by poverte come ther many
harmes and eviles, for gret poverte conftreineth
a man to do many eviles: and therfore clepeth
Caffiodore poverte the moder of ruine, that is to
fayn, the moder of overthrowing or falling doun
and therfore fayth Piers Alfonfe, On of the gret-
eft adverfitees of this world is whan a free man
by kinde, or of birthe, is conftreined by poverte
to eten the almeffe of his enemie. And the fame
fayth Innocent in on of his bookes: he fayth,
that forweful and mifhappy is the condition of a
poure begger, for if he axe not his mete he dieth
for hunger, and if he axe he dieth for fhame
and algates neceffitee confreineth him to axe;
and therfore fayth Salomon, that better it is
to die than for to have fwiche poverte; and,
as the fame Salomon fayth, Better it is to die of
bitter deth than for to liven in ſwiche wife. By
thife refons that I have faid unto you, and by
many other refons that I coude faye, I graunte
you that richeffes ben good to hem that wel geten
hem, and to hem that wel ufen tho richeffes; and
therfore wol I fhewe you how ye fhuln behave
you in gadering of your richeffes, and in what
nianere ye fluli ufen hem.
;
р
i
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS.
139
Firſt ye fhuln geten hem withouten gret de-
fir, by good leifer, fokingly, and not over haftifly,
for a man that is to defiring to get richeffes aban-
doneth him firfte to thefte and to alle other
eviles; and therfore fayth Salomon, He that haft-
eth him to befily to wexe riche he ſhal be non in-
nocent: he fayth alfo, that the richeffe that ha-
ftily cometh to a man fone and lightly goeth and
paffeth from a man, but that richeffe that cometh
litel and litel wexeth alway and multiplieth. And,
Sire, ye fhulen gete richeffes by youre wit and by
youre travaille, unto youre profite, and that with-
euten wrong or harme doing to any other per-
fone; for the lawe fayth, Ther maketh no man
himſelf riche if he do harme to another wight;
this is to fay, that Nature defendeth and forbedeth
by right that no man make himſelf riche unto
the harme of another perfone. And Tullius fayth,
that no forwe, ne no drede of deth, ne nothing
that may falle unto a man, is fo muchel ageins
nature as a man to encrefe his owen profite to
harme of another man. And though the grete
men and the mighty men geten richeffes more
lightly than thou, yet fhalt thou not ben idel ne
flowe to do thy profite, for thou shalt in alle wife
flee idleneffe; for Salomon fayth, that idleneffe
techeth a man to do many eviles: and the fame
Salomon fayth, that he that travailleth and befi-
eth him to tillen his lond fhal ete bred, but he
that is idel, and cafteth him to no befineffe ne
occupation, ſhal falle into poverte, and die for
hunger. And he that is idel and flow can never
find covenable time for to do his profite; for ther
is a verfifiour fayth, that the idel man excufeth
him in winter becauſe of the grete cold, and in
fommer they by enchefon of the hete. For thiſe
cauſes, fayth Caton, Waketh, and enclineth you
not over muchel to flepe, for over muchel refte
norifheth and caufeth many vices; and therfore
fayth Seint Jerome, Doeth fom good dedes, that
the devil which is oure enemie ne finde you not
unoccupied, for the devil he taketh not lightly
unto his werking ſwiche as he findeth occupied
in goode werkes.
Than thus in geting richeffes ye muften flee
idleneffe; and afterward ye fhuln ufen the richeſſes
which ye han geten by youre wit and by youre
travaille in fwiche manere than men holde you
not to ſcarce ne to fparing, ne fool-large, that is
to fay, over large a fpender; for right as men
blamen an avaricious man becaufe of his ſcarcitee
and chincherie,in the fame wife is he to blame that
fpendeth over largely; and therfore faith Caton,
Ufe (fayth he) the richeffes that thou haft ygeten
in fwiche manere that men have no matere ne
caufe to calle thee nother wretche ne chince, for
it is a gret fhame to a man to have a poure herte
and a riche purfe: he fayth alfo, The goodes that
thou haft ygeten ufe hem by mefure, that is to
fayn, fpende mefurably, for they that folily wa-
ften and difpenden the goodes that they han whan
they han no more propre of hir owen that they
fhapen hem to take the goodes of another man.
I fay than that ye fhula flec avarice, using youre
|
richeſſes in ſwiche manere that men fayn not that
youre richeffes ben yberied, but that ye have hem
in-youre might and in youre welding; for a wife
man repreveth the avaricious man, and fayth
thus in two vers, Wherto and why berieth a man
his goodes by his gret avarice, and knoweth wel
that nedes muft he die, for deth is the end of
every man as in this prefent lif? and for what
cauſe or enchefon joineth he him, or knitteth he
him fo faft unto his goodes, that alle his wittes
mown not diffeveren him or departen him from
his goodes, and knoweth wel, or oughte to know,
that whan he is ded he fhal nothing bere with
him out of this world? and therfore fayth Seint
Auguftien, that the avaricious man is likened unto
helle, that the more it fwalweth the more defir it
hath to fwalwe and devoure. And as wel as ye
wolde efchue to be called an avaricious man or
chinche, as wel fhulde ye kepe you and governe
you in fwiche a wife that men calle you not fool-
large; therfore faith Tullius, The goodes of thin
hous ne fhulde not ben hid ne kept fo clofe but
that they might ben opened by pitee and debo-
nairetee, that is to fayn, to yeve hem part that
han gret nede; ne thy goodes fhulden not ben fo
open to be every mannes goodes. Afterward, in
getting of youre richeffes, and in uſing of hem, ye
fhuln alway have three thinges in youre herte,
that is to fay, oure Lord God, confcience, and good
name. First, ye fhuln have God in youre herte,
and for no richeffe ye fhuln do nothing which
may in any manere difplefe God that is youre crea-
tour and maker; for, after the word of Salomon,
It is better to have a litel good, with love of God,
than to have muchel good and leſe the love of his
Lord God: and the prophete fayth, that better
it is to ben a good man and have litel good and
trefor than to be holden a fhrewe and have grete
richeffes. And yet I fay forthermore, that ye
fhulden alway do youre befineffe to gete you rich-
effes, fo that ye gete hem with good confcience.
And the apoftle fayth, that there n'is thing in this
world of which we fhulden have fo gret joye as
whan oure confcience bereth us good witneffe;
and the wife man fayth, The fubftaunce of a man
is ful good whan finne is not in mannes confcience.
Afterward, in geting of youre richeffes and in
uſing of hem, ye muft have gret befineffe and gret
diligence that youre good name be alway kept and
conferved; for Salomon fayth, that beter it is
and more it availeth a man to have a good name
than for to have grete richeffes; and therfore he
fayth in another place, Do gret diligence (faith
Salomon) in keping of thy frendes and of thy
good name, for it fhal lenger abide, with thee
than any trefor, be it never fo precious; and cer-
tes he fhulde not be called a Gentilman that after
God and good confcience alle thinges left ne doth
his diligence and befineffe to kepen his good name;
and Caffiodore fayth, that it is a figne of a gentil
herte whan a man loveth and defireth to have a
good name; and therefore fayth Seint Auguftine,
that ther ben two thinges that arn right neceffarie
and nedeful, and that is good confcience and good
1
T
140
MELIBEU S.
THE TALE OF
los; that is it to fayn, good confcience to thin
owen perfone inward, and good los for thy neighe-
bour outward. And he that trofteth him fo
muchel in his good confcience that he defpifeth
and fetteth at nought his good name or los, and
rocketh not though he kepe not his good name,
n'is but a cruel cherl.
Sire, now have I fhewed you how ye fhulden
do in geting richeffes, and how ye fhulen ufen
hem; and I fee wel that for the truft that ye han
in youre richeffes, ye wiln meve werre and bataille.
I confeille you that ye beginne no bataille ne
werre in truſt of youre richelles, for they ne fuf-
ficen not werres to mainteine; and therfore fayth
a philofophre, That man that defireth and wol
algates han werre fhal never have fuffifaunce, for
the richer that he is the greter difpei:ces must he
make, if he will have worſhip and victorie; and
Salomon faith, that the greter richeffes that a man
hath the mo difpendours he hath. And, dere
Sire al be it fo that for youre richeffes ye moun
have muchel folk, yet behoveth it not ne it is not
good to beginne werre, wheras you moun in
other manere have pees unto youre worship and
unto youre worthip and
profite for the victorie of batailles that ben in
this world lith not in gret nombre or multitude
of peple, ne in the vertue of man, but it lith in
the will and in the hond of oure Lord God Al-
mighty; and therefore Judas Machabeus, which
was Goddes knight, whan he fhulde fighte again
his adverfarie that hadde a greter nombre and a
greter multitude of folk, and ſtrenger than was
the peple of this Machabee, yet he recomforted
his litel compaignie, and fayde right in this wife;
Al fo lightly (fayde he) may our Lord God Al-
mighty yeve victorie to a fewe folk as to many
folk, for the victorie of a bataille cometh not by
the gret nombre of peple, but it cometh from
oure Lord God of heven. And, dere Sire! for
as muchel as ther is 'no man certaine if it be
worthy that God yeve him victorie or not, after
that Salomon fayth, Therfore every man fhulde
gretly drede werres to beginne; and becauſe that
in batailles fallen many perils, and it happeth
other while that as fone is the gret man flain as
the litel man; and, as it is ywritten in the fecond
book of Kinges, The dedes of batailles ben aven-
turous, and nothing certain, for as lightly is on
hurt with a fpere as another; and for ther is gret
peril in werre, therfore fhulde a man flee and
efchue werre in as muchel as a man may goodly;
for Salomon feyth, He that loveth peril fhal falle
in peril.
After that Dame Prudence had ſpoken in this
manere, Melibee anfwerd and faide: I fee wel,
Dame Prudence, that by youre faire wordes and
by youre refons that ye han fhewed me that the
werre liketh you nothing; but I have not yet
herd your confeil how I fhal do in this nede.
Certes, quod fhe, I confeille you that ye ac-
corde with youre adverfaries, and that ус have
pees with hem; for Seint James fayth in his epiftle
that by concorde and pecs the fmale richeffes
wexen grete, and by debat and difcorde grete
richeffes fallen doun: and ye knowen wel that on
|
of the greteft and mofte foveraine thing that is in
this world is unitee and pees; and therfore fayde
oure Lord Jefu Crift to his apoftles in this wife,
Wel happy and bleffed ben they that loven and
purchafen pees, for they ben called the children
of God. A quod Melibee, now fee I wel that
ye
loven not min honour ne my worshipe. Ye
knowen wel that min adverſaries han begonne
this debat and brige by hir outrage, and ye fee
wel that they ne requeren ne prayen me not of
pees, ne they axen not to be reconciled; wol
ye
than that I go and meke me and obeye me to hem,
and crie hem mercie? forfath that were not my
worshipe; for right as men fayn that overgret
homlineffe engendreth diſpreifing, ſo fareth it by
to gret humilitee or mekeneffe.
Than began Dame Prudence to make fem
blaunt of wrathe, and fayde, Certes, Sire, (fauf your
grace) I love youre honour and youre profite as
I do mine owen, and ever have don, ye ne non
other feyn never the contrary; and if I had fayde
that ye fhuld han purchafed the pees and the re-
conciliation, I ne hadde not muchel miſtake me ne
fayde amis; for the wife man fayth, The diffen-
tion beginneth by another man, and the reconcil-
ing beginneth by thyfelf: and the prophete faith,
Flee fhrewedneffe and do goodneffe: feke pees
and folwe it, in as muchel as in thee is. Yet fay
I not that ye fhuln rather purfue to youre adver-
faries for pecs than they fhuln to you, for I know
wel that ye ben fo hard-herted that ye wol do
nothing for me; and Salomon fayth, He that hath
over hard an herte atte lafte he fhal mifhappe and
miftide.
Whan Melibee had herd Dame Prudence make
femblaunt of wrath he fayde in this wife: Dame,
I pray you
that ye be not difplefed of things that
I fay, for I knowe wel that I am angry and wroth,
and that is no wonder, and they that ben wroth
woten not wel what they don ne what they fayn;
therfore the prophetefayth, that troubled eyen han
no clere fighte. But fayth and confeilleth me as
you liketh, for I am redy to do right as ye wol
defire; and if ye repreve me of
|
my folie
I am the more holden to love you and to
preife you; for Salomon faith, that he that re-
preveth him that doth folie he fhal find greter
grace than he that deceiveth him by fwete
wordes.
Than fayde Dame Prudence, 1 make no fem-
blaunt of wrath ne of anger but for youre grete
profite; for Salomon faith, He is more wroth
that repreveth or chideth a fool for his folie, fhew,
ing him femblaunt of wrath, than he that fupport-
eth him and preiſeth him in his mifdoing, and
laugheth at his folie; and this fame Salomon faith
afterward, that by the forweful vifage of a man,
that is to fayn, by the fory and hevy countenance
of a man, the fool correcteth and amendeth him-
felf.
Than faid Melibee, I fhal not conne anſwere
unto fo many faire refons as ye putten to me and
fhewen: fayth fhortly youre will and youre
confeil, and I am al redy to performe and ful、
fille it.
THE TALE OF MELİBEUS.
141
Than Dame Prudence difcovered all hire will
unto him, and faide, I confeille you, quod fhe,
above alle thinges that ye make pees betwene God
and you, and be reconciled unto him and to his
grace, for as I have fayde you herebeforen, God
hath fuffered yon to have this tribulation and
difefe for youre finnes: and if ye do as I fay you,
God wol fende youre adverfaries unto you, and
make hem falle at youre feet, redy to do youre
will and youre commandements; for Salomon
fayth, Whan the condition of man is plefaunt and
liking unto God, he chaungeth the hertes of the
mannes adverfaries, and conftreineth him to be-
fechen him of pees and of grace. And I pray
you let me fpeke with your adverfaries in prevee
place, for they fhuln not knowe that it be of
youre will or youre affent, and than whan I knowe
hir will and hir entente I may confeille you the
more feurely.
Dame, quod Melibeus, doth youre will and
youre liking, for I putte me wholly in youre dif-
pofition and ordinance.
Than Dame Prudence, whan fhe fey the good
will of hire hufbond, delibered unto hire, and
toke avis in hire felf, thinking how the might bring
this nede unto goode ende; and whan fhe fey hire
time the fent for thiſe adverfaries to come unto
hire in to a privee place, and fhewed wifely unto
hem the grete goodes that comen of pees, and the
grete harmes and perils that ben in werre; and
faide to hem in a goodly manere how that hem
oughte have gret repentance of the injuries and
wronges that they hadden don to Melibeus hire
lord, and unto hire and to hire doughter.
And whan they herden the goodly wordes of
Dame Prudence they weren fo furpifed and ra-
viſhed, and hadden fo gret joye of hire, that
wonder was to telle. A Lady! quod they, ye
have fhewed unto us the bleffing of fweteneffe,
after the faying of David the prophet; for
the reconciling which we be not worthy to have
in no manere, but we oughten requeren it with
grete contrition and humilitee, ye of your grete
goodneffe have prefented unto us. Now fee we
wel that the ſcience and conning of Salomon is ful
trewe; for he faith, that fwete wordes multiplien
and encrefen frendes, and maken firewes to be
debonaire and meke.
a peine as we moun not bere ne fufteine; and ther-
fore, noble Ladie! we befeche youre womanlyto
pittee to take ſwiche a viſement in this nede that
we ne oure frendes ben not difherited and de-
ftroied thurgh oure folie.
I
Certes, quod Prudence, it is an hard thing and
right perilous that a man putte him all outrely in
the arbitration and jugement and in the might
and power of his enemie; for Salomon fayth,
Leveth me and yeveth credence to that that
fhall fay; To thy fone, to thy wif, to thy frend,
ne to thy brother, ne yeve thou never might ne
maiſtrie over thy body while thou liveft. Now
fith he defendeth that a man fhulde not yeve to
his brother ne to his frend the might of his body,
by a ftrenger refon he defendeth and forbedeth
a man to yeve himſelf to his enenty. And nathe-
les I confeille you that ye miftrufte not my lord,
for I wot wel and know veraily that he is de-
bonaire and meke, large, curteis and nothing de-
firous ne coveitous of good ne richeffe, for ther
is nothing in this world that he defireth fave only
worshipe and honour. Forthermore, I know wel
and am right fure that he fhal nothing do in this
nedie withouten my confeil, and I fhal fo werken
in this cas that by the grace of our Lord God ye
fhuln be reconciled unto us.
|
Than faiden they with o vois, Worſhipful Lady!
we putten us and our goodes al fully in youre
will and difpofition, and ben redy to come what
day that it like unto youre nobleffe to limite us or
affigne us for to make oure obligation and bond
as ftrong as it liketh unto youre goodneffe, that
we moun fulfille the will of you and of my Lord
Melibee.
Whan Dame Prudence had herd the anſwer of
thife men, fhe bad hem go agein prively, and ſhe
retourned to hire Lord Melibee, and told him
how the found his adverfaries ful repentant
knowleching ful lowly hir finnes and trefpas, and
how they weren redy to fuffren all peine, re-
quering and preying him of mercy and pitee.
Than faide Melibee, He is wel worthy to have
pardon and foryeveneſſe of his finne that excuſeth
not his finne, but knowlecheth and repenteth
him, axing indulgence; for Senek faith, Ther is
the remiflion and furyeveneffe wher as the con-
feffion is, for confeflion is neighbour to innocence:
and therefore I affente and conferme me to have
pecs: but it is good that we do nought withouten
the affent and will of oure frendes.
Than was Prudence right glad and joyeful, and
faide, Certes, Sire, ye han wel and goodly an-
fwered; for right as by the confeil, affent, and
helpe, of your frendes ye han be tired to venge
you and make werre, right fo withouten hir con-
feil fhul ye not accord you ne have pees with
youre adverſaries; for the lawe faith, Ther is no-
thing fo good by way of kinde as a thing to be
unbounde by him that it was ybounde.
Certes, quod they, we putten oure dede and all
our matere and caufe al holly in youre good will,
and ben redy to obeye unto the ſpeche and com-
maundement of my Lord Melibcus; and ther-
fore, dere and benigne Lady! we praye you and
befeche you, as mekely as we conne and moun,
that it like unto your grete goodneffe to fulfille
in dede youre goodly wordes; for we confideren
and knowelechen that we han offended and grev-
ed my Lord Melibeus out of meſure, fo fer forth
that we ben not of power to maken him
amendes, and therfore we oblige and binde us and
oure frendes for to do all his will and his com- And than Dame Prudence, withouten delay or
maundements; but peraventure he hath fwichetarying, fent anon hire meffageres for hir kin and
hevineffe and ſwiche wrath to us ward, becaufe for hir olde frendes which that were trewe and
of our offence, that he wol enjoynen us fwiche | wife, and told hem by ordre in the prefence of Meli
142
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS.
bee all the matere as it is above expreffed and de- don oure outragious giltes and trefpas into wick-
clared, and preied hem that they wold yeve hiredneffe, al be it that curfedly and dampnably we
avis and confeil what were beft to do in this nede. han agilte again youre highe lordſhipe.
And whan Melibeus frendes hadden taken hir
avis and deliberation of the forefaid matere, and
hadden examined it by gret befineffe and gret
diligence, they yaven ful confeil for to have pees
and refte, and that Melibee fhulde receive with
good herte his adverfaries to foryeveneffe and |
mercy.
And whan Dame Prudence had herd the affent
of hire Lord Melibee, and the confeil of his
frendes accord with hire will and hire entention,
he was wonder glad in hire herte, and fayde,
Ther is an old proverbe, quod fhe, fayth, that the
goodneſſe that thou maiſt do this day do it, and
abide not ne delay it not till to morwe: and there-
fore I confeille that ye fende youre meffageres,
fwiche as ben difcret and wife, unto youre adver-
faries, telling hem on youre behalf, that if they
wol trete of pees and of accord, that they fhape
hem withouten delay or tarying to come unto us.
Which thing parfourmed was indede. And whan |
thife trefpafours and repenting folk of hir folies,
that is to fayn, the adverfaries of Melibee, had-
den herd what thife meffageres fayden unto hem
they weren right glade and joyeful, and anſwerden
ful mekely and benignely, yelding graces and
thankinges to hir Lord Melibee and to all his
compagnie, and fhopen hem withouten delay to
go with the meffageres, and obeye to the com-
mandement of hir Lord Melibee.
Then Melibee toke hem up fro the ground ful
benignely, and received hir obligations and hir
bondes by hir othes upon hir plegges and borwes,
and aſſigned hem a certain day to retourne unto
his court for to receive and accept ſentence and
jugement that Melibee wolde commande to be
don on hem by the caufes aforefaid; which
thinges ordeined every man retourned to his
hous.
And whan that Dame Prudence faw hire time
fhe freined, and axed hire Lord Melibee what
vengance he thoughte to taken of his adver-
faries?
To which Melibee anfwerd and faide; Certes,
quod he, I think and purpoſe me fully to difherite
hem of all that ever they han, and for to putte
hem in exile for ever.
Certes, quod Dame Prudence, this were a cruel
ſentence, and muchel agein refon, for ye ben riche
ynough, and han no nede of other mennes good ;
and ye might lightly in this wife gete you a
coveitous name, which is a vicious thing, and
oughte to be efchewed of every good man, for
after the fawe of the apoftle, coveitife is rote of
alle harmes; and therefore it were better for you
to lefe muchel good of your owen, than for to take
of hir good in this manere: for better it is to lefe
good with worſhip than to winne good with
vilanie and ſhame: and every man ought to do his
And right anon they token hir way to the court diligence and his befineffe to get him a good name;
of Melibee, and token with hem fom of hir trewe and yet ſhal he not only befie him in keeping his
frendes to make feith for hem and for to ben good name, but he fhal alfo enforcen him alway
hir borwes. And whan they were comen to the to do fom thing by which he may renovelle his
preſence of Melibee he faide hem thiſe wordes. good name; for it is written that the olde good
It ftant thus quod Melibee, and foth it is that ye los or good name of a man is fone gon and paffed
caufcles and withouten ſkill and refon han don whan it is not newed. And as touching that
grete injuries and wronges to me and to my wif favn, that ye wol exile your adverfaries, that
Prudence, and to my doughter alfo, for ye han thinketh me muchel agein refon and out of me-
entered into myn hous by violence, and have don fure, confidered the power that they han yeven.
fwiche outrage that alle men knowen wel that ye you upon hemfelf; and it is written, that he is
han deſerved the deth ; and therefore wol I know worthy to lefe his privilege that miſuſeth the
and wete of you whether ye wol put the puniſh-might and the power that is yeven him. And
ing and chaſtifing, and the vengence, of this
outrage in the will of me and of my wif, or ye
wol not.
Than the wifeft of hem three anfwered for hem
alle, and faide; Sire, quod he, we knowen wel
that we ben unworthy to come to the court of
fo gret a lord and fo worthy as ye ben, for we
han fo gretly miſtaken us, and han offended and
agilte in fwiche wife agein your high lordſhipe,
that trewely we han deferved the deth; but yet
for the grete goodneffe and dobonairetee that all
the world witneffeth of youre perfone we fub-
mitten us to the excellence and benignitee of youre
gracious lordſhipe, and ben redy to obeye to alle
youre comandements, befeching you that of youre
merciable pitee ye wol confidere oure grete re-,
pentance and lowe fubmiffion, and graunte us for-
yeveneffe of our outragious trefpas and offence;
for wel we knowen that youre liberal grace and
mercie ſtretchen hem forther into goodneffe than ¡
:
i
ye
I fette cas ye might enjoine hem that peine by
right and by lawe, (which I trowe ye mowe not
do) I fay ye might not putte it to execution per-
aventure, and than it were like to retourne to the
werre as it was beforn: and therefore if
you wol
that men do you obeifance ye muft deme more
curteifly, that is to ſayn, ye muft yeve more efie
fentences and jugements; for it is written, he
that most curteilly commandeth to him men moſt
obeyen. And therefore I pray you that in this
neceffitee and in this nede ye cafte you to over-
come your herte; for Senek fayth, that he that
overcometh his herte overcometh twies; and
Tullius faith, Ther is nothing fo commendable in
a gret lord as whan he is debonaire and meke, and
appefeth him lightly. And I pray you that ye wol
now forbere to do vengeaunce in fwiche a manere
that your good name may be kept and conferved,
and that men mown have cauſe and matere to
preife you of pitee and of mercy, and that ye
2
THE TALE OF MELIBEUS,
143
have no caule to repente you of thing that ye don; in this wife: Al be it fo that of youre pride and
for Seneke faieth, He overcometh in an evil | high prefumption and folie, and of youre ne-
manere that repenteth of his victorie. Wherfore gligence and unconning, ye have miſborne you
1 pray you let mercy be in your herte, to the
and treſpaſed unto me, yet for as muchel as I fee
effect and entent that God Almighty have mercy and behold your grete humilitee, and that ye ben
upon you in his laft jugement; for Seint James fory and repentant of youre giltes, it conftreineth
faith in his epiftle, Jugement withoute mercy me to do you grace and mercy; wherfor I receive
fhal be do to him that hath no mercy of an- you into my grace, and foryeve you outrely alle
other wight.
the offences, injuries, and wronges, that yet have
don agein me and mine, to this effect and to this
ende, that God of his endeles mercie wol at the
time of oure dying foryeve us oure giltes that we
han trefpafed to him in this wretched world; for
douteles if we be fory and repentant of the
finnes and giltes which we han trefpafed in the fight
of oure Lord God, he is ſo free and fo merciable
that he wolforyeven us oure giltes, and bringen us
to the bliffe that never hath ende. Amen.
Whan Melibee had herd the grete ſkilles and
refons of Dame Prudence, and hire wife informa-
ticns and techinges, his herte gan encline to the
will of his wif, confidering hire trewe entente,
enforced him anon, and affented fully to werken
after hire confeil, and thanked God, of whom
procedeth all goodneffe and all vertue, that him
fent a wif of fo gret difcretion. And whan the
day came that his adverfaries fhulde appere in his
prefence, he spake to hem ful goodly, and faide
2
144
THE MONKES PROLOGUE.
THE MONKES PROLOGUE.
WHAN ended was the Tale of Melibee
And of Prudence and hire benignitee
Our Hofte faide, As I am faithful man,
And by the precious corpus Madrian,
I hadde lever than a barell of ale-
That goode lefe my wif had herde this Tale,
For fhe n'is no thing of fwiche patience
As was this Melibeus wif Prudence.
By Goddes bones whan I bete my knaves
She brineth me the grete clobbed ftaves,
And cryeth, Slee the dogges everich on,
And breke hem bothe bak and every bon.
And if that any neighebour of mine
Wol not in chirche to my wif encline,
Or be fo hardy to hire to trefpace,
Whan fhe cometh home fhe rampeth in my face,
And cryeth, Falfe coward! wreke thy wif:
By corpus Domini I wol have thy knif,
And thou shalt have my diſtaf and go ſpinne.
Fro day til night right thus fhe wol beginne.
Alas! fhe faith, that ever I was yſhape
To wed a milkfop or a coward ape,
That wol ben overladde with every wight :
Thou darft not ſtonden by the wives right.
This is my lif but if that I wol fight,
And out at dore anon I mote me dight,
Or elles I am loft, but if that I
Be like a wilde leon fool-hardy.
I wote wel fhe wol do me flee fom day
Som neighbour, and thanne go my way,
For I am in perilous with knif in honde
Al be it that I dare not hire withftonde,
For fhe is bigge in armes by my faith,
That fhal he finde that hire mifdoth or faith.
But let us paffe away fro this matere.
My Lord the Monk, quod he, be mery of chere
For ye fhul telle a Tale trewely.
Lo! Rouchefter ftondeth here fafte by;
Ride forth, min owen Lord, breke not our game.
But by my trouthe I can no telle youre name;
Whether fhal I call you my Lord Dan John.
Or Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon?
Of what hous be ye by your fader kin?
I vow to God thou haft a ful faire ſkin.
It is a gentil pafture ther thou goſt;
Thou art not like a penaunt or a goft.
Upon my faith thou art fom officer,
Som worthy fextein, or fom celerer,
I
For by my fadres foule, as to my dome,
Thou art a maifter whan thou art home 3
No poure cloiſterer, ne non novice,
But a governour bothe ware and wife,
And therwithal of braunes and of bones
A right wel faring perfone for the noncs.
pray to God yeve him confufion
That first thee brought into religion.
Thou woldeft han ben a trede-foul a right
Haddeft thou as grete leve as thou haft might
To parfourme all thy luft in engendrure
Thou haddeft begeten many a creature.
Alas! why wereft thou fo wide a cope ?
God yeve me forwe but and I were pope
Not only thou but every mighty man,
Though he were fhore ful high upon his pan,
Shuld have a wif, for al this world is lorn,
Religion hath take up all the corn
Of treding, and we borel men ben fhrimpes;
Of feble trees ther comen wretched impes.
This maketh that our heires ben fo fclendre
And feble that they monn not wel engendre;
This maketh that our wives wol affaye
Religious folk, for they moun better paye
Of Venus payements than mowen we;
God wote no Lufheburgees payen ye.
But be not wroth, my Lord, though that I play
Ful oft in game a fothe have I herd fay.
This worthy Monke toke all in patience,
And faide, I wol don'all my diligence,
As fer as founeth into honeftee,
To tellen you a Tale, or two or three;
And if you lift to herken hiderward
I wol you fayn the lif of Seint Edward,
Or elles tragedies firft I wol tellc,
Of which I have an hundred in my celle.
Tragedie is to fayn a certain ftorie,
As olde bookes maken us memorie,
Of him that ſtood in gret profperitee,
And is yfallen out of high degree
In to miferie, and endeth wretchedly;
And they ben verfified communly
Of fix feet, which men clepen Exametron :
In profe eke ben endited many on,
And cke in metre in many a fondry wife,
Lo this declaring ought ynough fuffice.
Now herkeneth if you liketh for to here,
But first I you befeche in this matere,
THE MONKES PROLÓGÚÉ.
145
J
Though I by ordre telle not thife thinges,
Be it of popes, emperoures, or kinges,
After hir ages, as men written finde,
But telle hem fom before and fom behinde,
As it now cometh to my remembrance,
Have me excuſed of min ignorance.
THE MONKES TALE*.
I won. bewaile in manere of tragedie
The harm of hem that ſtode in high degree,
And fellen fo that ther n'as no remedie
To bring hem out of hir adverfitee;
For certain whan that Fortune lift to flee
Ther may no man of hire the cours withholde :
Let no man truft on blinde profperitee;
Beth ware by thiſe enſamples trewe and olde.
Lucifer.
At Lucifer, though he an angel were
And not a man, at him I wol beginne;
For though Fortune may non angel dere,
From high degree yet felle he for his finne
Doun into helle, wheras he yet is inne.
O Lucifer! brighteſt of angels alle,
Now art thou Sathanas, that maiſt not twinne
Out of miferie in which that thou art falle.
Adam.
Lo! Adam in the feld of Damafcene
With Goddes owen finger wrought was he,
And not begeten of mannes fperme unclene,
And welre all Paradis faving o tree.
Had never worldly man fo high degree
As Adam, til he for mifgovernance
Was driven out of his profperitee
To labour, and to helle, and to mefchance.
Sampfon.
Lo! Sampfon, which that was annunciat
By the angel long or his nativitee,
And was to God Almighty confecrat,
And ftode in nobleffe while he mighte fee:
Was never fwiche another as was he,
To fpeke of ftrength and therto hardineffe;
But to his wives tolde he his fecree,
Thurgh which he flow himſelf for wretchedneffe.
A tragical difcourſe of many who have fallen from
high eltate into extreme mifery. Urry,
VOL. I.
Sampfon, this noble and mighty champion,
Withouten wepen fave his handes twey
He flow and all to-rente the leon,
Toward his wedding walking by the wey.
His falfe wif coude him fo plefe and pray
Til fhe his confeil knewe, and the untrewe
Unto his foos his confeil gan bewray,
And him forfoke, and toke another newe.
Three hundred foxes toke Sampfon for ire,
And all hir tayles he togeder bond,
And fet the foxes tayles all on fire,
For he in every tayl had knit a brond,
And they brent all the cornes in that lond,
And all hir oliveres and vines eke.
A thouſand men he flow eke with his hond,
And had no wepen but an affes cheke..
Whan they were flain fo thurfted him that he
Was wel nie lorne, for which he gan to preye
That God wold on his peine han fom pitee,
And fend him drinke, or elles moſte he deye;
And of this affes cheke that was fo dreye
Out of a wang toth fprang anon a welle,
Of which he drank ynough, fhortly to feyc.
Thus halp him God, as Judicum can telle,
By veray force at Gafa on a night,
Maugre the Philiftins of that citee,
The gates of the toun he hath up plight,
And on his bak ycarried hem hath he
High on an hill, wher as men might hem fe.
O noble mighty Sampfon, lefe and dere!
Haddeft thou not told to women thy fecree,
In all this world ne had ther ben thy pere.
This Sampfon never fider dranke ne wine,
Ne on his hed came rafour non ne fhere.
By precept of the meffager divine,
For all his ftrengthes in his heres were:
And fully twenty winter yère by yere
He hadde of Ifrael the governance;
But fone fhal he wepen many a tere,
For women fhuln him bringen to mefchance.
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MONKES TALE.
THE
!
Unto his lemman Dalida he told
That in his heres all his ftrengthe lay,
And falfely to his fomen fhe him fold;
And fleping in hire barme upon a day
She made to clip or fhere his here away,
And made his fomen al his craft efpien;
And whan that they him fond in this array
They bond him faſt, and putten out his eyen.
But or his here was clipped or yſhave,
Ther was no bond with which men might him
But now is he in prifon in a cave,
[bind,
Wheras they made him at the querne grinde.
O noble Sampfon, ſtrongeſt of mankind,
O whilom juge in glory and richeffe !
Now mayeft thou wepen with thin eyen blind
Sith thou fro wele art falle in wretchedneffe.
The ende of this caitif was as I fhal feye:
His fomen made a feſte upon a day,
And made him as hir fool before hem pleye,
And this was in a temple of gret array:
But at the laſt he made a foule affray,
For he two pillers ſhoke and made hem falle,
And doun fell temple and all, and ther it lay,
And flow himſelf, and eke his fomen alle.
This is to fayn, the princes everich on,
And eke three thouſand bodies, were ther flain
With falling of the gret temple of fton
Of Sampfon now wol I no more fain :
Beth ware by this enfample old and plain
That no men tell hir confeil to hir wives
Of fwiche thing as they wold han fecree fain,
If that it touch hir limmes or hir lives.
Hercules.
Of Hercules the foveraine conquerour
Singen his werkes laude, and high renoun,
For in his time of ftrength he was the flour.
He flow and raft the ſkinne of the leon
He of Centaures laid the boft adoun;
He Harpies flow, the cruel briddes felle ;
He golden apples raft fro the dragon;
He drow out Cerberos, the hound of helle.
He flow the cruel tirant Bufirus,
And made his hors to fret him flesh and bon;
He flow the firy ferpent venemous;
Of Achelous two hornes brake he on;
And he flow Cacus in a cave of fton;
He flow the geaunt Anteus the ftrong;
He flow the grifely bore, and that anon;
And bare the hevene on his nekke long
Was never wight fith that the world began
That flow ſo many monftres as did he;
Thurghout the wide world his name ran,
What for his ftrength and for his high bountce;
And every reuame went he for to fee.
He was fo ftrong that no man might him let;
At bothe the worldes endes, faith Trophee,
In ftede of boundes he a piller fet.
A lemman had this noble champion
That highte Deianire, as freſh as May:
And, as thife clerkes maken mention,
She hath him fent a fherte freſh and gay ;
Alas! this fherte, alas and wala wa!
Envenimed was fotilly withalle,
That or that he had wered it half a day
It made his flesh all from his bones falle.
But natheles fom clerkes hire excufen
By on that highte Neffus, that it maked :
Be as may be, I wol hire not accufen ;
But on his bak this fherte he wered al naked,
Til that his flesh was for the venim blaked;
And whan he faw non other remedie
In hote coles he hath himfelven raked,
For with no venime deigned him to die.
Thus ftarf this worthy mighty Hercules.
Lo! who may truft on Fortune any throw
For him that folweth all this world of pres
Or he be ware is oft ylaid ful lowe :
Ful wife is he that can himfelven knowe.
Beth ware, for whan that Fortune lift to glofe
Than waiteth fhe hire man to overthrowe
By fwiche a way as he wold left fuppofe.
Nabuchodonofor.
The mighty trone, the precious trefor,
The glorious fceptre, and real majeſtee,
That hadde the King Nabuchodonofor,
With tonge unnethes may defcrived be:
He twies wan Jerufalem the citee,
The veffell of the temple he with him ladde
At Babiloine was his foveraine fee,
In which his glorie and his delit he hadde.
The fayreft children of the blood real
Of Ifrael he did do gelde anon,
And maked eche of hem to ben his thral.
Amonges other Daniel was on,
That was the wifeft child of everich on,
For he the dremes of the king expouned,
Wher as in Caldée clerk ne was ther non
That wiſte to what fin his dremes founed.
This proude king let make a ſtatue of gold
Sixty cubites long and ſeven in brede,
To which image both yonge and old
Commanded he to loute and have in drede,
Or in a fourneis ful of flames rede
He fhuld be brent that wolde not obeye;
But never wold affenten to that dede,
Daniel, ne his yonge felawes tweye.
This king of kinges proud was and elat ;
He wend that God that fit in majeſtee
Ne might him nat bereve of his eftat:
But fodenly he loſt his dignitee,
And like a beft him femed for to be,
And ete heye as an oxe, and lay therout
In rain with wilde beftes walked he
Til certain time was come about.
And like an egles fethers wex his heres,
His neyles like a briddes clawes were,
Til God relefed him at certain yercs,
And yaf him wit, and than with many a tere
He thanked God, and ever his lif in fere
Was he to don amis, or more treſpace :
And til that time he laid was on his bere
He knew that God was ful of might and grace
THE MONKES TALE.
147
Balthafar.
His fone, which that highte Balthafar,
That held the regne after his fadres day,
He by his fader coulde not beware,
For proude he was of herte and of array,
And eke an ydolafter was he ay.
His high eftat affured him in pride;
But Fortune caft him doun (and ther he lay)
And fodenly his regne gan devide.
A fefte he made unto his lordes alle
Upon a time, and made hem blithe be,
And than his officers gan he calle;
Goth bringeth forthe the veffels, quod he,
Which that my fader in his profperitee
Out of the temple of Jerufalem beraft,
And to our highe gooddes thanke we
Of honour; that our eldres with us laft.
His wif, his lordes, and his concubines,
Ay dronken, while hir appetites laft,
Out of thiſe noble veffels fondry wines.
And on a wall this king his eyen caft,
And ſaw an hand armles that wrote ful faſt,
For fere of which he quoke and fiked fore :
This hand that Balthafar fo fore agaft,
Wrote Mane techel Phares and no more.
In al that lond magicien was non
That coud expounen what this lettre ment,
But Daniel expouned it anon,
And faid, O King! God to thy fader lent
Glorie and honour, regne, trefour and rent,
And he was proud and nothing God ne dradde,
And therfore God gret wreche upon him fent,
And him beraft the regne that he hadde.
He was out caft of mannes compagnie.
With affes was his habitation,
And cte hey as a beft in wete and drie,
Til that he knew by grace and by reſon
'That God of heven hath domination.
Over every regne and every creature,
And than had God of him compaffion,
And him reſtored his regne and his figure.
Eke thou that art his fone art proud alfo
And knoweft all thiſe thinges veraily,
And art rebel to God and art his fo :
Thou dranke eke of his veffels boldely,
Thy wif eke and thy wenches finfully
Dranke of the fame veffels fondry wines,
And heried falfe goddes curfedly,
Therfore to thee yfhapen ful gret pine is.
This hand was fent fro God that on the wall
Wrote Mane techel Phares, trufteth me.
Thy regne is don; thou wayeft nought at all:
Divided is thy regne, and it fhal be
To Medes and to Perfes yeven, quod he.
And thilke fame night this king was flawe,
An Darius occupied his degree,
Though he therto had neither right ne lawe.
Lordinges, enfample hereby moun ye take
How that in lordship is no fikerneffe,
For whan that Fortune wol a man forfake
She bereth away his regne and his richeffe,
And eke his frendes, bothe more and leſſe;
For what man that hath frendes thurgh Fortune
Mishap wol make hem enemies I geffe.
This proverbe is ful foth, and fule commune.
Zenobia.
Zenobia, of Palmerie the quene,
(As writen Perfiens of hire nobleffe)
So worthy was in armes, and fo kene,
That no wight paſſed hire in hardineffe,
Ne in linege, ne in other gentilleſſe.
Of kinges blood of Perfe is the deſcended;
I fay not that ſhe hadde moſt faireneffe,
But of hire fhape fhe might not ben amended
From hire childhode I finde that he fleddo
Office of woman, and to wode fhe went,
And many a wilde hartes blood fhe fhedde
With arwes brode that ſhe to hem fent;
She was fo fwift that the anon hem hent:
And whan that ſhe was elder ſhe wolde kille
Leons, lepard, and beres al to-rent,
And in hire armes weld hem at hire wille.
She dorft the wilde beftes dennes feke,
And rennen in the mountaignes all the night,
And flepe under the buſh; and the coude eke
Wraftlen by veray force and veray might
With any yong man, were he never fo wight;
Ther mighte nothing in hire armes ftonde:
She kept hire maidenhode from every wight;
To no man deigned hire for to be bonde.
But at the laſt hire frendes han hire maried
To Odenat, a prince of that contree,
Al were it fo that the hem longe taried,
And ye fhul underftonden how that he
Hadde fwiche fantafies as hadde fhe;
But natheles whan they were knit in fere
They lived in joye and in felicitee,
For eche of hem had other lefe and dere;
Save o thing, that ſhe n'olde never affente
By no way that he fhulde by hire lie
But ones, for it was hire plaine entente
To have a childe the world to multiplie;
And al fo fone as that ſhe might eſpie
That ſhe was not with childe with that dede
Than wold fhe fuffer him don his fantaſie
Eftfone, and not but ones out of drede.
And if he were with child at thilke caſt
No more fhuld he playen thilke game
Till fullen fourty days weren paſt,
Than wold fhe ones fuffre him do the fame.
Al were this Odenate wild or tamé
He gate no more of hire, for thus fhe fayde,
It was to wives lecherie and ſhame
In other cas if that men with hem playde.
Two fones by this Odenate had fhe,
The which fhe kept in vertue and lettrure.
But now unto our Tale turne we.
I fay fo worshipful a creature,
And wife therwith, and large with meſure,
So penible in the werre, and curteis eke,
Ne more labour might in werre endure,
Was non, though all this world men fhulden ſekę,
Hire riche array ne mighte not be told,
As wel in veffell as in hire clothing;
She was all clad in pierric and in gold;
And eke she lefte not for non hunting
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MONKES TAL E;
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To have of fondry tonges ful knowing,
Whan that ſhe leifer had, and for to entend
To lernen bookes was all hire liking,
How fhe in vertue might hire lif defpend.
And ſhortly of this ſtorie for to trete,
So doughty was hire hufbond, and eke fhe,
That they conquered many regnes grete
In the orient, with many a faire citee
Appertenaunt unto the majeftce
Of Rome, and with ftrong hand held hem ful faſt,
Ne never might hir fomen don hem flee
Ay while that Odenates dayes luft.
Hire batailles, who ſo lift hem for to rede,
Againe Sapor the king, and other mo,
And how that all this proceffe fell in dede,
Why ſhe conquered, and what title therto,
And after of hire mifchefe and hire wo,
How that she was befeged and ytake,
Let him unto my maifter Petrark go,
That writeth ynough of this I undertake.
Whan Odenate was ded fhe mightily
The regnes held, and with hire propre hond
Agains his foos fhe fought ſo cruelly
That ther n'as king ne prince in all that lond
'That he n'as glad if he that grace fond
That fhe ne wolde upon his lond werreye;
With hire they maden alliaunce by bond
To ben in pecs and let hire ride and pleye,
The Emperour of Rome Claudius,
Ne hint beforn the Romain Galicn,
Ne dorfte never be fo coragcous,
Ne non Ermin ne non Egipticn,
Ne Surrien ne non Arabien,
Within the feld ne dorſte with hire fight,
Left that the wold hem with hire hondes flen,
Or with hire meinie putten hem to flight.
In kinges habite wente hire fones two
As heires of hir fadres regnes alle,
And Heremanno and Timolao
Hir names were, as Perfiens hem calle.
But ay Fortune hath in hire hony galle:
This mighty quene may no while endure;
Fortune out of hire regne made. hire falle
To wretchedneffe and to mifaventure.
Aurelian, whan that the governance
Of Rome came into his hondes twey,
He fhope upon this quene to do vengeance,
And with his legions he toke his way
Toward Zenobic; and, fhortly for to fay,
He made hire flee, and atte laſt hire hent,
And fettred hire and eke hire children tway,
And wan the lond, and home to Rome he went.
Amonges other thinges that he wan
And wan by force tounes ftronge and tourer,
Shal on hire hed now were a vitremite,
And fhe that bare the fceptre ful of floures
Shal bere a diftaf, hire coft for to quite.
Nero.
Although that Nero were as vicious.
As any fend that lieth ful low adoun,
Yet he, as telleth us Suetonius,
This wide world had in fubjectioun,
Both eft and weft, fouth and feptentrioun.
Of rubies, faphires, and of perles white,
Were al his clothes brouded up and doun,
For he in gemmes gretly gan delite.
More delicat, more pompous of array,
More proude, was never emperour than he,
That ilke cloth that he had wered o day
After that time he n'olde it never fee:
Nettes of gold threde had he gret plentee
To fish in Tiber whan him lift to play:
His luftes were as law in his degree,
For Fortune as his frend wold him obay.
He Rome brente for his delicacie;
The Senatours he flow upon a day
To heren how that men wold wepe and crie,
And flow his brother, and by his fufter lay.
His moder made he in pitous array,
For he hire wombe let flitten, to behold
Wher he conceived was, fo wala wa !
That he fo litel of his moder told.
No tere out of his eyen for that fight
Ne came, but fayd a faire woman was fhe.
Gret wonder is how that he coud or might
Be domefman of hire dede beautee.
The wine to bringen him commanded he,
And dranke anon: no other wo he made.
Whan might is joined unto crueltee,
Alas! to depe wol the venime wade.
In youthe a maifter had this emperour
To techen him lettrure and curtefie:
For of moralitee he was the flour,
As in his time, but if bookes lie;
And while this maifter had of him maiſtric
He maked him fo conning and fo fouple
That longe time it was or tyrannie
Or any vice dorft in him uncouple.
This Sencka, of which that I devife,
Becauſe Nero had of him fwiche drede,
For he fro vices wold him ay chaftife
Difcretly, as by word and not by dede;
Sire, he wold fay, an emperour mote nede
Hire char, that was with gold wrought and pierrie, Be vertuous, and haten tyrannie;
This grete Romain, this Aurelian,
Hath with him lad for that men fhuld it fec.
Beforen his triumphe walketh fhe,
With gilte chaines on hire necke honging,
Crouned ſhe was, as after hire degrce,
And ful of pierrie charged hire clothing.
Alas, Fortune! fhe that whilom was
Dredeful to kinges and to emperoures,
Now gaureth all the peple on hire, alas!
And the that helmed was in ftarke ftoures,
For which he made him in a bathe to blede
On bothe his armes till he muſt die.
This Nero had eke of a cuftumaunce
In youth agcins his maifter for to rife,
Which afterward him thought a gret grevaunce,
Therfore he made him dien in this wife.
But natheles this Seneka the wife
Chees in a bathe to die in this mancre
Rather than han another turmentife:
And thus hath Nero flain his maifter dere,
THE MONKES TALE.
把
​>
[er.
Now fell it fo that Fortune lift no lenger
The highe pride of Nero to cherice,
For though that he were ftrong yet was fhe ftreng-
She thoughte thus: by God I am to nice
To fet a man that is fulfilled of vice
In high degree, and Emperour him calle:
By God out of his fete I wol him trice
;
Whan he left weneth foneft fhal he falle.
The peple rofe upon him on a night
For his defaute, and whan he it efpied
Out of his dores anon he hath him dight
Alon, and ther he wend han had ben allied
He knocked faft, and ay the more he cried
'The fafter fhetten they hir dores alle;
Tho wift he wel he had himself mifgied,
And went his way; no lenger dorſt he calle,
The peple cried and rombled up and doun,
That with his ares herd he how they fayde,
Wher is this falfe tyrant, this Neroun ?
For fere almoſt out of his wit he brayde,
And to his goddes pitoufly he preide
For focour, but it mighte not betide:
For drede of this him thoughte that he deide,
And ran into a gardin him to hide.
And in this gardin fond he cherles tweye
That faten by a fire gret and red,
And to thife cherles two he gan to preye
To flen him, and to girden of his hed,
That to his body whan that he were ded
Were no defpit ydon for his defame.
Himfelf he flow, he coud no better rede,
Of which Fortune lough and hadde a game.
Holofernes.
Was never capitaine under a king
That regnes mo put in fubje&tioun,
Nestrenger was in feld of alle thing
As in his time, ne greter of renoun,
Ne more pompous in high prefumptioun,
Than Holoferne, which that Fortune ay kiſt
So likeroufly, and lad him up and doun,
'Til that his hed was of or that he wift.
Not only that this world had him in awe
For lefing of richeffe and libertce,
But he made every man reneie his lawę.
Nabuchodonofor was God, fayd he;
Non other god ne fhulde honoured be.
Ageins his hefte ther dare no wight trefpace
Save in Bethulia, a ſtrong citec,
Wher Eliachim a preeft was of that place.
But take kepe of the deth of Holoferne :
Amid his hoft he dronken lay a night
Within his tente, large as is a berne;
And yet for all his pompe and all his might
Judith, a woman, as he lay upright
Sleping, his hed of finote, and fro his tente
Ful prively fhe ftale from every wight,
And with his hed unto hire toun fhe wente.
Antiochus.
What nedeth it of King Antiochus
'To tell his high and real majeflee,
His gret pride, and his werkes venimous ?
For fwiche another was ther non as he :
Redeth what that he was in Machabe,
And redeth the proud wordes that he feid,
And why he fell from his profperitee,
And in an hill how wretchedly he deid.
Fortune him had enhaunſed ſo in pride
That veraily he wend he might attaine
Unto the fterres upon every fide,
And in a balaunce weyen eche mountaine,
And all the floodes of the fee reftreine :
And Goddes peple had he moſt in hate,
Hem wold he fleen in turment and in peine,
Wening that God ne might his pride abate.
And for that Nichanor and Timothee
With Jewes were venquifhed mightily,
Unto the Jewes fwiche an hate had he
That he bad greithe his char ful haſtily,
And fwore and fayde ful defpitously
Unto Jerufalem he wold eftfone,
To wreke his ire on it ful cruelly;
But of his purpos was he let ful fone.
God for his manace him fo fore fmote
With inviſible wound, ay incurable,
That in his guttes carfe it fo and bote
Thatte his peines weren importable;
And certainly the wreche was refonable,
For many a mannes guttes did he peine;
But from his purpos curfed and damnable,
For all his fmerte, he n'olde him not reftreine;
But bade anon apparailen his hoft.
And fodenly, or he was of it ware,
God daunted all his pride and all his boſt;
For he fo fore fell out of his chare
That it his limmes and his fkinne to-tare,
So that he neither mighte go ne ride,
But in a chaiere men about him bare,
Alle forbrufed bothe bak and fide.
The wreche of God him fmote fo cruelly
That thurgh his body wicked wormes crept,
And therwithal he ftanke fo horribly
That non of all his meinie that him kept,
Whether ſo that he woke or elles flept,
Ne mighte not of him the ftinke endure.
In this mifchiefe he wailed and eke wept,
And knew God lord of every creature.
To all his hoft and to himſelf alfo
Ful wlatfom was the ſtinke of his careine;
No man ne mighte him beren to ne fro;
And in this ftinke and this horrible peine
He ſtarf ful wretchedly in a mountaine.
Thus hath this robbour and this homicide,
That many a man made to wepe and pleine,
Swiche guerdon as belongeth unto pride.
Alexander.
The ftorie of Alexandre is fo commune
That every wight that hath difcretioun
Hath herd fomwhat or all of his fortune.
This wide world, as in conclufioun,
He wan by ftrength, or for his high renoun
'They weren glad for pees unto him fende.
The pride of man and boſt he layd adòun,
Wher fo he came, unto the worldes ende.
Kij
ISO
THE MONKES TALE.
Comparifon might never yet be maked
Betwix him and another conquerour,
For al this world for drede of him hath quaked;
He was of knighthode and of fredome flour;
Fortune him maked the heir of hire honour.
Save wine and women nothing might affwage
His high entente in armes and labour,
So was he ful of leonin corage.
What pris were it to him though I you told
Of Darius, and an hundred thousand mo
Of kinges, princes, dukes, erles bold,
Which he conquered, and brought hem into wo?
I fay as fer as man may ride or go
The world was his; what fhuld I more devife?
For though I wrote or told you ever mo
Of his knighthode it mighte not ſuffice.
Twelf yere he regned, as faith Machabe :
Philippus fone of Macedoine he was,
That firft was king in Greece the contree.
O worthy gentil Alexandre! alas
That ever fhuld thee fallen fwiche a cas!
Enpoiſoned of thyn owen folke thou were;
Thy fis Fortune hath turned into an as,
And yet for thee ne wept fhe never a tere.
Who fhal me yeven teres to complaine
The deth of gentilleſſe and of fraunchiſe,
That all this world welded in his demaine,
And yet him thought it mighte not fuffice?
So ful was his corage of high empriſe.
Alas! who fhal me helpen to endite
Falſe Fortune, and poiſon to deſpiſe?
The which two of all this wo I wite.
Julius Cefar.
By wiſdome, manhode, and by gret labour,
From humblehede to real majeſtee
Up rofe he Julius the conquerour,
That wan all the occident by lond and fee
By ftrengthe of houd, or elles by tretee,
And unto Rome made hem tributarie,
And fith of Rome the Emperour was he
Til that Fortune wexe his adverſarie.
O mighty Cefar! that in Theffalie
Ageins Pompeius, father thin in lawe,
That of the orient had all the chivalrie
As fer as that the day beginneth dawe,
Thou thurgh thy knighthode haft hem take and
Save few folk that with Pompeius fledde, [flawe,
Thurgh which thou put all the orient in awe,
Thanke Fortune that fo wel thee fpedde.
But now a litel while I wol bewaile
This Pompeius, this noble governour
Of Rome, which that fled at this bataille.
I fay on of his men, a falfe traitour,
His hed of fmote, to winnen him favour
Of Julius, and him the hed he brought :
Alas, Pompeie! of the orient conquerour,
That Fortune unto fwiche a fin thee brought.
To Rome again repaircth Julius
With his triumphe laureat ful hie,
But on a time Brutus and Caffius,'
That ever had of his high cftat envie,
Ful prively had made confpiracie
Ageins this Julius in fotil wife,
And caft the place in which he ſhulde die
With bodekins, as I fhal you devife,
This Julius to the Capitolie wente
Upon a day, as he was wont to gon,
And in the Capitolie anon him hente
This falfe Brutus and his other foon,
And ftiked him with bodekins anon
With many a wound, and thus they let him lie
But never gront he at no ſtroke but on,
Or elles at two, but if his ftorie lie.
So manly was this Julius of herte,
And fo wel loved eftatly honcftee,
That though his dedly woundes fore ſmerte
His mantel over his hippes cafte he,
For no man fhulde ſeen his privetee;
And as he lay of dying in a trance,
And wifte veraily that ded was he,
Of honeſtee yet had he remembrance.
Lucan, to thee this ſtorie I recommende,
And to Sueton and Valerie alfo,
That of this ftorie writen word and ende,
How that to thiſe gret conqueroures two
Fortune was firſt a frend and fith a fo.
No man ne truſt upon hire favour long,
But have hire in await for evermo,
Witneffe on all thife conqueroures ſtrong.
Crefus.
The riche Crefus, whilom King of Lide,
Of whiche Crefus Cirus fore him dradde,
Yet was he caught amiddes all his pride,
And to be brent men to the fire him ladde,
But fwiche a rain doun from the welken fhadde
That flow the fire, and made to him cſcape;
But to beware no grace yet he hadde
Til Fortune on the galwes made him gape.
Whan he escaped was he can not ſtint
For to beginne a newe werre again :
He wened wel for that Fortune him fent
Swiche hap that he efcaped thurgh the rain
That of his foos he mighte not be flain;
And eke a fweven upon a night he mette
Of which he was fo proud and eke fo fain,
That in vengeance he all his herte fette.
Upon a tree he was, as that him thought,
Ther Jupiter him wesfhe both bak and ſide,
And Phebus cke a faire towail him brought
To drie him with, and therfore wex his pridę.
And to his doughter that ſtood him befide,
Which that he knew in high ſcience habound,
He bad hire tell him what it fignified,
And the his dreme began right thus expound.
The tree (quod fhe) the galwes is to mene,
And Jupiter betokeneth fnow and rain,
And Phebus with his towail clere and clene,
Tho ben the fonnes ftremes, foth to fain;
Thou shalt anhanged be, fader, certain ;
Rain fhal thee waſh, and ſonne ſhal thee drie,
Thus warned him ful plat and eke ful plain
His doughter, which that called was Phanie.
4
THE
MONKES TALE.
守
​Anhanged was Crefus the proude king;
His real trone might him not availle :
Tragedie is non other maner thing,
Ne can in finging crien ne bewaile,
But for that Fortune all day wol affaille
With unware ſtroke the regnes that ben proude;
For whan men truften hire than wol ſhe faille,
And cover hire bright face with a cloude.
Peter of Spaine.
O noble, o worthy, Petro, glorie of Spaine!
Whom Fortune held fo high in majeftee,
Wel oughten men thy pitous deth complaine :
Out of thy lond thy brother made thee flee,
And after at a fege by fotiltee
Thou were betraied and lad unto his tent,
Wher as he with his owen hond flow thee,
Succeding in thy regne and in thy rent.
The feld of fnow, with th' egle of blak therin,
Caught with the limerod, coloured as the glede,
He brewed this curfedneſſe and all this finne;
The wicked neſte was werker of this dede,
Not Charles Oliver, that toke
Of trouthe and honour, but of Armorike
Genilon Oliver, corrupt for mede,
Broughte this worthy king in fwiche a brike.
ay
Petro King of Cypre
hede
O worthy Petro! King of Cypre alſo,
That Alexandrie wan by high maiſtrie,
Ful many an Hethen wroughteſt thou ful wo,
Of which thin owen lieges had envie,
And for nothing but for thy chivalrie
They in thy bed han flain thee by the morwe.
Thus can Fortune hire whele governie and gie,
And out.of joye bringen men to forwe.
Barnabo Viscount.
Of Milane grete Barnabo Viſcount,
God of delit, and ſcourge of Lumbardie,
Why fhuld I not thin infortune account,
Sith in eftat thou clomben were ſo high?
Thy brothers fone, that was thy double allie,
For he thy nevew was and fone in lawe,
Within his prifon made he thee to die,
But why ne how n'ot I that thou were flawe.
Hugelin of Pife.
Of the Erl Hugelin of Pife the langour
Ther may no tonge tellen for pitee.
But litel out of Pife ftant a tour,
In whiche tour in priſon yput was he,
And with him ben his litel children three,
The eldeſt icarſely five yere was of age:
Alas! Fortune, it was gret crueltee
Swiche briddes for to put in fwiche a cage.
Dampned was he to die in that priſon,
For Roger which that Bishop was of Pife
Had on him made a falſe ſuggeſtion,
Thurgh which the peple gan upon him rife,
And put him in a prifon in fwiche a wife
As ye han herd; and mete and drinke he had
So fmale, that wel unnethe it may fuffife,
And therwithal it was ful poure and bad.
And on a day befell that in that houre
Whan that his mete wont was to be brought
The gailer fhette the dores of the toure;
He herd it wel, but he ſpake right nought:
And in his herte anon ther fell a thought
That they for hunger wolden do him dien :
Alas! quod he, alas that I was wrought!
Therwith the teres fellen fro his eyen.
His yonge fone, that three yere was of age,
Unto him faid, Fader, why do ye wepe?
Whan will the gailer bringen our potage?
Is the. no morfel bred that ye do kepe?
I am fo hungry that I may not ſlepe.
Now wold God that I might flepen ever,
Than fhuld not hunger in my wombe crepe;
Ther n'is no thing fauf bred that me were lever,
Thus day by day this childe began to crie,
Til in his fadres barme adoun it lay,
And faide, Farewel, fader, I mote die;
And kiſt his fader, and dide the fame day.
And whan the woful fader did it fey
For wo his armes two he gan to bite,
And faide, Alas! Fortune, and wala wa!
Thy falfe whele'my wo all may I wite.
His children wenden that for hunger it was
That he his armes gnowe, and not for wo,
And fayden, Fader, do not fo, alas!
But rather ete the flesh upon us two :
Our fleſh thou yaf us, take our fleſh us fro,
And ete ynough. Right thus they to him feide,
And after that, within a day or two,
They laide hem in his lappe adoun and deide.
Himſelf difpeired eke for hunger ſtarf.
Thus ended is this mighty Erl of Pife :
From high eftat Fortune away him carf.
Of this tragedie it ought ynough fuffice;
Who fo wol here it in a longer wife
Redeth the grete poete of Itaille
That highte Dante, for he can it deviſe
Fro point to point; not o word wol he faille,
Kiiij
?
น
153
THE NONNES PREESTES PROLOGUE.
$
Ho
THE NONNES PREESTES PROLOGUE.
o quod the Knight, good Sire, no more of this;
That ye han faid is right ynough ywis,
And mochel more; for litel hevineffe
Is right ynough to mochel folk 1 geſſe.
I fay for me it is a gret difefe
Wher as men have ben in gret wealth and eſe
To heren of hir foden fail, alas!
And the contrary is joye and gret folas,
As whan a man hath ben in poure eſtat,
And climbeth up and wexeth fortunat,
And ther abideth in profperitee:
Swich thing is gladfom as it thinketh me,
And of fwiche thing were goodly for to telle.
Ye, quod our Hofte, by Seint Poules belle,
Ye fay right foth. this Monk hath clapped loude;
He fpake how Fortune covered with a cloude
I wote not what, and als of a tragedie
Right now ye herd; and parde no remedie
It is for to bewailen ne complaine
That that is don, and als it is a paine,
As ye han faid, to here of hevinc ſſe.
Sire Monk, no more of this, fo God you bleſſe;
Your Tale anoyeth all this compagnie ;
Swiche talking is not worth a boterflie,
For therin is ther no difport ne game;
Therfore Sire Monk, Dan Picrs by your name,
I pray you hertely tell us fomwhat elles,
For fikerly n'ere of your belles
That on your bridel hange on every fide,
By heven king, that for us alle dide,
I fhuld er this have fallen doun for ſlepe,
Although the flough had ben never ſo depe,
Than hadde your Tale all ben told in vain :
For certainly, as that thife clerkes fain,
Wher as a man may have non audience
Nought helpeth it to tellen his fentence;
And wel I wote the fubftance is in me
If
any thing fhal wel reported be.
Sire, fay fomwhat of hunting I you pray.
Nay, quod this Monk, I have not luft to play:
Now lette another telle as I have told.
Than fpake our Hofte with rude ſpeche and bold,
And fayd unto the Nonnes Preeſt anon,
Come nere,thou Preeft,come hither, thou Sire John;
Telle us fwiche thing as may our hertes glade:
Be blithe although thou ride upon a jade.
What though thin horſe be both foule and lene?
If he wol ferve thee recke thee not a bene :
Loke that thyn herte, be mery evermo.
Yes, Hofte, quod he, fo mote I ride or go
But I be mery ywis I wol be blamed.
And right anon his Tale he hath attamed;
And thus he faid unto us everich on,
This fwete Preeft, this goodly man, Sire John.
THE NONNES PREESTES TALE*.
A POURE widewe, fomdel ftoupen in age,
Was whilom dwelling in a narwe cotage
Befide a grove ftonding in a dale.
This widewe, which I tell ou of my Tale,
Sin thilke day that fhe was laſt a wif
In patience led a ful fimple lif,
For litel was hire catel and hire rente;
By husbondry of fwiche as God hire fente
* of a cock and a ben; the moral whereof is to em.
brace true friends, and to beware of Batterers. Orry.
She found hirefelf and eke hire doughtren two
Three large fowes had fhe, and no mo,
Three kine, and eke a fheep that highte Malle:
Ful footy was hire boure and eke hire halle,
In which fhe cte many a flender mele ;
Of poinant fauce ne knew fhe never a dele :
No deintee morfel paffed thurgh hire throte
rlire diete was accordant to hire cote ;
Repletion ne made hire never fike;
Attempre diete was all hire phyfike,
THE NONNES PREESTES TALE.
153
And exereife, and hertes fuffifance :
'The goute let hire nothing for to dance,
Ne apoplexie fhente not hire hed:
No win ne dranke ſhe nyther white ne red
Hire bord was ſerved moft with white and black,
Milk and broun bred, in which ſhe fond no lack,
Scinde bacon, and fomtime an eye or twey,
For fhe was as it were a maner dey.
A yerd fhe had encloſed all about
With ftickes, and a drie diche without,
In which he had a cok highte Chaunteclere,
Ir all the land of crowing n'as his pere :
His vois was merier than the mery orgon
On maffe daies that in the chirches gon:
Wel fikerer was his crowing in his loge
Than is a clok or any abbey orloge:
By nature he knewe eche afcentioun
Of the equinoctial in thilke toun,
For whan degrees fiftene were afcended
Than crew he that it might not ben amended.
His combe was redder than the fin corall,
Enbattelled as it were a caftel wall;
His bill was black, and as the jet it fhone,
Like afure were his legges and his tone,
His nailes whiter than the lily flour,
And like the burned gold was his colour.
This gentil cok had in his governance
Seven hennes for to don all his plefance,
Which were his fufters and his paramoures
And wonder like to him as of coloures,
Of which the faireft, hewed in the throte,
Was cleped faire Damofelle Pertelote.
Curteis fhe was, difcrete, and debonaire,
And compenable, and bare hireſelf ſo faire,
Sithen the day that ſhe was ſevennight old,
That trewelich fhe hath the herte in hold
Of Chaunteclere, loken in every lith;
He loved hire fo that wel was him therwith:
But fwiche a joye it was to here hem fing,
Whan that the brighte fonne gan to ſpring,
In fwete accord, My lefe is fare in lond.
with:
For thilke time, as I have underſtond,
Beftes and briddes couden ſpeke and fing.
And fo befell that in a dawening
As Chaunteclere among his wives alle
Sate on his perche that was in the halle,
And next him fate his faire Pertelote,
This Chaunteclere gan gronnen in his throte
As man that in his dreme is dretched fore;
And whan that Pertelote thus herd him rore
She was agaft, and faide, Herte dere!
What aileth you to grone in this manere?
Ye ben a veray fleper, fy for fhame!
And he anſwered and fayde thus; Madame,
I pray you that ye take it not agrefe;
By God me mete I was in fwiche mifchefe
Right now, that ye min herte is fore afright.
Now God (quod he) my fweven recche aright,
And kepe my body out of foule prifoun.
My mete how that I romed up and doun
Within our yerde, wher as I faw a beſte
Was like an hound, and wold han made areſte
Upon my body, and han had me ded :
His colour was betwix yelwe and red,
And tipped was his tail and both his eres
With black, unlike the remenant of his heres:
His fnout was fmal, with glowing eyen twey;
Yet for his loke almoſt for fere I dey:
This caufed me my groning douteles.
Away, quod fhe; fy on you herteles!
Alas! quod fhe, for by that God above
Now han ye loft myn herte and all my love :
I cannot love a coward by my faith;
For certes, what fo any woman faith,
We al deuren, if it mighte be,
To have an huſbond hardy, wife, and free,
And fecree, and non niggard ne no fool,
Ne him that is agaft of every tool,
Ne non avantour by that God above.
How dorften ye for fhame fay to your love
That any thing might maken you aferde?
Han ye no mannes herte and han a berde?
Alas! and con ye ben agaft of fwevenis?
Nothing but vanitee, God wote, in fweven is.
Swevenes engendren of repletions,
And oft of fume, and of complexions,
Whan humours ben to habundant in a wight,
Certes this dreme which ye han met to-night
Cometh of the gret fuperfluitee
Of youre rede colera parde,
Which caufeth folk to dreden in hir dremes
Of arwes, and of fire with rede lemes,
Of rede beſtes that they wol hem bite,
Of conteke, and of wafpes gret and lite,
Right as the humour of melancolie
Caufeth.ful many a man in flepe to crie
For fere of bolles and of beres blake,
Or elles that blake devils wol hem take.
Of other humours coud I telle alfo,
That werken many a man in flepe and wo;
But I wol paffe as lightly as I can.
Lo Caton, which that was fo wife a man,
Said he not thus? Ne do no force of dremes.
Now, Sire, quod fhe, whan we flee frothe bemes
For Goddes love as take fom laxatif:
Up peril of my foul and of my lif
I confeil you the beſt, I wol not lie,
That both of coler and of melancolie
Ye purge you; and for ye fhul not tarie,
Though in this toun be non apotecarie,
I fhal myſelf two herbes techen you
That fhal be for your hele and for your prow,
An' in our yerde the herbes fhal I finde,
The which han of hir propretee by kinde
To purgen you benethe and eke above.
Sire, forgete not this for Goddes love;
Ye ben ful colerike of complexion;
Ware that the fonne in his afcention
Ne finde you not replete of humours hote;
And if it do I dare wel lay a grote
That ye fhul han a fever tertiane,
Or elles an ague, that may be your bane.
A day or two ye fhul han degeftives
Of wormes or ye take your laxatives,
Of laureole, centaurie, and fumetere,
Or elles of ellebor that groweth there,
Of catapuce or of gaitre beries,
Or erbe ive growing in our yerd tha: mery is ; `
154
PREESTES TALE.
THE NONNES
Picke hem right as they grow, and ete hem in.
Beth mery, hufbond; for your fader kin
Dredeth no dreme: I can fay you no more.
Madame, quod he, grand mercy of
your lore;
But natheles as touching Dan Caton,
That hath of wifdome ſwiche a gret renoun,
Though that he bade no dremes for to drede,
By God men moun in olde bookes rede
Of many a man more of auctoritee
Than ever Caton was, fo mote I the,
That all the revers fayn of his fentence,
And han wel found. n by experience
That dremes ben fignifications
As wel of joye as tribulations.
That folk enduren in this lif preſent:
Ther nedeth make of this non argument;
The veray preve fheweth it indede.
On of the greteft auctours that men rede
Saith thus, that whilom twey felawes wentę
On pilgrimage in a ful good entente,
And happed fo they came into a toun
Wher ther was fwiche a congregatioun.
Of peple, and eke fo ftreit of herbergage,
That they ne founde as moche as a cotage
In which they bothe might ylogged be,
Wherfore they muſten of neceffitee;
As for that night, departen compagnie,
And eche of hem goth to his hoftelrie,
And toke his logging as it wolde falle.
That on of hem was logged in a ſtalle,
Fer in a yard, with oxen of the plough,
That other man was logged wel ynough,
As was his aventure or his fortune,
That us governeth all, as in commune.
And fo befell that long or it were day
This man met in his bed ther as he lay
How that his felaw gan upon him calle,
And faid, Alas! for in an oxes ſtalle
This night fhal I be mordred ther I lie;
Now help me, dere brother! or I die;
In alle haſte come to me, he ſaide.
This man out of his flepe for fere abraide;
But whan that he was waked of his ſlepe
He turned him, and toke of this no kepe;
Him thought his dreme was but a vanitee.
Thus twies in his fleping dremed he.
And at the thridde time yet his felaw
Came, as him thought, and ſaid, I now am flaw;
Behold my blody woundes depe and wide:
Arife up erly in the morwe tide,
And at the weft gate of the toun (quod he)
A carte ful of donge ther ſhalt thou ſee,
In which my body is hid prively;
Do thilke carte arreften boldely.
My gold caufed my mordre, foth to fain;
And told him every point how he was flain
With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe;
And trufteth wel his dreme he found ful trewe;
For on the morwe fone as it was day
To his felawes inne he toke his way,
And whan that he came to this oxes ſtalle
After his felaw he began to calle.
The hofteler anfwered him anon,
agoni
And faide, Sire, your felaw is
As fone as day he went out of the tour.
This man gan fallen in fufpecioun,
Remembring on his dremes that he mette,
And forth he goth, no lenger wold he lette,
Unto the weft gate of the toun, and fond
A dong carte as it went for to dong lond,
That was arraied in the fame wife
As ye han herde the dede man devife,
And with an harde herte he gan to crie
Vengeance and juftice of this felonie;
My felaw mordred is this fame night,
And in this carte he lith gaping upright.
I crie out on the minifters, quod he,
That fhulden kepe and reulen this citee:
Harow! alas! here lith my felaw ſlain.
What fhuld I more unto this tale fain?
The peple out ftert, and caft the cart to ground
And in the middel of the dong they found
The dede man that mordred was all newe.
O blisful God! that art fo good and trewe,
Lo, how that thou bewreyeft mordre alway!
Mordre wol out, that fee we day by day:
Mordre is fo wlatfom and abhominable
To God, that is ſo juſt and reſonable,
That he ne wol not fuffre it hylled be:
Though it abide a yere, or two or three,
Mordre wol out; this is my conclufioun.
And right anon the miniftres of the toun
Han hent the carter, and fo fore him pined,
And eke the hofteler fo fore engined,
That they beknewe hir wickedneffe anon,
And were anhanged by the necke bon.
Here moun ye fee that dremes ben to drede,
And certes in the fame book I rede,
Right in the next chapitre after this,
(1 gabbe not, fo have I joye and blis)
Two men that wold han paſſed over the ſee,
For certain caufe, in to a fer contree,
If that the winde ne hadde ben contrarie,
That made hem in a citee for to tarie
That ſtood ful mery upon a haven fide:
But on a day, agein the even tide,
The wind gan change, and blewright as hem left;
Jolif and glad they wenten to hir reft,
And caften hem ful erly for to ſaile;
But to that o man fel a gret mervaile.
That on of hem in fleping as he lay
He mette a wonder dreme again the day:
Him thought a man ftood by his beddes fide,
And him commanded that he ſhuld abide,
And faid him thus; If thou to-morwe wende
Thou shalt be dreint; my tale is at an ende. :
He woke, and told his felaw what he met,
And praied him his viage for to let;
As for that day he prayd him for to abide.
His felaw, that lay by his beddes fide,
Gan for to laugh, and fcorned him ful fafte
No dreme, quod he, may fo my herte agafte
That I wol leten for to do my thinges:
I fette not a ſtraw by thy dreminges,
For fwevens ben but vanitees and japes:
Men dreme al day of oules and of apes,
And eke of many a mafe therwithal;
Men dreme of thing that never was ne hat.
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But fith I fee that thou wol there abide,
And thus forflouthen wilfully thy tide,
God wot it reweth me; and have good day :
And thus he took his leve, and went his way.
But or that he had half his cours yfailed,
N'ot I not why ne what meſchance it ailed,
But cafuelly the fhippes bottom rente,
And ſhip and man under the water wente
In fight of other fhippes ther befide
That with him failed at the fame tide.
And therfore, faire Pertelote fo dere,
By fwiche enfamples olde maift thou lere
That no man fhulde be to reccheles
Of dremes, for I fay thee douteles
That many a dreme ful fore is for to drede.
Lo, in the lif of Seint Kenelme I rede,
That was Kenulphus fone, the noble King
Of Mercenrike, how Kenelm mette a thing.
A litel or he were mordred on a day
His mordre in his avifion he fay;
His norice him expouned every del
Hs fweven, and bade him for, to kepe him wel
Fro trefon; but he n'as but feven yere old,
And therfore litel tale hath he told
Of any dreme, fo holy was his hertę.
By God I hadde lever than my fherte
That ye had red his legend as have I.
Dame Pertelote, I fay you trewely,
Microbius, that writ the aviñon
In Afrike of the worthy Scipion,
Affirmeth drenies, and fayth that they ben
Warning of thinges that men after ſeen,
And forthermore, I pray you loketh wel
In The Olde Teftamen, of Daniel,
If he held dremes any vanitee.
Rede eke of Jofeph, and ther fhuln ye fee
Wher dremes ben fomtime (I fay not alle)
Warning of thinges that fhuln after falle.
Loke of Egipt the king, Dan Pharao,
His baker and his boteler alfo,
Wheder they ne felten non effect in dremes,
Who fo wol feken actes of fondry remes
May rede of dremes many a wonder thing.
Lo Crefus, which that was of Lydie king,
Matte he not that he fat upon a tree?
Which fignified he fhuld anhanged be.
Lo hire Adromacha, Hectores wif,
That day that Hector fhulde lefe his lif,
She dremed on the fame nighte beforne
How that the lif of Hector fhuld be lorne
If thilke day he went into bataille;
She warned him, but it might not availle;
He went forth for to fighten natheles,
And was yflain anon of Achilles.
But thilke tale is al to long to telle,
And eke it is nigh day, I may not dwelle.
Shortly I fay, as for conclufion,
That I fhal han of this avifion
Adverfitee; and I fay forthermore,
That I ne tell of laxatives no ſtore,
For they ben venimous, I wot it wel:
I hem deffie; 1 love hem never a del,
But let us fpeke of mirthe, and ſtinte all this.
Madame Pertelote, fo have I blis,
Of o thing God hath fent me large grace,
For whan I fee the beautee of your face,
Ye ben fo fcarlet red about your eyen,
It maketh all my drede for to dien;
For al fo fiker as In principia
Mulier eft hominis confufio,
(Madame, the fentence of this Latine is,
Woman is mannes joye and mannes blis;)
For whan I fele a-night your fofte fide,
Al be it that I may not on you ride
For that our perche is made fo narwe, alas!
I am ſo ful of joye and of folas
That I deffie bothe fweven and dreme.
And with that word he flew doun fro the beme
For it was day, and eke his hennes alle,
And with a chuk he gan hem for to calle,
For he had found a corn lay in the yerd.
Real he was, he was no more aferd;
He fethered Pertelote twenty time,
And trade hire eke as oft, er it was prime:
He loketh as it were a grim leoun,
And on his toos he rometh up and doun;
Him deigned not to ſet his feet to ground :
He chukketh, whan he hath a corn yfound,
And to him rennen than his wives alle.
Thus real as a prince is in his halle
Leve I this Chaunteclere in his paſture,
And after wol I till his aventure.
Whan that the month in which the world began
That highte March, whan God first maked man
Was complete, and ypaſſed were alſo
Sithen March ended thritty dayes and two,
Befell that Chaunteclere in all his pride,
His feven wives walking him befide,
Caft up his eyen to the brighte fonne,
That in the figne of Taurus hadde yronne
Twenty degrees and on, and fomwhat more:
He knew by kind, and by non other lore,
That it was prime, and crew with blisful fleven,
The fonne, he faid, is clomben up on heven
Twenty degrees and on, and more ywis;
Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis,
Herkeneth thiſe blisful briddes how they fing
And fee the freſhe floures how they fpring;
Ful is min herte of revel and of folas.
But fodenly him fell a forweful cas,
For ever the latter ende of joye is wo;
God wote that worldly joye is fone ago;
And if a rethor coude faire endite
He in a chronicle might it faufly write
As for a foveraine notabilitee.
Now every wife man let him herken me
This ftory is al fo trewe, I undertake,
As is the book of Launcelot du Lake,
That women holde in ful gret reverence.
Now wol I turne agen to my ſentence.
A col fox, ful of fleigh iniquitee,
That in the grove had wonned yeres three,
By high imagination forecaſt,
The fame night thurghout the hegges braft
Into the yerd ther Chaunteclere the faire
Was wont, and eke his wives, to.repaire,
And in a bedde of wortes ftille he lay
Till it was paffed undern of the day,
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THE NONNES PREESTES TALE.
Waiting his time on Chaunteclere to falle,
As gladly don thife homicides alle
That in await liggen to mordre men.
O falfe morderour! rucking in thy den,
O newe Scariot, newe Genelon!
O falfe diffimulour, o Greck Sinon!
That broughteft Troye al utterly to forwe,
O Chaunteclere! accurfed be the morwe
That thou into thy yerd flew fro the bemes;
Thou were ful wel ywarned by thy dremes
That thilke day was perilous to thee:
But what that God forewote moſt nedes be,
After the opinion of certain clerkes,
Witneffe on him that any parfit clerk is,
That in fcole is gret altercation
In this matere and gret difputifon,
And hath ben of an hundred thoufand men :
But I ne cannot boult it to the bren,
As can the holy Doctour Auguſtin,
Or Boece, or the bishop Bradwardin,
Whether that Goddes worthy foreweting
Streineth me nedeiy for to don a thing,
(Nedely clepe I fimple neceffitee)
Or elles if free chois be granted me
To do that fame thing or do it nought,
Though God forewot it or that it was wrought,
Or if his weting ftreineth never a del
But by neceffitee condicionel.
I wol not han to don of fwiche matere;
My Tale is of a cok, as ye may here,
That took his confeil of his wif with forwe
To walken in the yerd upon the morwe
That he had met the dreme, as I you told.
Womennes confeiles ben ful often cold;
Womennes confeil brought us firſt to wo,
And made Adam fro Paradis to go,
Ther as he was ful mery and wel at efe :
But for I n'ot to whom I might difpleſe
If I confeil of women wolde blame,
Paffe over, for I faid it in my game.
Rede auctours where they trete of fwiche matere,
And what they fayn of women ye mown here.
'Thiſe ben the Cokkes wordes and not mine;
I can non harme of no woman devine.
Faire in the fond, to bath hire merily,
Lith Pertelote, and all hire fufters by,
Agein the fonne, and Chaunteclere ſo free
Sang merrier than the mermaid in the fee,
For Phifiologus fayth fikerly
How that they fingen wel and merily.
And fo befell that as he caft his eye
Among the wortes on a boterflie
He was ware of this fox that lay ful low:
Nothing ne lift him thaune for to crow,
But cried anon Cok, cok, and up he fterte
As man that was affraied in his herte;
For naturally a beeft defireth flee
Fro his contrarie if he may it fee,
Though he never erft had ſeen it with his eye.
This Chaunteclere, whan he gan him efpic,
He wold han fled, but that the fox anon
Said, Gentil Sire, alas! what wol ye don?
Be ye affraid of me that am your frend?
Now certes I were werfe than any fend
If I to you wold harme or vilanie.
I n'am not come your confeil to eſpie,
But trewely the cauſe of my coming
Was only for to herken how ye fing,
For trewely ye han as mery a ſteven
As any angel hath that is in heven,
Therwith ye han of mufike more feling
Than had Boece, or any that can fing.
My Lord, your fader (God his foule bleffe)
And eke your moder of hire gentilleffe
Han in myn hous yben, to my gret eſe,
And certes, Sire, ful fain wold I you plefe.
But for men fpeke of fingen, I wol fey,
So mote I brouken wel min eyen twey,
Save you ne herd I never man fo fing
As did your fader in the morwening:
Certes it was of herte all that he ſong:
And for to make his nois the more strong
He wold fo peine him, that with both his cyen
He mufte winke, ſo loude he walde crien,
And ſtonden on his tiptoon therwithal,
And ſtretchen forth his necke long and fmal.
And eke he was of ſwiche diſcretion,
That ther n'as no man in no region
That him in fong or wiſdom mighte paffe.
I have wel red in Dan Burnel the affe
Among his vers, how that ther was a cok
That for a preeftes fone yave him a knok
Upon his leg, while he was yonge and nice,
He made him for to lefe his benefice;
But certain ther is no compariſon
Betwix the wifdom and difcretion
Of your fader and his fubtilitee.
Now fingeth, Sire, for Seint Charitee:
Let fee, can ye your fader counterfete?
This Chaunteclere his winges gan to bete,
As man that coud not his trefon eſpie,
So was he raviſhed with his flaterie.
Alas! ye lordes, many a falfe flatour
Is in your court, and many a lofengcour,
That plefeth you wel more, by my faith,
Than he that fothfaftneffe unto you faith,
Redeth Ecclefiaft of flaterie :
Beth ware, ye lordes, of hire trecherie.
This Chaunteclere ftood high upon his toos
Streching his necke, and held his eyen cloos
And gan to crowen loude for the nones;
And Dan Ruffel the fox ftert up at ones,
And by the gargat hente Chaunteclere,
And on his back toward the wood him bere,
For yet ne was ther no man that him fued.
O deftinee that maift not ben efchued,
Alas that Chaunteclere flew fro the bemes!
Alas, his wif ne raughte not of dremes!
And on a Friday fel all this mefchance.
O Venus! that art goddeffe of Plefance,
Sin that thy fervant was this Chaunteclere,
And in thy fervice did all his powere,
More for delit than world to multiplie,
Why wolt thou fuffre him on thy day to die?
O Gaufride, dere maifter foverain!
That whan thy worthy King Richard was flain
With fhot complainedeſt his deth fo fore,
Why ne had I now thy ſcience and thy lore
THE NONNES
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PREESTES TALE
The Friday for to chiden as did ye?
(For on a Friday fothly flain was he)
Then wold I fhew you how that I coud plaine
For Chaunteclercs drede and for his paine.
Cerces fwiche cry ne lamentation
N'as never of ladies made whan Ilion
Was wonne, and Pirrus with ftreite ſwerd,
When he had hen King Priam by the berd
And flain him, (as faith us Enidos!
As meden all the hennes in the cloos
Whan they had feen of Chaunteclere the fight;
But foverainly Dame Pertelote fhright
Ful louder than did Hafdruballes wif
Whan that hire huſbond hadde yloft his lif,
And that the Romaines hadden brent Cartage;
She was fo ful of turment and of rage
That wilfully into the fire fhe fterte,
And brent hire felven with a ſtedfaſt herte.
O woful hennes! right fo criden ye
As whan that Nero brente the citce
Of Rome cried the Senatoures wives
For that hir huſbonds loften alle hir lives.
Withouten gilt this Nero hath hem flain.
Now wol I turne unto my Tale again.
The fely widewe and hire doughtren two
Harden thefe hennes crie and maken wo,
And out at the dores fterten they anon,
And faw the fox toward the wode is gon,
And bare upon his back the cok away :
They crieden out Harow and wala wa!
A ha the fox! and after him they ran,
And eke with ftaves many an other man;
Ran Colle our dogge, and Talbot and Gerlond,
And Malkin, with hire diftaf in hire hond;
Ran cow and calf; and eke the veray hogges
So fered were for barking of the dogges,
And fhouting of the men and women eke,
They ronnan fo hem thought hir hertes breke;
They yelleden as fendes don in helle ;
The dokes crieden as men wold hem quelle:
The gees for fere flewen over the trees,
Out of the hive came the fwarme of bees,
So hidous was the noife, a benedicite!
Certes he Jakke Straw and his meinie
Ne maden never fhoutes half fo fhrille,
Whan that they wolden any Fleming kille,
As thilke day was made upon the fox.
Of bras they broughten beemes and of box,
Of horn and bone, in which they blew and pouped,
And therwithal they fhriked and they houped;
It femed as that the heven fhulde falle.
Now, goode men, I pray you herkeneth alle :
Lo how Fortune turneth fodenly
The hope and pride eke of hire enemy !
This cok that lay upon the foxes bake,
In all his drede unto the fox he fpake,
And fayde; Sire, if that I were as ye
Yet wold I fain, (as wifly God help me)
Turneth agein, ye proude cherles alle,
A very peftilence upon you falle :
Now I am come unto the wodes fide,
Maugre your hed the cok fhal here abide;
I wol him ete in faith, and that anon.
The fox anſwered, in faith it ſhal be don;
And as he spake the word al fodenly
The cok brake from his mouth deliverly,
And high upon a tree he flew anon,
And whan the fox faw that the cok was gon,
Alas! quod he, o Chaunteclere, alas !
I have (quod he) ydon to you trefpas,
In as moche as I maked you aferd
Whan I you hente and brought out of your yera
But, Sire, I did it in no wikke entente :
Come doun, and I fhal tell you what I mente:
I fhal fay fothe to you, God helpe me fo.
Nay than quod he, I fhrewe us bothe two;
And firft I farewe myſelf bothe blood and bones
If thou begile me oftener than ones:
Thou shalt no more thurgh thy flaterie
Do me to fing and winken with mine eye,
For he that winketh whan he fhulde fee,
Al wilfully, God let him never the.
Nay, quod the fox, but God yeve him mefchance
That is fo indifcrete of governance
That jangleth whan that he fhuld hold his pees.
Lo, which it is for to be reccheles
And-negligent, and trust on flaterie.
But
ye that holden this Tale a folie,
As of a fox, or of a cok or hen,
Taketh the moralitee therof, good men;
For Seint Poule fayth, that all that writen is
To our doctrine it is ywriten ywis.
Taketh the fruit, and let the chaf be ftille,
Now, goode God, if that it be thy wille,
As fayth my Lord, fo make us all good men,
And bring us to thy high bliffe. Amsa
Sire Nonnes Preeft, our Hofte fayd anon,
Ybleffed be thy breche and every fton;
This was a miery Tale of Chaunteclere:
But by my trouthe if thou were feculere
Thou woldeft ben a tredefoule a right,
For if thou have corage as thou haft might
Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene,
Ye mo than feven times feventene.
Se whiche braunes hath this gentil Preeft,
So gret a neck, and fwiche a large breeft
He loketh as a fparhauk with his eyen:
Him nedeth not his colour for to dien
With Brafil ne with grain of Portingale,
But, Sire, faire falle you for your Tale.
And after that he with ful mery chere
Sayd to another as ye fhulen here.
1r.
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THE SECOND NONNES TALÉ
THE SECOND NONNES TALE*.
THE miniftre and the norice unto vices,
Which that men clepe in Engliſh Idelneffe,
That porter at the gate is of Delices,
'To efchuen, and by hire contrary hire oppreffe,
That is to fain, by leful befineffe.
Wel oughte we to don al our entente.
Left that the fend thurgh idelneffe us hente.
For he that with his thouſand cordes flie
Continuelly us waiteth to be clappe,
Whan he may man in idelneffe efpie,
He can fo lightly cacche him in his trappe,
Til that a man be hent right by the lappe
He n'is not ware the fend hath him in hond:
Wel ought us werche and idelneffe withſtond.
And though men dradden never för to die,
Yet fee men wel by refon douteles
That idelneffe is rote of flogardie,
Of which ther never cometh no good encrees,
And fee that flouth holdeth hem in a lees,
Only to flepe and for to ete and drinke,
And to devouren all that other fwinke.
And for to put us from fwiche idelneffe,
That cauſe is of gret confuſion,
I have here don my feithful befineffe,
After the legende, in tranflation
Right of thy glorious lif and paffion,
Thou with thy gerlond wrought of rofe and lilie,
Thee mene I, maid and martir, Seinte Cecilie,
And thou, that arte floure of virgines all,
Of whom that Bernard lift fo wel to write,
To thee at my beginning firft I call,
Thou comfort of us wretches, do me endite
Thy maidens deth, that wan thurgh hire merite
The eternal lif, and over the fend victorie,
As man may after reden in hire ftorie.
Thou maide and mother, doughter of thy fon,
Thou wel of mercy, finful foules cure,
In whom that, God of bountee chees to won;
Thou humble and high over every creature,
Thou nobledeſt ſo fer forth our nature,
That no difdaine the maker had of kinde
His fon in blood and fleſh to clothe and winde.
Within the cloyftre blisful of thy fides
Toke mannes fhape the eternal Love and Pees,
* The life and death of Saint Cecily. Sp,
That of the trine compas Lord and guide is,
Whom erthe, and fee, and heven, out of rellees
Ay herien; and thou virgine wemmeles
Barc of thy body (and dwelteſt maiden pure}
The Creatour of every creature.
Affembled in thee magnificence
With mercy goodneſſe, and with ſwiche pitee,
That thou that art the fonne of excellence,
Not only helpeft hem that praien thee,
But oftentime of thy benignitee
Ful freely, or that men thin helpe befeche,
Thou goeft beforne and art hir lives leche.
Now helpe, thou meke and blisful faire maide,
Me flamed wretch, in this defert of galle;
Thinke on the woman Cananee, that faide
That whelpes eten fom of the cromes alle
That from hir lordes table been yfalle;
And though that I, unworthy fone of Eve,
Be finful, yet accepteth my beleve.
And for that feith is ded withouten werkes,
So for to werken yeve me wit and ſpace
That I be quit from thennes that moft derke is:
O thou that art fo faire and ful of grace,
Be thou min advocat in that high place,
Ther as withouten ende is forge Ofanne,
Thou Criftes mother, doughter dere of Anne.
And of thy light my foule in priſon light,
That troubled is by the contagion
Of my body, and alfo by the wight
Of erthly luft and falſe affection:
O haven of refute o falvation
Of hem that ben in forwe and in diftreffe!
Now help, for to my werk I wol me dreffe.
Yet pray I you that reden that I write
Foryeve me that I do no diligence
This ilke ftorie fubtilly to endite ;
For both have I the wordes and fentence
Of him that at the feintes reverence
The ſtorie wrote, and folowed hire legende,
And pray you that ye wol my werk amende.
First wol I you the name of Seinte Cecilie
Expoune, as men may in hire ftorie fee;
It is to fayn in English, Hevens lilie,
For
pure chaftneffe of virginitee,
Or for the whitneffe had of honeftee,
And grene of confcience, and of good fame
The fwote favour, Lilie was hire name.
THE SECOND NONNES TALE.
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Or Cecile is to fayn, The way to blinde,
For fhe enfample was by good teching,
Or elles Cecilie, as I writen finde,
Is joined by a maner conjoining
Of heven and Lia, and here in figuring
The heven is fet for thought of holineffe,
And Lia for hire lafting befineffe.
Cecilie may eke be fayd in this manere,
Wanting of blindneffe, for hire grete light
Of fapience, and for hire thewes clere ;
Or elles lo this maidens name bright
Of heven and Leos cometh, for which by right
Men might hire wel the heven of peple calle,
Infample of good and wife werkes alle.
For Leos peple in Engliſh is to ſay :
And right as men may in the heven fee
The fonne and mone, and ſterres, every way,
Right fo men goftly, in this maiden free
Sawen of faith the magnanimitee,
And eke the clereneffe hole of fapience,
And fondry werkes bright of excellence.
And right fo as thiſe pholofophres write,
That heven is ſwift and round, and eke brenning,
Right fo was faire Cecilie the white
Ful fwift and befy in every good werking,
And round an hole in good perfevering,
And brenning ever in charitiee ful bright.
Now have I you delcared what the hight.
This maiden bright Cecile, as hire life faith,
Was come of Romaines and noble kind,
And from hire cradle foftred in the faith
Of Criſt, and bare his goſpel in hire mind:
She never cefed, as I writen find,
Of hire prayere, and God to love and drede,
Befeching him to kepe hire maidenhede.
And whan this maiden fhuld until a man
Ywedded be that was ful yonge of age,
Which that ycleped was Valerian,
And day was comen of hire marriage,
She ful devout and humble in hire corage,
Under hire robe of gold, that fat ful faire
Had next hire flefh yclad hire in an haire.
And while that the organs maden melodie
To God alone thus in hire hert fong fhe;
O Lord! my foule and eke my bodie gie
Unwemmed, left that I confounded be.
And for his love that died upon the tree
Every fecond or thridde day fhe faft,
Ay bidding in hire orifons ful faft.
The night came, and to bed muft ſhe gon
With hire hufbond, as it is the manere,
And prively the faid to him anon;
O fwete and wel beloved ſpouſe dere!
Ther is a confeil, and ye wol it here,
Which that right fayn I wold unto you faie,
So that ye fwere ye wol it not bewraie.
Valerian gan faft unto hire fwere
That for no cas ne thing that mighte be
He fhulde never to non bewraien here;
And than at erft thus to him faide fhe;
I have an angel which that loveth me,
That with gret love wher fo I wake or flepe
Is redy ay my body for to kepe:
And if that he may felen out of drede
That ye me touch or love in vilanie,
3
He right anon wol fleen you with the dede,
And in your youthe thus ye fhulden die ;
And if that ye in clene love me gie,
He wol you love as me for your cleneneffe,
And fhew to you his joye and his brightneffe.
This Valerian, corrected as God wold,
Anſwered again; If I fhal truften thee
Let me that angel feen and him behold,
And if that it a veray angel be,
Than wol I don as thou haft prayed me ;
And if thou love another man, forfothe
Right with this fwerd then wol I flee you bothe.
Cecile anfwerd anon right in this wife:
If that you lift the angel fhul you fee,
So that ye trowe on Criſt, and you baptife :
Go forth to Via Apia, (quod fhe)
That fro this toun ne ftant but miles three,
And to the poure folkes that ther dwellen
Say hem right thus as that I fhal you tellen.
Tell hem that I Cecile you to hem ſent
To fhewen you the good Urban the old,
For fecree nedes and for good entent;
And whan that ye Seint Urban han behold,
Tell him the wordes whiche I to you told:
And whan that he hath purged you fro finne
Than fhal ye feen that angel ere
feen that angel ere ye twinne.
Valerian is to the place gon,
And right as he was taught by hire lerning
He fond this holy old Urban anon
Among the feintes buriels louting;
And he anon withouten tarying
Did his meſſage, and whan that he it tolde
Urban for joye his hondes gan upholde.
The teres from his eyen let he falle;
Almighty Lord, o Jefu Criſt! quod he,
Sower of chaft confeil, hierde of us alle,
The fruit of thilk feede of chaſtitee
That thou haft fow in Cecile take to thee:
Lo, like a befy bee withouten gile
Thee ferveth ay thin owen thral Cecile.
For thilk ſpouſe that fhe toke but newe,
Ful like a fiers leon, fhe fendeth here
As meke as ever was any lamb or ewe.
And with that word anon ther gan apere
An old man clad in white clothes clere,
That had a book with letters of gold in hond,
And gan beforne Valerian to ftond.
Valerian as ded fell doun for drede
Whan he him faw, and he up hent him tho,
And on his book right thus he gan to rede:
On Lord, on faith, on God withouten mo,
On Criftendom, and fader of all alſo
Aboven all, and over all every wher.
Thiſe wordes all with gold ywriten were.
Whan this was red, than faid this olde man,
Leveft thou this thing or no? fay ye or nay.
I leve all this thing, quod Valerian,
For fother thing than this I dare wel fay
Under the heven no wight thinken may.
Tho vanished the olde man he n'ifte wher,
And Pope Urban him criſtened right ther.
Valerian goth home, and fint Cecilie
Within his chambre with an angel ftonde :
This angel had of roſes and of lilie
Corones two, the which he bare in honde,
And first to Cecile, as I underſtonde,
160
THE SECOND NONNES TALË.
He yaf that on, and after gan he take
That other to Valerian hire make,
With body clene and with unwemmed thought
Kepeth ay wel thife corones two, quod he,
From Paradis to you I have hem brought,
Ne never mo ne fhul they roten be,
Ne lefe hir fwete favour, trufteth me,
Ne never wight fhal feen hem with his eye,
But he be chafte and hate vilanie.
And thou, Valerian, for thou fo fone
Affentedeft to good confeil, alſo
Say what thee lift and thou shalt han thy bone.
I have a brother, quod Valerian tho,
That in this world I love ne man ſo,
I pray you that my brother may
may have grace
To know the trouth, as I do in this place.
The angel fayd, God liketh thy request,
And bothe with the palme of martirdome
Ye fhullen come unto this blissful reft;
And with that word Tiburce his brother come.
And whan that he the favour undernome,
Which that the rofes and the lilies caft,
Within his herte he gan to wonder faſt,
萨
​And faid; I wonder this time of the yere
Whenes that fwete favour cometh fo
Of rofes and lilies that I fmelle here,
For though I had hem min hondes two
The favour might in me no deper go:
'The fwete fmel that in min herte I find
Hath changed me all in another kind.
Valerian faid, Two corones han we
Snow-white and rofe-red, that fhinen clere,
Which that thin eyen han no might to fee,
And as thou fmelleft hem thurgh my praiere,
So fhalt thou feen hem, leve brother dere,
If it fo be thou wolt withouten flouthe
Beleve aright, and know the veray trouthe.
Tiburce anfwered; Saieft thou this to me
In fothneffe, or in dreme herken I this?
In dremes, quod Valerian, han we be
Unto this time, brother min, ywis;
But now at erſt in trouthe our dwelling is.
How woft thou this, quod Tiburce, in what wife?
Quod Valerian, That fhal I thee devife.
The angel of God hath me the trouth ytaught,
Which thou shalt feen, if that thou wilt reney
The idoles, and be clene, and elles naught.
And of the miracle of thife corones twey
Seint Ambrofe in his preface lift to fey;
Solempnely this noble doctour dere
Commendeth it, and faith in this manere:
The palme of martirdome for to receive
Seint Cecilie, fulfilled of Goddes yeft,
The world and eke hire chambre gan fhe weive,
Witnelle Tiburces and Ceciles fhrift,
To, which God of his bountee wolde fhift
Corones two, of floures wel fmelling,
And made his angel hem the corones bring.
The maid hath brought thife men to bliffe
above;
The world hath wift what it is worth certain,
Devotion of chaftitee to love.
Though fhewed him Cecile all open and plain
That all idoles n'is but a thing in vain,
For they ben dombe, and therto they ben deve,
And charged him his idoles for to leve.
Who fo that troweth not this, a beſt he is,
Quod this Tiburce, if that I fhal not lie,
And the gan kiffe his breft whan fhe herd this,
And was ful glad he coude trouthe eſpie:
This day I take thee for min allie,
Saide this blifsful faire maiden dere;
And after that fhe faid as ye may here:
Lo, right fo as the love of Crift (quod fhe)
Made me thy brothers wif, right in that wife
Anon for min allie here take I thee,
Sithen that thou wolt thin idoles defpife.
Goth with thy brother now and thee baptife,
And make thee clene, fo that thou maiſt behold
The angels face of which thy brother told.
Tiburce anſwered, and faide, Brother dere,
Firft tell me whither I fhal, and to what man.
To whom, quod he, Come for with goode chere,
I wol thee lede unto the Pope Urban.
To Urban? brother min, Valerian,
Quod tho Tiburce, wilt thou me thider lede?
Me thinketh that it were a wonder dede.
Ne meneft thou not Urban (quod he tho)
That is fo often damned to be ded,
And woneth in halkes alway to and fro,
And dare not ones putten forth his hed?
Men fhold him brennen in a fire fo red
If he were found, or that men might him ſpie;
And we alfo, to bere him compagnie.
And while we feken thilke divinitec
That is yhid in heven prively,
Algate ybrent in this world fhuld we be.
To whom Cecile anfwered boldely;
Men mighten dreden wel and fkilfully
This lif to lefe, min owen dere brother!
If this were living only and non other.
But ther is better lif in other place
That never fhal be loft, ne drede thee nought.
Which Goddes fone us tolde thurgh his grace,
That fadres fone which alle thinges wrought;
And all that wrought is with a ſkilful thought,
'The goft that from the fader gan procede
Hath fouled hem withouten any drede.
By word and by miracle he Goddes fone,
Whan he was in this world, declared here
That ther is other lif ther men may wone.
To whom anfwerd Tiburce; O fufter dere!
Ne faideft thou right now in this manere,
Ther n'is but o God Lord in fothfaftneffe,
And now of three how mayft thou bere witneffe?
That fhal I tell, quod fhe, or that I go.
Right as a man hath fapiences three,
Memorie, engine, and intellect alſo,
So in o being of divinitee
Three perfones mowen ther righte wel be.
Tho gan fhe him ful befily to preche
Of Criftes fonde, and of his peines teche,
And many pointes of his paffion,
How Goddes fone in this world was withhold
To don mankinde pleine remiffion,
That was ybound in finne and kares cold.
All this thing the uato Tiburce told,
THE SECOND
+61
NONNES TALE.
And after this Tiburce in good entent
With Valerian to Pope Urban he went,
That thanked God, and with glad herte and
light
He criſtened him, and made him in that place
Parfite in his lerning, and Goddes knight :
And after this Tiburce gat fwiche grace
That every day he ſaw in time and ſpace
The angel of God and every maner bone
That he God axed it was fped ful fone.
It were ful hard by ordre for to fain
How many wonders Jeſus for hem wrought:
But at the laſt, to tellen fhort and plain,
The fergeaunts of the toun of Rome hem fought,
And hem before Almache the Prefect brought,
Which hem appofed, and knew all hir entent,
And to the image of Jupiter hem fent.
And ſaid, Who fo wol nought do facrifice
Swap of his hed; this is my fentence here.
Anon thiſe martyrs that I you devife
On Maximus, that was an officere
Of the Prefectes, and his Corniculere
Hem hent, and whan he forth the feintes lad
Himſelf he wept for pitee that he had.
Whan Maximus had herd the feintes lore
He gate him of the turmentourcs leve,
And lad hem to his hous withouten more;
And with hir preching or that it were eve
They gonnen fro the turmentours to reve,
And fro Maxime, and fro his folk eche on,
The falfe faith, to trowe in God alone.
Cecilie came, whan it was waxen night,
With preeftes that hem criftened all yfere;
And afterward whan day was waxen light
Cecilie hem faid with a ful ftedfaft chere,
Now, Criftes owen knightes leve and dere,
Cafte all away the werkes of derkeneffe,
And armeth you in armes of brightneffc.
Ye han forfoth ydon a gret bataille;
Your cours is don; your faith hath you conferved;
Goth to the croune of lif that may not faille;
The rightful juge, which that ye han ferved,
Shal yeve it you, as ye han it deſerved.
And whan this thing was faid as I devife
Men ledde hem forth to don the facrifice.
But whan they weren to the place ybrought,
To tellen ſhortly the conclufioun,
They n'olde encenfe ne facrifice right nought,
But on hir knees they fetten hem adoun,
With humble herte and fad devotioun,
And loſten both hir hedes in the place:
Hir foules wenten to the King of grace.
This Maximus, that faw this thing betide,
With pitous teres told it anon right
That he hir foules faw to heven glide
With angels, ful of clereneſſe and of light,
And with his word converted many a wight,
For which Almachius did him to-bete
With whip of led til he his lif gan lete.
Cecile him toke and buried him anon
By Tiburce and Valerian foftely,
Within hir burying place, under the ftop;
And after this Almachius haftily
Bad his miniftres fetchen openly
VOL. I.
Cecile, ſo that ſhe might in his prefence
Dọn facrifice, and Jupiter encenſe.
But they, converted at hire wife lore,
Vepten ful fore, and yaven ful credence
Unto hire word, and crieden more and more
Crift, Goddes fone, withouten difference,
Is veray God, this is all our fentence,
That hath ſo good a fervant him to ferve :
Thus with o vois we trowen though we fterve
Almachius, that herd of this doing,
Bad fetchen Cecile, that he might hire fee :
And alderfirſt, lo, this was his axing;
What maner woman art thou? quod he.
I am a gentilwoman borne, quod fhe.
I axe thee, quod he, though it thee greve,
Of thy religion and of thy beleve.
Why than began your queſtion folily,
Quod fhe, that woldeft two anfwers conclude
In o demand? Ye axen lewedly.
Almache anſwered to that fimilitude,
Of whennes cometh thin answering ſo rude?
Of wheanes? (quod fhe, whan that ſhe was friened)
Of conſcience, and of good faith unfeined.
Almachius faid; Ne takeft thou non hede
Of my power? And fhe him anſwerd this;
Your might (quod fhe) ful litel is to drede,
For every mortal mames power n'is
But like a bladder ful of wind ywis,
For with a nedles point whan it is blow
May all the boſt of it be laid ful low.
Ful wrongfully begonneft thou, (quod he)
And yet in wrong is all thy perfeverance:
Woft thou not how our mighty princes free
Have thus commanded and made ordinance
That every Criften wight ſhal han penance
But if that he his Cristendome withfeye,
And gon
al quite if he wol it reneye?
Your princes erren, as your nobley doth,
Quod tho Cecile, and with a wood fentence
Ye make us gilty, and it is not ſoth;
For ye, that knowen wel our innocence,
For as moche as we don ay reverence
To Crift, and for we bere a Criften name,
Ye put on us a crime and eke a blame.
But we, that knowen thilke name fo
For vertuous, we may it not withfeye.
Almache anſwered; Chefe on of thiſe two,
Do facrifice, or Cristendom reneye,
That thou mow now efcapen by that wey.
At which this holy blisful fayre maid
Gan for to laughe, and to the juge faid;
O juge! confufe in thy nicetee,
Woldeft thou that I reneye innocence?
To maken me a wicked wight (quod fhe)
Lo, he diffimuleth here in audience,
He ftareth and wodeth in his advertence.
To whom Almachius faid, Unfely wretch!
Ne woft thou not how far my might may stretch?
Han not our mighty princes to me yeven
Ya bothe power and eke auctoritee
To maken folk to dein or to liven?
Why ſpekeft thou fo proudly than to me?
I ne fpeke nought but stedfastly, quod fufa
*
F
162
THE SECOND NONNES TALE.
Not proudely, for I fay, as for my fide
We haten dedly thilke vice of pride.
And if thou drede not a foth for to here
Than wol I fhewe al openly by right
That thou haft made a ful gret lefing here.
Thou faiſt thy princes han thee yeven might
Both for to flee and for to quicken a wight.
Thou that ne maift but only lif bereve
Thou hast non other power ne no leve.
But thou maiſt ſayn thy princes han thee maked
Miniftre of Deth, for if thou fpeke of mo
Thou lieft, for thy power is ful naked.
Do way thy boldneffe, faid Almachius tho,
And facrifice to our goddes er thou go.
I recke not what wrong that thou me proffre,
For I can fuffre it as a philofophre.
But thilke wronges may I not endure
That thou ſpekeſt of our goddes here, quod he.
Cecile anfwerd; O nice creature!
Thou faideft no word fin thou ſpake to me
'That I ne knew therwith thy nicetee,
And that thou were in every maner wife
A lewed officer, a vain juſtice.
Ther lacketh nothing to thin utter eyen
Home til hire hous, and in hire hous (quod he)
Brenne hire right in a bath with flames rede.
And as he bade right fo was don the dede,
For in a bathe they gonne hire fafte fhetten,
And night and day gret fire they under betten.
The longe night, and eke a day alſo,
For all the fire, and eke the bathes hete,
She fate al cold, and felt of it no wo;
It made hire not a drope for to ſwete;
But in that bath hire lif fhe mufte lete,
For he Almache with a ful wicke entent
To fleen hire in the bath his fonde fent.
Three ftrokes in the nekke he fmote hire tho
The turmentour, but for no maner chance
He mighte not fmite all hire nekke atwo:
And for ther was that time an ordinance
That no man fhulde don man ſwiche penance
The fourthe ftroke to fmiten ſoft or fore,
This turmentour ne dorfte do no more;
But half ded, with hire nekke ycorven ther
He left hire lie, and on his way is went :
The Criften folk which that about hire were
With ſhetes han the blood ful faire yhent ;
Three dayes lived the in this turment,
That thou n'art blind; for thing that we ſeen alle, And never cefed hem the faith to teche,
That is a fton, that men may wel efpien,
That ilke fton a god thou wolt it calle :
I rede thee let thin hond upon it falle,
And taft it wel, and fton thou fhalt it find,
Sin that thou ſeeft not with thin eyen blind,
It is a fhame that the peple fhal
So fcornen thee, and laugh at thy folie,
For comunly men wot it wel over al
That mighty God is in his hevens hie;
And thile images, wel maiſt thou efpie,
To thee ne to nemfelf may not profite,
For in effect they be not worth a mite.
Thife and iwiche other wordes faid fhe,
That ſhe had foftred hem fhe gan to preche.
And hem the yaf hire mebles and hire thing,
And to the Pope Urban betoke hem tho,
And ſaid, I axed this of heven King
To have refpit three dayes and no mo,
To recommend to you or that I go
Thiſe foules, lo, and that I might do werche
Here of min houſe perpetuellich a cherce.
Seint Urban with his dekenes prively
The body fette, and buried it by night
Among his other feintes honeftly.
Hire hous The Cherche of Seint Cecile hight;
Seint Urban halowed it as he wel might,
And he wex wroth, and bade men fhulde hire lede In which unto this day in noble wife
I
Men don to Crift and to his feinte fervife.
LA
THE CHANONES YEMANNES PROLOGUE.
163
THE CHANONES YEMANNES PROLOGUE.
WHAN that tolde was the lif of Seinte Cecile,
Er we had ridden fully five mile,
At Boughton-under-Blee us gan atake
A man that clothed was in clothes blake,
And undernethe he wered a white furplis.
His hakeney, which that was al pomelee gris,
So fwatte that it wonder was to fee;
It femed as he had priked miles three.
The horfe eke that his Yeman rode upon
So fwatte that unnethes might he gon :
About the peytrel ſtood the fome ful hie;
He was of fome as flecked as a pie.
A male tweifold on his croper lay,
It femed that he caried litel array;
Al light for fommer rode this worthy man.
And in my herte wondren I began
What that he was, til that I underftode
How that his cloke was fowed to his hode,
For which whan I had long avifed me
I demed him fome chanon for to be.
His hat heng at his back doun by a las,
For he had ridden more than trot or pas;
He had ay priked like as he were wode.
A lote lefe he had laid under his hode
For fwete, and for to kepe his hed fro hete;
But it was joye for to feen him ſwete;
His forehed dropped as a ftillatorie
Were ful of plantaine or of paritorie.
And whan that he was come he gan to crie,
God fave (quod he) this joly compagnie!
Faft have I priked (quod he) for your fake,
Becauſe that I wolde you atake,
To riden in this mery compagnie.
His Yeman was eke ful of curtefie,
And ſaide, Sires, now in the morwe tide
Out of your hoftelrie I faw you ride,
And warned here my lord and foverain,
Which that to riden with you is ful fain
For his difport; he loveth daliance.
Frend, for thy warning God yeve the good chance.
Than faid our Hofte: certain it wolde feme
Thy lord were wife, and fo I may wel deme;
He is ful joconde alfo dare I leye :
Can he ought tell a mery tale or tweie,
With which he gladen may this compagnie ?
Who, Sire? my lord? Ye, Sire, withouten lie,
He can of mirth and eke of jolitee
Not but ynough; alfo, Sire, trufteth me
And ye him knew al fo wel as do I
Ye wolden wondre how wel and craftily
He coude werke, and that in fondry wife :
He hath take on him many a gret empriſe,
Which were ful harde for any that is here
To bring about but they of him it lere.
As homely as he rideth amonges you
If ye him knew it wold be for your prow:
Ye wolden not forgon his acquaintance
For mochel good, I dare lay in balance
All that I have in my poffeffion.
He is a man of high difcreffion;
I warne you wel he is a paffing man.
Wel, quod our Hofte, I pray thee tell me than
Is he a clerk or non? Tell what he is.
fhere.
me,
Nay, he is greter than a clerk ywis,
Saide this Yeman, and in wordes fewe,
Hofte, of his craft fomwhat I wol you
I fay my lord can fwiche a fubtiltee,
(But all his craft ye moun not wete of
And fomwhat help I yet to his werking)
That all the ground on which we ben riding,
Til that we come to Canterbury toun,
He coud al clene turnen up fo doun,
And pave it all of filver and of gold.
And whan this Yeman had this tale ytolde
Unto our Hofte, he faid Benedicite!
This thing is wonder mervaillous to me,
Sin that thy lord is of fo high prudence,
Becauſe of which men fhulde him reverence,
That of his worſhip rekketh he ſo lite;
His overeft floppe it is not worth a mite,
As in effect, to him, fo mote I go;
It is all baudy and to-tore alſo,
Why is thy lord fo fluttish I thee preye,
And is of power better cloth to beye,
If that his dede acorded with thy fpeche!
Telle me that, and that I thee befeche.
Why? quod this Yeman, wherto axe ye me?
God helpe me fo, for he fhal never the ;
(But I wol not avowen that I ſay,
And therfore kepe it fecree I you pray)
He is to wife in faith, as I beleve:
Thing that is overdon it wol not preve
Aright, as clerkes fain; it is a vice ;.
Wherfore in that I hold him lewed and nice;
For whan a man hath overgret a wit
Ful oft him happeth to mifufen it a
Lij
164
YEMANNES PROLOGUE.
THE CHANONES
So doth my lord, and that me greveth fore:
God it amende; I can fay now no more
Therof no force, good Yeman, quod our Hoft;
Sin of the conning of thy lord thou woſt
Telle how he doth, I pray thee hertily,
Sin that he is fo crafty and fo fly.
Wher dwellen ye, if it to tellen be?
In the fubarbes of a toun, quod he,
Lurking in hernes and in lanes blinde,
Wheras thiſe robbours and thiſe theves by kinde
Holden hir privee fereful refidence,
As they that dare not fhewen hir preſence;
So faren we, if I fhal fay the fothe.
Yet, quod our Hofte, let me talken to the;
Why art thou fo difcoloured of thy face?
Peter, quod he, God yeve it harde grace;
I am fo ufed the hote fire to blow
That it hath changed my colour I trow :
I n'am not wont in no mirrour to prie,
But fwinke fore, and lerne to multiplie.
We blundren ever and poren in the fire,
And for all that we faille of our defire;
For ever we lacken our conclufion.
To mochel folk we don illuſion,
And borwe gold be it a pound or two,
Or ten or twelve, or many fommes mo,
And make hem wenen at the lefte
wey
'That of a pound we connen maken twey;
Yet it is falle; and ay we han good hope
It for to don, and after it we grope ;
But that fcience is fo fer us beforne,
We mowen not, although we had it fworne,
It overtake, it flit away fo faft;
It wol us maken beggers at the laſt.
While this Yeman was thus in his talking
This chanon drow him nere and herd all thing
Which this Yeman fpake, for fufpecion
Of mennes fpeche ever had this chanon;
For Caton fayth, that he that gilty is
Demeth all thing be ſpoken of him ywis :
That was the caufe he gan fo nigh him drawe
To his Yeman, to herken all his fawe;
And thus he faide unto his Yemain tho:
Hold thou thy pees, and fpeke no wordes mo,
For if thou do thou fhalt it dere abie:
Thou fclaundreft me here in this compagnie,
And eke difcovereft that thou fhuldeft hide.
Ye, quod our Hofte, tell on, what ſo betide;
Of all his thretening recke not a mite.
In faith, quod he, no more I do but lite.
And whan this chanon faw it wold not be
But his Yeman wold tell his privetee,
He fled away for veray forwe and fhame.
A! quod the Yeman, here fhal rife a game :
All that I can anon I wol you telle,
Sin he is gon: the foule fend him quelle,
For never hereafter wol I with him mete
For peny ne for pound, I you behete.
He that me broughte firft unto that game,
Er that he die forwe have he and ſhame,
For it is erneft to me by my faith;
That fele I wel, what that any man faith
And yet
for all my fmcrt and all my grief,
For all my forwe, labour, and mefchief,
I coude never leve it in no wife.
Now wolde God my wit mighte fuffice
To tellen all that longeth to that art;
But natheles yet wol I tellen part :
Sin that my lord is gon I wol not ſpare;
Swiche thing as that I know I wol declare.
THE CHANONES YEMANNES TALE*.
WITH this chanon I dwelt have ſeven yere,
And of his ſcience am I never the nere;
All that I had I have ylott therby,
And God wot fo han many mo than I.
Ther I was wont to be right freſh and gay
Of clothing, and of other good array;
Now may Iwere an hofe upón min hed;
And wher my colour was both freſh and red
Now is it wan and of a leden hewe;
(Who fo it uſeth fo fhal he it rewe)
* A pricft of London, more covetous than wife, is de-
ceived by a chagun profefling the art of alchymyc. Urry,
And of my fwinke yet blered is min eye;
Lo which avantage is to multiplie!
That fliding ſcience hath me made fo bare
That I have no good wher that ever I fare;
And yet I ani endetted fo therby,
Of gold that I have borwed trewely,
That while I live I fhal it quiten never;
Let every man beware by me for ever.
What maner man that cafteth him therto,
If he continue, I hold his thrift ydo;
So helpe me God, therby fhal he nat winne,
But empte his purſe, and make his wittes thinne.
THE CHANONES
165
YEMANNES TALE.
And whan he thurgh his madneffe and folie,
Hath loft his owen good thurgh jupartie,
Than he exciteth other folk therto,
To lefe hir good as he himſelf hath do,
For unto fhrewes joye it is and efe
To have hir felawes in peine and difefe..
Thus was I ones lerned of a clerk.
Of that no charge; I wel fpeke of our werk.
Whan we be ther as we fhuln exerciſe
Our elvish craft we femen wonder wife,
Our ternies ben fo clergial and queinte.
I blow the fire til that myn herte feinţe.
What fhuld I tellen eche proportion
Of thinges whiche that we werchen upon,
As on five or fix unces, may wel be,
Of ſilver, or ſom other quantitee?
And befie me to tellen you the names,
As orpiment, brent bones, yren fquares,
That into poudre grounden ben ful ſmal?
And in an erthen pot how put is al,
And falt yput in and alfo pepere,
Beforn thife poudres that I fpeke of here,
And wel ycovered with a lampe of glas?
And of moche other thing which that ther was?
And of the pottes and glaffes engluting,
That of the aire might paſſen out no thing?
And of the efy fire, and fmert alſo,
Which that was made? and of the care and wo
That we had in our materes fubliming,
And in amalgaming and calcening
Of quickfilver, ycleped Mercurie crude?
For all our fleightes we can not conclude.
Our orpiment and fublimed mercurie,
Our grounden litarge eke on the porphurie,
Of cche of thife of unces a certain
Not helpeth us; our labour is in vain.
Ne, neyther our fpirites afcentioun,
Ne our materes that lien al fix adoun,
Mown in our werking nothing us availle,
For loft is all our labour and travaille,
And all the coft a twenty devil way
1. loſt alſo which we upon it lay,
Ther is alſo ful many another thing
That is unto our craft apperteining,
Though I by ordre hem nat reherfen can,
Becauſe that I am a lewed man,
Yet wol I telle hem as they come to minde,
Though I ne cannot fet hem in hir kinde,
As bole armoniak, verdegrefe, boras,
And fondry veffels made of erthe and glas,
Our urinales, and our defcenfories,
Viols, croflettes and fublimatories,
Cucurbites and alembikes eke,
And other ſwiche ger, dere ynough a leke,
What nedeth it for to reherſe hem alle?
Wateres rubifying, and bolles galle,
Arfenik, fal armoniak, and brimfton,
And herbes coude I tell eke many on,
As egremoine, valerian, and lunarie,
And other fwiche, if that me lift to tarie,
Our lampes brenning bothe night and day;
To bring about our craft if that we may,
Our fourneis cke of calcination,
And of wateres albification,
Unflekked lime, chalk, and gleire of aney,
Poudres divers, afhes, dong, piffe, and cley,
Sered pokettes, fal peter, and vitriole,
And divers fires made of wode and cole,
Sal tartre, alcaly, and falt preparat,
And combuft materes and coagulat,
Cley made with hors and mannes here, and oile
Of tartre, alum, glas, berme, wort, and argoile,
Rofalgar, and other materes enbibing,
And eke of our niateres encorporing,
And of our filver citrination,
Our cementing and fermentation,
Our ingottes, teftes, and many thinges mo?
I wol you tell as was me taught allo
The foure fpirites and the bodies fevene
By ordre, as oft I herd my lord hem nevene,
The firfte fpirit Quickfilver cleped is,
The fecond Orpiment, the thridde ywis
Sal Armoniak, and the fourth Brimfton.
The bodies fevene cke, lo hem here anon :
Sol gold is, and Lura filver we threpe,
Mars iren, Mercurie quickfilver we clepe,
Saturnus led, and Jupiter is tin,
And Venus coper, by my fader kin.
This curfed craft who fo wol exercife
He fhal no good have that him may fuffice,
For all the good he ſpendeth theraboute
He lefen firal, therof have I no doute.
Who fo that lifteth uttren his folie
Let him come forth and lernen multiplie;
And every man that hath ought in his cofre
Let him appere and wex o philofophre,
Afcaunce that craft is fo light to lere.
Nay, nay, God wot al be he monk or frere,
Precft or chanon, or any other wight,
Though he fit at his book both day and night
In lerning of this elvish nice lore
All is in vain, and parde mochel more
To lerne a lewed man this fubtiltee.
Fie! fpeke not therof, for it wol not be :
And conne he letterure, or conne he non
As in effect he ſhal finde it all on,
For bothe by two my falvation
Concluden in multiplication
Ylike wel whan they have al ydo ;
This is to fain, they faillen bothe two.
Yet forgate I to maken rcherfaile
Of waters corofif and of limaile,
And of bodies molification,
And alfo of hir induration,
Oiles, ablufions, metal fufible;
To tellen all wold paffen any Bible
That o wher is; wherfore as for the best
Of all thiſe names now wol I me reft;
For as I trow I have you told ynow
To reife a fend, al loke he never fo row.
A nay, let be; the philofophres fton,
Elixer cleped, we feken faft eche on,
For had we him than were we fiker ynow;
But unto God of heven I make avow,
For all our craft, whan we han all ydo,
And all our fleight, he wol not come us to
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166
TALE.
THE CHANONES
CHANONES
YEMANNES
He hath ymade us fpenden mochel good,
For forwe of which almoft we waxen wood,
But that good hope crepeth in our herte,
Suppofing ever, though we fore finerte,
To ben releved of him afterward:
Swiche ſuppoſing and hope is fharp and hard :
I warne you wel it is to feken ever:
That future temps hath made men diſſever
In truft therof from all that ever they had,
Yet of that art they conne not waxen fad,
For unto hem it is a bitter fwete:
So femeth it, for ne had they but a fhete
Which that they might wrappen hem in a-night,
And a bratt to walken in by day-light,
They wold hem fell, and ſpend it on this craft :
They conne not ſtinten til no thing be laft ;
And evermore, wher ever that they gon,
Men may hem kennen by fmell of brimſton :
For all the world they ftinken as a gote;
Hir favour is fo rammiſh and ſo hote
That though a man a mile from hem be
The favour wol enfect him, trufteth me.
Lo, thus by ſmelling and thred-bare array
if that men lift this folk they knowen may;
And if a man wol axe hem prively
Why they be clothed fo unthriftily,
They right anon wol rounen in his ere,
And faien, if that they eſpied were
Men wolde hem fle becaufe of hir fcience.
Lo, thus thiſe folk betraien innocence.
Faffe over this; I go my Tale unto.
Er that the pot be on the fire ydo,
Of metals with a certain quantitçe
My lord hem tempereth, and no man but he,
(Now he is gon I dare fay boldely)
For as men fain he can don craftily,
Algate I wote wel he hath fwiche a name,
And yet ful oft he renneth in a blame;
And wete ye how? ful oft it falleth fo
The pot to-brcketh, and farewel! all is go.
Thife metales ben of fo gret violence
Our walles may not make hem refiſtence,
But if they weren wrought of lime and fton;
They percen fo that thurgh the wall they gon,
And fom of hem finke doun into the ground,
(Thus have we loft by times many a pound)
And fom are fcatered all the flore aboute,
Som lepen into the roof withouten doute.
Though that they fend not in our fight him fhewe
I trow that he be with us, thilke fhrewe
In helle, wher that he is lord and fire,
Ne is ther no more, rancour, ne ire.
Whan that our pot is broke, as I have fayde,
Every man chit, and holt him evil apayde :
Som fayd it was long on the fire-making,
Som fayd nay, it was long on the blowing;
(Than was I ferd, for that was min office)
Straw! quod the thridde, ye ben lewed and nice;
It was not tempred as it oughte to be;
Nay, quod the fourthe, ftinte and herken me;
Becauſe our fire was not made of beche
'That is the cauſe, and other non, fo the iche.
I can not tell wheron it was along,
But wel I wot gret ftrif is us among.
What? quod my lord, ther n'is no more to don;
Of thiſe perils I wol beware eftſone;
;
I am right fiker that the pot was crafed.
Be as be may be ye no thing amaſed
As ufage is let fwepe the flore as ſwithe;
Plucke up your hertes, and be glad and blithe.
The mullek on an hepe yfweped was,
And on the flore ycaft a canevas,
And all this mullok in a five ythrowe,
And fifted, and ypicked many a throwe,
Parde, quod on, fomwhat of our metall
Yet is ther here, though that we have not all;
And though this thing miſhaped hath as now
Another time it may be wel ynow.
We moften put our good in aventure;
A marchant par de may not ay endure,
Truſteth me wel, in his profperitee;
Somtime his good is drenched in the fee,
And fomtime cometh it fauf unto the lond.
Pees, quod my lord, the next time I wol fond
To bring our craft all in another plite,
And but I do, Sires, let me have the wite:
Ther was defaute in fomewhat wel I wote.
Another fayd the fire was over hote:
But be it hote or cold I dare fay this,
That we concluden evermore amis;
We faille alway of that which we wold have,
And in our madneffe evermore we rave,
And whan we be together everich on
Every man femeth a Salomon.
But all thing which that ſhineth as the gold
Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told,
Ne every apple that is faire at eye
Ne is not good, what fo men clap or crie.
Right fo, lo, fareth it amonges us;
He that femeth the wifeft, by Jefus
Is moft fool whan it cometh to the prefe,
And he that femeth trueft is a thefe:
That fhal ye know or that I from you wende,
By that I of my Tale have made an ende.
Ther was a chanon of religioun
Amonges us wold enfet all a toun,
Though it as gret were as was Ninive,
Ronie, Alifaundre, Troie, or other three.
His fleightes and his infinite falfeneffe
Ther coude no man writen, as I geffe,
Though that he mighte live a thouſand yere :
In all this world of falfeneffe n'is his pere,
For in his termes he wol him fo winde,
And fpeke his wordes in fo flic a kinde,
Whan he comunen fhal with any wight,
That he wol make him doten anon right
But it a fend he, as himſelven is.
Ful many a man hath he begiled er this,
And wol, if that he
may live
live any while
And yet men gon and riden many a mile
Him for to feke, and have his acquaintance,
Not knowing of his falfe governance;
And if you luft to yeve me audience
I wol it tellen here in your prefence.
But, worshipful chanons religious,
Ne demeth not that I fclander your hous,
Although that my Tale of a chanon be :
Of every order fom fhrew is parde
THE CHANONES YEMANNES TALE.
167
And God forbede that all a compagnie
Shuld rewe a finguler mannes folie.
To fclander you is no thing min entent,
But to correcten that is mis I ment.
This Tale was not only told for you
But eke for other mo: ye wot wel how
That among Criftes apofteles twelve
Ther was no traitour but Judas himſelve;
Than why fhuld al the remenant have blame,
That giltles were? By you I fay the fame;
Save only this, if ye wol herken me,
If any Judas in your covent be
Remeveth him betimes I you rede,
If fhame or los may caufen any drede;
And be no thing difplefed I you pray,
But in this cas herkeneth what I ſay.
In London was a preeſt, an annuellere
That therin dwelled hadde many a yere,
Which was fo plefant and fo ferviſable
Unto the wif ther as he was at table,
That ſhe wold fuffer him no thing to pay
For borde ne clothing, went he never fo gay;
And ſpending filver had he right ynow:
Therof no force; I wol proceed as now,
And tellen forth my Tale of the chanon
That broughte this preeft to confuſion.
This falfe chanon came upon a day
Unto the preeftes chambre ther he lay,
Befeching him to lene him a certain
Of gold, and he wold quite it him again.
Lene me a marke, quod he, but dayes three,
And at my day I wol it quiten thee;
And if it fo be that thou finde me falfe
Another day hang me up by the halfe.
How I can werken in philofophie :
Taketh good heed, ye fhuln wel fen at eye
That I wol do a maiſtrie or I go.
Ye, quod the preeft; ye, Sire, and wol ye
Mary, therof I pray you hertily.
At your commandement, Sire, trewely,
Quod the chanon, and elles God forbede.
Lo, how this thefe coude his ſervice bede
Ful foth it is that fwiche profered fervice
Stinketh, as witneffen thiſe olde wife,
And that ful fone I wol it verifie
fo?
In this chanon, rote of all trecherie,
That evermore delight hath and gladneſſe
(Swiche fendly thoughtes in his herte empreffe)
How Criftes peple he may to mefchief bring:
God kepe us from his falſe diffimuling!
Nought wiſte this preeft with whom that he delt,
Ne of his harme coming nothing he felt.
O fely preeft o fely innocent!
With covetife anon thou fhalt be blent;
O graceles! ful blind is thy conceite,
For nothing art thou ware of the difceite
Which that this fox yfhapen hath to thee;
His wily wenches thou ne mayft not flee :
Wherfore to go to the conclufion,
That referreth to thy confuſion,
Unhappy man! anon I wol me hie
To tellen thin unwit and thy folie,
And eke the falfeneffe of that other wretch,
As ferforth as that my conning will ſtretch.
This chanon was my lord, ye wolden wene;
Sire Hofte, in faith, and by the heven quene,
It was another chanon, and not he
That can an hundred part more fubtiltee:
This preeft him toke a marke, and that as fwith, He hath betraied folkes many a time;
And this chanon him thanked often fith,
And toke his leve, and wente forth his wey;
And at the thridde day brought his money,
And to the preeft he toke his gold again,
Wherof this preeft was wonder glad and fain.
Certes, quod he, nothing anoieth me
To lene a man a noble, or two, or three,
Or what a thing were in my poffeffion,
Of his falfeneffe it dulleth me to rime:
Ever whan that I fpeke of his falfhede
For fhame of him my chekes waxen rede,
Algates they beginnen for to glowe,
For redeneffe have I non, right wel I knowe,
In my vifage, for fumes diverfe
Whan he fo trewe is of condition
That in no wife he breken wol his day;
To ſwiche a man I can never ſay nay.
What? quod this chanon, fhuld I be untrewe?
Nay, that were thing fallen al of the newe:
Trouth is a thing that I wol ever kepe
Unto the day in which that I fhal crepe
Into my grave, and elles God forbede!
Beleveth this as fiker as your crede,
God thanke I, and in good time be it fayde,
That ther n'as never man yet evil apayde
For gold ne filver that he to me lent,
Ne never falfhede in min herte I ment.
And, Sire, (quod he) now of my privetec,
Sin ye fo goodlich have ben unto me,
And kithed to me fo gret gentilleffe,
Somwhat to quiten with your kindeneffe
I wol you fhewe, and if you luft to lere
I wol you techen pleinly the manere
* They were called annuelleres, not from their receiv
ing a yearly ttipend, as the Gloff, explains it, but from
their being employed folely in tinging annuals or anniver-
fary maffes for the dead, without any cure of fouls.
Of metals which ye have herd me reherfe
Confumed han and wafted my redneffe.
Now take hede of this chanons curfedneſſe.
Sire, quod the chanon, let your yeman goû
For quikſilver, that we it had anon,
And let him bringen unces two or three,
And whan he cometh as fafte fhul Je fee
A wonder thing, which ye faw never er this.
Sire, quod the preeft, it fhal be don ywis.
He bad his fervant fetchen him this thing,
And he al redy was at his bidding,
And went him forth, and came anon again
With this quiksilver, fhortly for to fain,
And toke thiſe unces three to the chanoun,
And he hem laide wel and faire adoun,
And bad the fervant coles for to bring,
That he anon might go to his werking.
The coles right anon weren yfet,
And this chanon toke out a croffelet
Of his bofome, and fhewed it to the preeft.
This inftrument, quod he, which that thou feeft
Take in thyn hond, and put thyfelf therin
Of this quikſilver an unce, and here begin
In the name of Crift to wex a philofophre :
Ther be ful fewe which that I wolde protre
Liiij
THE CHANONES YEMANNES TALE
!
To fhewen hem thus muche of my fcience;
For here fhul ye fee by experience
That this quikſilver I wol mortifie
Right in your fight anon withouten lie,
And make it as good filver and as fine
As ther is any in your purſe or mine
Ör elles wher, and make it malliable,
And elles holdeth me falfe and unable
Amonges folk for ever to appere.
I have a prouder here, that coft me dere,
Shal make all good, for it is caufe of all
My conning which that I you fſhewen fhall.
Voideth your man, and let him be therout,
And fhet the dore, while we ben about
Our privitee, that no man us efpie
While that we werke in this philofophie.
All as he bade fulfilled was in dede:
This ilke fervant anon right out yede,
And his maifter fhette the dore anon,
And to hir labour fpedily they gon.
This preeft at this curfed chanons bidding
Upon the fire anon he fet this thing,
And blew the fire, and befied him ful faft;
And this chanon into the croffelet caſt
A pouder, n'ot I never wherof it was
Ymade, other of chalk, other of glas,
Or fomwhat elles, was not worth a flie,
To blinden with this preeft, and bade him hie
The coles for to couchen all above
The croffelet, for in tokening I thee love
(Quod this chanon) thine owen hondes two
Shal werken all thing which that here is do.
Grand mercy, quod the preeft, and was ful glad,
And couched the coles as the chanon bad;
And while he befy was this fendly wretch,
This falfe chanon, (the foule fend him fetch)
Out of his bofom toke a bechen cole,
In which ful fubtilly was made an hole,
And therin put was of filver limaile
An uncc, and ſtopped was withouten faile
The hole with wax to keep the limaile in.
And underſtandeth that this falſe gin
Was not made ther, bur it was made before;
And other thinges I fhall tell you more
Hereafterward which that he with him brought;
Er he came ther him to begile he thought,
And fo he did or that they went atwin;
Til he had torned him coud he not blin.
It dulleth me whan that I of him fpeke;
On his falfhede fain wold I me awreke
If I wift how; but he is here and ther :
He is fo variaunt he abit no wher.
But taketh hede, Sires, now, for Goddes love.
He toke his cole, of which I fpake above,
And in his hond he bare it prively,
And whiles the preeft couched befily
The coles, as I tolde you er this,
This Chanon fayde; Frend, ye don amis;
This is not couched as it ought to be,
But fone I ſhal amenden it, quod he.
Now let me meddle therwith but a while,
For of you have I pitee by Seint Gile.
Ye ben right hot; I fee wel how ye fwete;
Have here a cloth and wipe away the wete:
And whiles that the preeft wiped his face
This chanon toke his cole with fory grace,
4
And laied it above on the midward
Of the croffelet, and blew wel afterward,
Til that the coles gonnen faft to bren.
Now yeve us drinke, quod this chanon, then,
As fwithe all fhall be wel I undertake :
Sitte we doun, and let us mery make.
And whanne that this chanones bechen cole
Wes brent all the limaile out of the hole
Into the croffelet anon fell adoun ;
And fo it mufte nedes by refoun,
Sin it above ſo even couched was,
But therof wift the preeſt nothing, alas!
He demed all the coles ylike good,
For of the fleight he nothing underſtood.
And whan this alkymiftre faw his time,
Rifeth up, Sire Precft, quod he, and ftondeth by me,
And for I wote wel ingot have ye non,
Goth, walketh forth, and bringeth a chalk fton,
For I wol make it of the fame fhap
That is an ingot, if I may have hap:
Bring eke with you a bolle or elles a panne
Ful of water, and ye fhul wel fee thanne
How that our befineffe fhal thrive and preve:
And yet, for ye fhul have no mifbeleve
Ne wrong conceit of me in your abfence,
I ne wol not ben out of your prefence,
But go with you, and come with you again.
The chambre door, fhortly for to fain,
They opened and fhet, and went hir wey,
And forth with hem they caried the key,
And camen again withouten any delay.
What fhuld I tarien all the longe day
He toke the chalk, and ſhope it in the wife
Of an ingot, as I fhal you devife;
I fay he toke out of his owen fleve
A teine of filver (yvel mote he chevc)
Which that ne was but a juft unce of weight:
And taketh heed now of his curfed fleight;
He ſhop his ingot in length and in brede
Of thilke teine, withouten any drede,
So flily that the preeſt it not eſpide,
And in his fleve again he gan it hide,
And from the fire he toke up his matere,
And in the ingot it put with mery chere,
And in the water-veffel he it caft
Whan that him lift, and bad the preeft as faft
Loke what ther is; put in thin hond and grope;
Thou shalt ther finden filver, as I hope.
What, divel of helle! fhuld it elles be?
Shaving of filver, filver is parde. Zai
He put his hond in and toke up a teine
Of filver fine, and glad in every veine
Was this preeft whan he ſaw that it was fo.
Goddes bleffing, and his mothers alfo,
And alle Halwes, have ye, Sire Chanon!
Sayde this preeft, and I hir maliſon,
But and ye vouchefauf to techen me
This noble eraft and this fubtilitee
I wol be your in alle that ever I may.
Quod the chanon, Yet wol I make aſſay
The fecond time, that ye mow taken hede,
And ben expert of this, and in your nede
Another day affay in min abfence
This difcipline and this crafty fcience.
Let take another unce, quod he tho,
Of quikſilver, without en wordes mo,
THE CHANONES YEMANNES TALE:
169
And do therwith as ye have don er this
With that other which that now filver is.
The preeft him beſieth all that ever he can
To don as this chanon, this curfed man,
Commandeth him, and faſte blewe the fire
For to come to the effect of his defire;
And this chanon right in the mene while
Al redy was this preeft eft to begile,
And for a countenance in his hond bare
An holow ftikke, (take kepe a. beware)
In the ende of which an unce and no more
Of filver limaile put was, as before
Was in his cole, and ſtopped with wax wel
For to kepe in his limaile every del;
And while this preeſt was in his beſineſſe
This chanon with his ſtikke gan him dreſſe
To him anon, and his pouder caſt in
As he did erft, (the devil out of his ſkin
Him torne, I pray to God, for his falihede,
For he was ever falfe in thought and dede)
And with his ſtikke above the croffelet,
That was ordained with that falſe get,
He firreth the coles til relenten gan
The wax again the fire, as every man
But he a fool be wote wel it mote nede,
And all that in the ftikke was out yede,
And in the croffelet hastily it fell.
Now, goode Sires, what wol ye bet than wel?
Whan that this preeft was thus begiled again,
Suppofing nought but trouthe, foth to fain,
He was fo glad that I can not exprcffe
In no manere his mirth and his gladneſſe,
And to the chanon he profcred eftfone
Body and goed. Ye, quod the chanon, fone,
Though poure I be, crafty thou fhalt me finde:
I warne thee wel yet is ther mor behinde.
Is ther any coper here within? fayd he?
Ye, Sire, quod the preeft, I trow ther be.
Elles go beie us fom, and that as ſwithe.
Now, goode Sire, go forth thy way and hie the.
He went his way, and with the coper he came
And this chanon it in his hondes name,
And of that coper weyed out an unce.
To fimple is my tonge to pronounce,
As miniſter of my wit, the doubleneſſe
Of this chanon, rote of all curſedneſſe :
He femed frendly to hem that knew him nought,
But he was fendly both in werk and thought.
It werieth me to tell of his falfeneffe,
And natheles yet wol I it expreffe,
To that entent men may beware therby,
And for non other cauſe trewely.
He put this coper into the croffelet,
And on the fire as fwithe he hath it ſet,
(Unweting this preeft of his falfe craft)
And in the pannes bottom he it laſt,
And in the water rombleth to and fro,
And wonder prively toke up alfo
The coper teine, (not knowing thilke preeſt)
And hid it, and him hente by the breit,
And to him fpake, and thus faid in his game;
Stoupeth adoun; by God ye be to blame;
Helpeth me now, as I did you whilere;
Put in your hond, and loketh what is there.
This preeft toke up this filver teine anon;
And thanne faid the chanon, Let us gon
With thiſe three teines which that we han wrought
To fom goldfmith, and wete if they ben ought,
For by my faith I n'olde for my hood
But if they weren filver fine and good,
And that as ſwithe wel preved ſhal it be.
Unto the goldfſmith with thiſe teines three
They went anon, and put hem in affay
To fire and hammer: might no man fay nay
But that they weren as hem ought to be.
This foted preeft, who was gladder than he?
Was never brid gladder agains the day,
Ne nightingale in the ſeſon of May
Was never non that lift better to fing,
Ne lady luftier in carolling,
Or for to ſpeke of love and womanhede,
Ne knight in armes don a hardy dede
To ftonden in grace of his lady dere,
Than hadde this preeft this craft for to lere;
And to the chanon thus he fpake and feid:
For the love of God that for us alle deid,
And as I may deferve it unto you,
What ſhal this receit cost? telleth me now.
By our Lady, quod this chanon, it is dere.
I warne you wel that fave I and a frere
In Englelond ther can no man it make.
No force, quod he: now, Sire, for Goddes fake
What fhall I pay? telleth me I you pray.
Ywis, quod he, it is ful dere I fay.
Sire, at o word, if that you lift it have
Ye fhal pay forty pound, fo God me fave;
And n'ere the frendſhip that ye did er this
To me ye fhulden payen more ywis.
This preeft the fum of fourty pound anor
Of nobles fet, and toke hem everich on
To this chanon for this ilke receit.
All his werking n'as but fraud and deceit.
Sire Preeft, he faid, I kepe for to have no loos
Of my craft, for I wold it were kept cloos,
And as ye love me kepeth it fecree,
For if men knewen all my fubtiltee,
By God they wolden have ſo gret envie
To me, becauſe of my philofophie,
And caft in pouder, and made the preeſt to blow, I ſhuld be ded, that were non other way.
And in his werking for to ftoupen low
As he did erft, and all n'as but a jape;
Right as him lift the preeft he made his ape;
And afterward in the ingot he it caſt,
And in the panne put it at the laſt
Of water, and in he put his owen hond:
And in his fleve, as ye beforen hond
Herde me telle, he had a filver teine;
He flily toke it out, this curfed heine,
God it forbede, quod the preeft, what ye ſay:
Yet had I lever ſpenden all the good
Which that I have (and elles were I wood)
Than that ye fhuld fallen in ſwiche mifchefe.
For your goodwill, Sire, have ye right good prefe,
Quod the chanon ; and farewel, grand mercy.
He went his way, and never the preeft him fey
After that day. And whan that this preeft fhold
Maken affay, at fwiche time as he wold,
}
170
THE CHANONES YEMANNES TALE.
Of this receit, farewel! it n'old not be.
Lo, thus bejaped and begiled was he;
Thus maketh he his introduction
To bringen folk to hir deftruction.
Confidereth, Sires, how that in eche eftat
Betwixen men and gold ther is debat,
So ferforth that unnethes is ther non.
This multiplying fo blint many on
That in good faith I trowe that it be
The caufe greteſt of ſwiche ſcarfitee.
Thife philofophṛes fpeke fo miſtily
In this craft that men cannot come therby
For any wit that men have now adayes:
They mow wel chateren as don thiſe jayes,
And in hir termes fet hir luft and peine,
But to hir purpos fhul they never atteine.
A man may lightly lerne, if he have ought,
To multiplie and bring his good to nought.
Lo, fwiche a lucre is in this lufty game
A mannes mirth it wol turne al to grame,
And emptien alſo gret and hevy purſes,
And maken folk for to purchaſen curſes
Of hem that han therto hir good ylent.
O, fy for fhame! they that han be brent,
Alas! can they not flee the fires hete?
Ye that it uſe I rede that ye it lete,
Left ye lefe all; for bet than never is late:
Never to thriven were to long a date:
Though ye proll ay ye fhul it never find;
Ye ben as bold as is Bayard the blind,
That blondercth forth, and peril caſteth non;
He is as bold to renne agains a ſton
As for to go befides in the way:
So faren ye that multiplien I ſay.
If that your eyen cannot ſeen aright
Loketh that youre mind lacke not his fight,
For though ye loke never fo brode, and ſtare,
Ye fhuin not win a mite on that chaffare,
But waſten all that ye may rape and renne.
Withdraw the fire left it to fafte brenne;
Medleth no more with that art I mene,
For if ye don your thrift is gon ful clene :
And right as fwithe I wol you tellen here
What philofophres fain in this matere.
Lo, thus faith Arnolde of the newe toun,
As his Rofarie maketh mentioun ;
He faith right thus, withouten any lie,
Ther may no man Mercurie mortifie
But it be with his brothers knowleching.
Lo, how that he which firfte faid this thing
Of philofophres father was, Hermes;
He faith how that the dragon douteles
Ne dieth not but if that he be flain
With his brother; and this is for to fain
By the dragon Mercury and non other
He underſtood, and Brimstone by his brother,
That out of Sole and Luna were ydrawe.
And therfor, faid he, Take heed to my fawe:
Let no man befie him this art to feche
But if that he the entention and ſpeche
Of philofophres underſtonden can,
And if he do he is a lewed man;
For this fcience and this conning (quod he)
Is of the fecree of fecrees parde.
Alſo ther was a diſciple of Plato
That on a time faid his maifter to,
As his book Senior wol bere witneſſe,
And this was his demand in fothfaftneffe,
Telle me the name of thilke privee fton.
And Plato anfwerd unto him anon;
Take the fton that Titanos men name.
Which is that? quod he. Magnetia is the fame
Saide Plato. Ye, Sire, and is it thus?
This is ignotum per ignotius,
What is magnetia, good Sire, I pray?
It is a water that is made, I fay,
Of the elementes foure, quod Plato.
Tell me the rote, good Sire, quod he tho,
Of that water, if that it be your will.
Nay, nay, quod Plato, certain that I n'ill:
The philofophres were fworne everich on
That they ne fhuld diſcover it unto non,
Ne in no book it write in no manere,
For unto God it is fo lefe and dere
That he wol not that it difcovered be
But wher it liketh to his deitee
Man for to enfpire, and eke for to defende
Whom that him liketh; lo, this is the ende.
Than thus conclude I; fin that God of heven
Ne wol not that the philofophres neven
How that a man fhal come unto this fton,
I rede as for the beſt to let it gon;
For who ſo maketh God his adverſary,
As for to werken any thing in contrary
Of his will, certes never fhal he thrive,
Though that he multiply terme of his live,
And ther a point, for ended is my Tale.
God fend every good man bote of his bale?
:
THE MANCIPLES PROLOGUE.
1/1
THE MANCIPLES PROLOGUE.
WETE ye not wher ftondeth a litel toun
Which that ycleped is Bob-up-and-doun,
Under the Blee in Canterbury way?
Ther gan our hofte to jape and to play,
And fayde; Sires, what? Dun is in the mire;
Is ther no man for praiere ne for hire
That wol awaken our felaw behind?
A thefe him might ful lightly rob and bind:
See how he nappeth, fee, for cockes bones,
As he wold fallen from his hors atones.
Is that a coke of London, with mefchance?
Do him come forth, he knoweth his penance,
For he fhal tell a Tale by my fey,
Although it be not worth a botel hey.
Awake, thou coke, quod he; God yeve the forwe,
What aileth thee to flepen by the morwe?
Haft thou had fleen al night, or art thou dronke?
Or haft thou with fom quene al night yſwonke
So that thou mayst not holden up thin hed?
This coke, that was ful pale and nothing red,
Sayd to our Hofte; So God my foule bleffe,
As ther is falle on me fwiche hevineffe,
N'ot I nat why, that me were lever to flepe
Than the beſt gallon wine that is in Chepe.
Wel, quod the Manciple, if it may don efe
To thee, Sire Coke, and to no wight diſpleſe
Which that hire rideth in this compagnie,
And that our Hofte wol of his curtefie;
I wol as now excufe thee of thy Tale,
For in good faith thy viſage is ful pale:
Thin eyen dafen, fothly as me thinketh,
And wel I wot thy breth ful foure ftinketh,
That fheweth wel thou art not wel difpofed:
Of me certain thou shalt not ben yglofed.
See how he galpeth, lo, this dronken wight,
As though he wold us fwalow anon right!
Hold cloſe thy mouth, man, by thy father kin;
The devil of helle fet his foot therin,
Thy curfed breth enfecten wol us alle :
Fy, flinking fwine! fy, foul mote thee bafalle!
A! taketh heed, Sires, of this luſty man.
Now, fwete Sire! wol ye juſt at the fan?
Therto me thinketh ye be wel yfhape:
I trow that ye have dronken win of ape,
And that is whan men playen with a ftraw.
And with this fpeche the coke waxed all wraw,
And on the Manciple he gan not faſt
For lacke of freche, and doun his hors him caſt,
Wher as he lay til that men him up toke:
This was a faire chivachee of a coke :
Alas that he ne had hold him by his ladel!
And er that he agen were in the fadel
Ther was gret fhoving bothe to and fro
To lift him up, and mochel care and wo,
So unweldy was this fely palled goſt;
And to the Manciple then ſpake our Hoft.
Becauſe that drinke hath domination
Upon this man, by my falvation
I trowe he lewedly wol tell his Tale;
For wer it win or old or moiſty ale
That he hath dronke he ſpeketh in his nofe,
And fnefeth faſt, and eke he hath the poſe;
He alſo hath to don more than ynough
To keep him on his capel out of the flough
And if he felle from of his capel eftfone
Than fhul we alle have ynough to done
In lifting up his hevy dronken cors.
Tell on thy Tale, of him make I no force.
But yet, Manciple, in faith thou art to nice
Thus openly to repreve him of his vice;
Another day he wol paraventure
Recleimen thee, and bring thee to the lure;
I mene he ſpeken wol of fmale thinges,
As for to pinchen at thy rekeninges,
That were not honeſt if it came to prefe.
Quod the Manciple, That were a gret mefchefe;
So might he lightly bring me in the ſnare;
Yet had I lever payen for the mare
Which he writ on than he fhuld with me ftrive:
I wol not wrathen him, ſo mote I thrive:
That that I fpake I fayd it in my bourd
And wete ye what? I have here in my gourd
A draught of win, ye of a ripe grape,
And right anon ye fhul feen a good jape;
This coke fhal drinke therof if that I may;
Up peine of my lif he wol not fay nay.
And certainly, to tellen as it was,
Of this veffell the coke dranke faft, (alas!
What nedeth it? he dranke ynough beforne)
And whan he hadde pouped in his horne
To the Manciple he toke the gourd again;
And of that drinke the coke was wonder fain,
And thonked him in fwiche wife as he coude.
Than gan our Hofte to laughen wonder loude
And fayd; I fee wel it is neceffary
Wher that we gon good drinke with us to cary,
172
THE MANCIPLES PROLOGUE.
For that wol turnen rancour and difefe
To accord and love, and many a wrong apcfe
O Bacchus, Bacchus ! bleffed be thy name,
That fo canft turnen erneft into game;
Worſhip and thonke be to thy deitce.
Of that matere ye get no more of me.
Tale on thy Tale, Manciple, I thee pray,
Wel, Sire, quod he, now herkeneth what I ſay.
THE MANCIPLES TALE *.
WHAN Phebus dwelled here in erth adoun,
As olde bookes maken mentioun,
He was the mofte lufty bacheler
Of all this world, and eke the best archer :
He flow Phiton the ferpent as he lay
Sleping agains the fonne upon a day,
And many another noble worthy dede
He with his bow wrought, as men mowen rede.
Playen be coude on every minſtrakcie,
And fingen that it was a melodie
To heren of his clere vois the foun:
Certes the King of Thebes Amphioun,
That with his finging walled the citee,
Coud never fingen half ſe wel as he.
Therto he was the femelieſte man
That is or was fithen the world began.
'What nedeth it his feture to deſcrive?
For in this world n'is non fo faire on live;
He was therwith fulfilled of gentilleffe,
Of honour, and of parfite worthineffe.
This Phebus, that was floure of bachelerie,
As wel in fredom as in chivalrie,
For his difport, in figne eke of victorie
Of Phiton, ſo as telleth us the ſtorie,
Was wont to beren in his hond a bowe.
Now had this Phebus in his hous a crowe.
Which in a cage he foftred many a day,
And taught it ſpeken, as men teche a jay.
Whit was this crowe, as is a ſnow whit ſwan,
And contrefete the ſpeche of every man
He coude whan he fhulde tell a tale :
Therwith in all this world no nightingale
Ne coude by an hundred thouſand del
Singen fo wonder merily and wel.
Now had this Phebus in his hous a wif
Which that he loved more than his lif,
And night and day did ever his diligence
Hire for to pleſs and don hire reverence;
Save only, if that I the foth fhal fain,
Jelous he was, and world have kept hire fain,
* Phoebus kepeth a white crow which can speak as a jay.
The crow accufeth his wife, of whom he was too jealouſe,
to have played falfe in his abfence; hereupon with an
arrow he flayethhis wife but after repenting of his rafh-
nels he taketh revenge of the crow. Urry.
For him were loth yjaped for to be,
And ſo is every wight in ſwiche degree :
But all for nought, for it availeth nought.
A good wif, that is clene of werk and thought,
Shuld not be kept in non await certain ;
And trewely the labour is in vain
To kepe a fhrewe, for it wol not be.
This hold I for a veray nicetec
To ſpillen labour for to kepen wives;
Thus writen olde clerkes in hir lives.
But now to purpos as I firſt began.
This worthy Phebus doth all that he can
To plefen hire, wening thurgh fwiche plefance,
And for his manhood and his governance,
That no man fhulde put him from hire grace;
But God it wote ther may no man embrace
As to deftreine a thing which that Nature
Hath naturelly fet in a creature.
Take any brid and put it in a cage,
And do all thin entente and thy corage
To fofter it tendrely with mete and drinke
Of alle deintees that thou canst bethinke,
And kepe it al fo clenely as thou may,
Although the cage of gold be never ſo gay,
Yet had this brid by twenty thouſand fold
Lever in a foreft that is wilde and cold
Gon eten wormes and fwiche wretchedneffe:
For ever this brid will don his befineffe
To efcape out of his cage whan that he may :
His libertee the brid defireth ay.
Let take a cat, and fofter hire with milke
And tendre fleſh, and make hire couche of filke,
And let hire fee a mous go by the wall,
Anon fhe weiveth milke and fleſh and all,
And every deintee that is in that hous,
Swiche appetit hath fhe to ete the mous.
Lo, here hath kind hire domination,
And appetit flemeth difcretion.
;
A fhe-wolf hath alſo a vilains kind
The lewedefte wolf that fhe may find,
Or left of reputation, wol fhe take
In time whan hire loft to have a make.
All thife enfamples fpcke I by thiſe men
That ben untrewe, and nothing by women
THE
MANCIPLES TALE.
173
For mea have ever a likerous appetit
On lower thing to parforme hir delit
T'han on hir wives, be they never fo faire,
Ne never ſo trewe, ne ſo debonaire.
Fleſh is fo newefangle, with mefchance,
That we ne con in nothing have plefance
That founeth unto vertue any while.
With on of litel reputation,
Not worth to thee as in compariſon
The mountance of a gnat, fo mote I thrive,
For on thy bedde thy wif I faw him ſwive.
What wol you more? the crowe anon him told,
By fade tokenes and by wordes bold,
How that his wif had don hire lecherie
This Phebus, which that thought upon no gile, Him to gret fhaine and to gret vilanie,
Difceived was for all his jolitee,
For under him another hadde fhe,
A man of litel reputation,
Nought worth to Phebus in compariſon :
The more harme is: it happeth often fo,
Of which ther cometh mochel harme and wo.
And fo befell whan Phebus was abfent
His wif anon hath for hire lemman fent.
Hire lemman! certes that is a knavifh fpeche;
Foryeve it me, and that I you befeche;
The wife Plato fayth, as ye mow rede,
'The word muft nede accorden wit the dede:
if men ſhul tellen proprely a thing
The word muft cofin be to the werking.
I am a boiftous man, right thus fay I;
Ther is no difference trewely
Betwixt a wif that is of high degree
(If of hire body diſhoneſt ſhe be)
And any poure wenche, other than this,
(If it fo be they werken both amis)
But for the gentil is in eftat above
She fhal be cleped his Lady and his Love,
And for that other is a poure woman
She fhal be cleped his Wenche and his Lemman;
And God it wote, mine owen dere brother!
Men lay as low that on as lith that other.
Right fo betwixt a titleles tiraunt
And an outlawe, or elles a thefe erraunt,
The fame I fay; ther is no difference,
(To Alexander told was this fentence)
But for the tyrant is of greter might
By force of meine for to fle doun right,
And brennen hous and hom, and make all plain,
Lo, therfore is he cleped a Capitain;
And for the outlawe hath but ſmale meine,
And may not do fo gret an harme as he,
Ne bring a contree to fo gret mefchiefe.
Men clepen him an Outlawe or a Thefe.
But for I am a man not textuel
I wol not tell of textes never a del;
I wol go to my Tale as I began.
[now?
Whan Phebus wif had fent for hire lemman
Anon they wroughten all hir luft volage,
This white crowe, that heng ay in the cage,
Beheld hir werke, and fayde never a word;
And whan that home was come Phebus the lord
This crowe fong Cuckow, cuckow, cuckow!
What? brid, quod Phebus, what ſong fingeſt thou
Ne were thou wont fo merily to fing,
That to my herte it was a rejoyfing
To here thy vois? Alas! what fong is this!
By God, quod he, I finge not amis.
Phebus, (quod he) for all thy worthineffe,
For all thy beautee and all thy gentilleffe,
For all thy fong and all thy mintralcie,
For all thy waiting, blered is thin eye
And told him oft he fawe it with his eyen.
This Phebus gan awayward for to wrien:
Him thought his woful herte braft atwo;
His bowe he bent, and ſet therin a flo,
And in his ire he hath his wif yflain:
This is the effect, ther is no more to fain;
For forwe of which he brake his minftralcie,
Both harpe and lute, giterne and fautric,
And eke he brake his arwes and his bowe,
And after that thus fpake he to the crowe:
Traitour, quod he, with tonge of fcorpion
Thou haft me brought to my confuſion:
Alas that I was wrought! why n'ere I dede!
O dere wif, o gemme of luftyhede!
That were to me fo fade and eke ſo trewe,
Now liefl thou ded, with face pale of hewe,
Ful gilteles, that durft I fwere'ywis.
O rakel hond! to do fo foule a mis:
O troubled wit, o ire reccheles!
That urradviſed fmiteft gliteles:
O wantruft! ful of falfe fufpecion,
Wher was thy wit and thy difcretion?
O! every man beware of rakelneffe,
Ne trowe no thing withouten ftrong witneffe:
Smite not to fone er that ye weten why,
And beth aviſed wel and fikerly
Or ye do any execution
Upon your ire for fufpecion.
Alas! a thoufand folk hath rakel fre
Fully fordon, and brought hem in the mire.
Alas! for forwe I wol myfelven fle.
And to the crowe, O falfe thefe! faid he,
I wol thee quite anon thy falſe tale;
Thou fong whilom like any nightingale,
Now fhalt thou, falfe thefe, thy fong forgon,
And eke thy white fethers everich on,
Ne never in all thy lif ne fhalt thou fpeke;
Thus fhul men on a traitour ben awreke.
Thou and thin offspring ever fhul be blake,
Ne never fwete noife fhul ye make,
But ever crie ageins tempeft and rain,
In token that thurgh thee my wif is flain.
And to the crowe he ftert, and that anon,
And pulled his white fethers everich on,
And made him blak, and raft him all his fong
And eke his fpeche, and out at dere him flong
Unto the devil, which I him betake;
And for this caufe ben alle crowes blake.
Lordings, by this enfample I you pray
Beth ware, and taketh kepe what that ye fay,
Ne telleth never man in all your lif
How that another man hath dight his wif;
He wel you haten mortally certain.
Dan Salomon, as wife clerkes fain,
Techeth a man to kepe his tonge wel;
But, as I fayd, I am no textuel;
1
1
!
74
THE
MANCIPLES
But natheles thus taughte me my dame;
My fone, thinke on the crowe a Goddes name:
My fone, kepe wel thy tonge, and kepe thy frend;
A wicked tonge is worſe than a fend:
My fone, from a fende men may hem bleſſe :
My fone, God of his endeles goodneffe
Walled a tonge with teeth, and lippes eke,
For man fhuld him aviſen what he ſpeke:
My fone, ful often for to mochel ſpeche
Hath many a man ben fpilt, as clerkes teche,
But for a litel fpeche avifedly
Is no man fhent, to ſpeken generally:
My fone, thy tonge fhuldeft thou reftreine
At alle time, but whan thou doft thy peine
To fpeke of God in honour and prayere:
The firfte vertue, fone, if thou wolt lere,
Is to reſtraine and kepen wel thy tonge;
Thus leren children whan that they be yonge:
My fone, of mochel fpeking evil aviſed,
Ther leffe fpeking had ynough fuffifed,
Cometh mochel harme: thus was me told and
In mochel fpeche finne wanteth naught. [taught,
Woft thou wherof a rakel tonge ferveth?
Right as a fwerd forcutteth and forkervcth
TALE.
An arme atwo, my dere fone! right fo
A tonge cutteth frendfhip all atwo:
A jangler is to God abhominable.
Rede Salomon, ſo wife and honourable,
Rede David in his Pfalmes, rede Senek.
My fone, ſpeke not but with thyn hed thou beck 3
Diffimule as thou were defe if that thou here
A janglour fpeke of perilous matere.
The Fleming fayth, and lerne if that thee left,
That litel jangling cauſeth mochel reſt.
My fone, if thou no wicked word haft ſaid
Thee thar not dreden for to be bewraid;
But he that hath miffayd, I dare wel ſain,
He may by no way clepe his word again.
Thing that is fayd is fayd, and forth it goth;
Though him repent, or be him never fo loth,
He is his thral to whom that he hath fayd
A tale of which he is now evil apaid.
My fone, beware, and be non auctour newe
Of tidings whether they ben falſe or trewe :
Wher fo thou come, amonges high or lowe,
Kepe wel thy tonge, and thinke upon the crowè.
i
THE PERSONES PROLOGUE.
175
THE PERSONES PROLOGUE.
By that the Manciple had his tale ended
The fonne fro the fouth line was defcended
So lowe, that it ne was not to my fight
Degrees nine-and-twenty as of hight.
Foure of the clok it was tho, as I geffe,
For enleven foot, a litel more or leffe,
My fhadow was at thilke time as there,
Of fwiche feet as my lengthe parted were
In fix feet equal of proportion;
Therwith the mones exaltation,
I mene Libra, alway gan afcende
As we were entring at the thorpes ende ;
For which our Hofte, as he was wont to gie
As in this cas our jolly compagnie,
Said in this wife; Lordings everich on,
Now lacketh us no Tales mo than on :
Fulfilled is my fentence and my decree;
I trowe that we han herd of eche degree:
Almoſt fulfilled in myn ordinance;
A
I pray to God ſo yeve him right good chance
That telleth us this Tale luftily.
Sire Preeft, quod he, art thou a vicary,
Or art thou a Perfon? fay foth by thy fay.
Be what thou be ne breke thou not our play,
For every man ſave thou hath told his Tale.
Unbokel and fhew us what is in thy male;
For trewely me thinketh by thy chere
Thou ſhuldeſt knitte up wel a gret matere.
Tell us a fable anon, for cockes bones.
This Perfon him anſwerd al at ones;
Thou geteft fable non ytold for me,
For Poule, that writeth unto Timothe,
Repreveth hem that weiven fothfaftneffe,
And tellen fables and fwiche wretchedneffe.
Why fhuld I fowen draf out of my fift
Whan I may fowen whete if that me liſt?
For which I fay, if that you lift to here
Moralitee and vertuous matere,
And than that ye wol yeve me audience,
I wold ful fain at Criftes reverence
Don you pleſance leful, as I can;
But truſteth wel I am a fotherne man ;
I cannot gefte, rom, ram, ruf, by my letter,
And, God wote, rime hold I but litel better :.
And therfore if you lift, I wol not glofe,
I wol you tell a litel Tale in profe
To knitte up all this fefte and make an ende
And Jefu for his grace wit me fende
To fhewen you the way in this viage
Of thilke parfit glorious pilgrimage
That hight Jerufalem celeſtial :
And if ye vouchefauf anon I fhal
Beginne upon my Tale, for which I pray
Tell your avis: I can no better ſay.
But natheles this meditation.
I put it ay under correction.
Of clerkes, for I am not textuel:
I take but the fentence, truſteth me wel:
Therfore I make a proteftation
That I wol ftanden to correction.
Upon this word we han afſented fane;
For as us femed it was for to done,
To enden in fom vertuous fentence,
And for to yeve him ſpace and audience,
And bade our Hofte he fhulde to him fay
That alle we to tell his Tale him pray.
Our Hofte had the wordes for us alle :
Sire Preeft, quod he, now faire you befalle;
Say what you lift, and we ſhul gladly here.
And with that word he ſaid in this manere ;
Telleth, quod he, your meditation,
But hafteth you, the fonne wol adoun:
Beth fru&uous, and that in litel ſpace,
And to do wel God fende you his grace,
176
THE PERSONES TALE
1
THE PERSONES TALE*.
OUR fwete Lord God of heven, that no man wol
perish, but wol that we comen all to the know-
leching of him, and to the blisful lif that is par-
durable, amonefteth us by the prophet Jeremie,
that fayth in this wife, Stondeth upon the wayes,
and feeth, and axeth of the olde pathes, that is to
fay, of olde fentences, which is the good way, and
walketh in that way, and ye fhul finde refreshing
for your foules. Many ben the wayes fpirituel that
leden folk to our Lord Jeſu Criſt, and to the regne
of glory; of which wayes ther is a ful noble way,
and wel covenable, which may not faille to man,
ne to woman that thurgh finne hath mifgon fro
the right way of Jerufalem celeftial, and this way
is cleped Penance, of which man fhuld gladly her-
ken and enqueren with all his herte, to wete what
is penance, and whennes it is cleped penance, and
how many maneres ben of actions or werkings of
penance, and how many ſpices ther ben of pe-
nance, and which thinges apperteinen and beho-
ven to penance, and which thinges diftroublen
penance.
|
rifeth he out of finne that is charged with the
charge of evil ufage: and therfore repentant folk,
that ftint for to finne, and forlete finne or that
finne forlete hem, holy chirche holdeth hem fiker
of hir falvation: and he that finneth and veraily
repenteth him in his laſt day, holy chirche yet ho-
peth his falvation, by the grete mercy of our Lord
Jefu Crift, for his repentance: but take ye the
fiker and certain way.
And now, fith I have declared you what thing
is penance; now ye fhul underſtond that ther ben
three actions of penance. The first is, that a man
be baptifed after that he hath finned. Seint Au-
guftine fayth, But he be penitent for his old finfu
lif, he may not beginne the newe clene lif; for
certes, if he be baptifed without penitence of his
old gilt, he receiveth the marke of baptifme, but
not the grace, ne the remiffion of his finnes, til he
have very repentance. Another defaut is, that men
don dedly finne after that they have received bap-
tifme. The thridde defaute is, that men fall in ve-
nial finnes after hir baptifme fro day to day:
and humble folk is the penance of every day.
The fpices of penance ben three. That on of
hem is folempne, another is commune, and the
thridde privee. Thilke penance that is folempne
is in two maneres, as to be put out of holy chirche
in lenton, for flaughter of children, and fwiche
maner thing another is, whan a man hath fin-
ned openly, of which finne the fame is openly
fpoken in the contree, and than holy chirche by
jugement diftreyneth him for to do open penance:
commun penance is that preeftes enjoinen men in
certain cas, as for to go paraventure naked on pil-
grimage or bare foot: privee penance is thilke
that men don all day for privee finnes, of which
we fhrive us prively, and receive privee penance.
Scint Ambrofe fayth, that penance is the plain-therof fayth Seint Auguftin, that penance of good
ing of man for the gilt that he hath don, and no
more to do any thing for which him ought to
plaine; and fom doctour fayth, Penance is the
waymenting of man that forweth for his finne,
and peineth himſelf for he hath mifdon. Penance
with certain circumstances is veray repentance of
man, that holdeth himſelf in forwe and other peine
for his giltes; and for he ſhal be veray penitent he
fhal firft bewailen the finnes that he hath don, and
ftedfaftly purpoſen in his herte to have fhrift of
mouth, and to don fatisfaction, and never to don
thing for which him ought more to bewayle or
complaine, and to continue in good werkes, or
elles his repentance may not availe: for, as Seint
Ifidor fayth, He is a japer and a gabber, and not
veray repentant, that eftfones doth thing for
which him oweth to repent. Weping, and not for
to ſtint to do finne, may not availe. But natheles
men fhuld hope that at every time that man fal-
leth, be it never fo oft, that he may arife thurgh
penance, if he have grace; but certain it is gret
doute; for, as faith Seint Gregorie, Unnethes a-
CE
*
* Jerem. vi. ; State fuper vias, et videte, et interro-
gate de femitis antiquis, quae fit via hona, et ambu-
late in ea: et invenietis retrigeriuin animabus veftris.”
Urry.
Now fhalt thou underſtond what is behoveful
and neceffary to every parfit penance; and this
ftont on three thinges, contrition of herte, confef-
fion of mouth, and fatisfaction; for which fayth
Seint John Chrifoftome, Penance diftreineth a
man to accept benignely every peine that him is
enjoined with contrition of herte, and fhrift of
mouth, with fatisfaction, and werking of all maner
humilitee. And this is fruitful penance ayenft tho
three thinges in which we wrathen our Lord Jefu
Crift; this is to ſay, by delit in thinking, by reche
THE PERSONES TALE.
177
eneffe in fpeking, and by wicked finful werking:
and ayenft thife wicked giltes is penance, that
may be likened unto a tree.
:
The rote of this tree is contrition, that hideth
him in the herte of him that is veray repentant,
right as the rote of the tree hideth him in the
erthe. Of this rote of contrition fpringeth a ftalke
that bereth branches and leves of confeffion, and
fruit of fatisfaction; of which Crift fayth in his
Goipell, Doth ye digne fruit of penitence, for by
this fruit mow men underftonde and knowe this
tree, and not by the rote that is hid in the herte
of man, ne by the branches, ne the leves of con-
fethion and therfore our Lord Jefu Crift faith
thus, By the fruit of hem fhal ye knowe hem.
Of this rote alfo fpringeth a feed of grace, which
feed is moder of fikerneffe, and this feed is eger
and hote. The grace of this feed fpringeth of God,
thurgh remembrance on the day of dome and on
the peines of helle. Of this matere fayth Salo-
mon, that in the drede of God man forletteth his
finne. The hete of this fede is the love of God,
and the defiring of the joye perdurable. This
hete draweth the herte of man to God, and doth
him hate his finne; for fothly ther is nothing
that favoureth fo fote to a child as the milke of
his norice, ne nothing is to him more abhomina-
ble than that milke whan it is medled with other
mete. Right fo the finful man that loveth his
finne, him femeth that it is to him moft fwete of
any thing, but fro that time that he loveth fadly
our Lord Jefu Crift, and defireth the lifperdurable,
ther is to him nothing more abhominable; for
fothly the lawe of God is the love of God: for
which David the prophet fayth, I have loved thy
lawe, and hated wickedneffe: he that loveth God
kepeth his lawe and his word. This tree faw the
prophet Daniel in fpirit upon the vifion of Na-
buchodonofor, whan he confeilled him to do pe-
nance. Penance is the tree of lif to hem that it
receiven; and he that holdeth him in veray penance
is blifsful, after the fentence of Salomon.
|
don werkes worthy of confeffion; and therefore
fayth Ezechiel, I wol remembre me all the yeres
of my lif in the bitterneffe of my herte: and God
fayth in the Apocalipfe, Remembre you fro whens
that ye ben fall, for before the time that ye finned,
ye weren children of God, and limmes of the
regne of God; but for your finne ye ben waxen
thral, and foule membres of the fende, hate of
angels, felaunder of holy chirche, and fode of the
falfe ferpent, perpetuel matere of the Ere of helle,
and yet more foule and abhominable for ye tref-
paffen fo oft times as doth the hound that torneth
again to ete his own fpcwing, and yet fouler for
your long continuing in finne, and your finful u-
fage, for which ye be roten in your finnes as a
beeft in his donge. Swiche manere thoughtes
make a man to have fhame of his finne and no
delit, as God fayth by the prophet Ezechiel, Ye
fhul remembre you of your wayes, and they fhul
difplefe you. Sothly finnes ben the waies that
lede folk to hell.
The ſecond cauſe that ought to make a man to
have difde gne of finne is this, that, as faith Seint.
Peter, Who fo doth finne is thral to finne, and
finne putteth a man in gret thraldom, and ther-
fore fayth the prophet Ezechiel, I went forweful,
and had diſdeigne of myfelf. Certes wel ought a
man have difdeigne of finne, and withdraw hin
fro that thraldomi and vilany. And lo, what fayth
Seneke in this mater? He faith thus, Though I
wift that neither God ne man fhuld never know
it, yet wold I have difdeigne for to do finne.
And the fame Seneke alfo fayth, I am borne to
greter thinges than to be thral to my body, or for
to make of my body a thral. Ne a fouler thral
may no man ne woman make of his body than for
to yeve his body to finne: al were it the fouleft
chorle or the fouleft woman that liveth, and left
of value, yet is he than more foule and more in
fervitude. Ever fro the higher degree that man
falleth, the more is he thral, and more to God
and to the world vile and abhominable. O good
God! wel ought a man have difdeigne of finne,
fith that thurgh finne ther he was free he is made
bond and therfore fayth Scint Auguftine, If
thou haft difdeigne of thy fervant, if he offend or
finne, have thou than difdeigne that thou thy felf
fhuldet do finne. Take reward of their owen
value that thou ne be to foule to thyfelf. A-
las! wel oughten they than have difdeigne to
be fervants and thralles to finne, and fore to be
afhamed of hemfelf, that God of his endles good-
neffe hath fette in high eftat, or yeve hem witte,
ſtrength of body, hele, beautee, or profperitee,
and bought hem fro the deth with his herte
blood, that they fo unkindly agains his gentil-
In this penance or contrition, man fhal under-
ftond foure thinges; that is to fay, what is contri-
tion, and which ben the caufes that moven a man
to contrition, and how he fhuld be contrite, and
what contrition availeth to the foule. Than is it
thus, that contrition is the veray forwe that a man
receiveth in his herte for his finnes, with fad pur-
pos to fhriven him, and to do penance, and never
more to don finne. And this forwe fhal be in
this maner, as fayth Seint Bernard; it fhal ben
hevy and grevous, and ful fharp and poinant in
herte; firft, for a man hath agilted his Lord and
his creatour, and more fharpe and poinant, for he
hath agilted his father celeftial, and yet more
ſharpe and poinant, for he hath wrathed and agilt-leffe
ed him that boughte him, that with his precious
blod hath delivered us fro the bondes of finne,
and fro the crueltee of the devil, and fro the peines
of helle.
The caufes that ought to meve a man to con-
trition ben fixe. First, a man fhal remembre him
of his finnes; but loke that that remembrance ne
be to him no delit by no way, but grete fhame and
forwe for his finnes; for Job fayth, Sinful men
VOL. I.
A.
quiten him fo vilainfly, to flaughter of hir
owen foules, O good God! ye women that ben
of gret beautee, remembreth you on the pro-
verbe of Salomon, that likeneth a faire woman
that is a fool of hire body, to a ring of gold that
is worne in the groine of a fowe; for right as a
fowe wroteth in every ordure, fo wroteth ſhe hire
beautee in ftinking ordure of finne.
The thridde caufe that ought to meve a man to
contrition, is drede of the day of dome, and of the
M
*
THE PERSONES TALE.
+
fhall brenne fhall torne hem all to peine that be
in helle, for it fheweth hem the horrible divels
that hem tormenten covered with the derkeneſſe
of deth; that is to fay, that he that is in helle
fhal have defaute of the fight of God, for certes
the fight of God is the lif perdurable. The derk-
neffe of deth ben the finnes that the wretched
man hath don, which that diftroublen him to fee
the face of God, right as a derke cloud betwene
us and the fonne: it is londe of mifefe, becauſe
that ther ben three maner of defautes ayenft three
thinges that folk of this world han in this prefent
lif, that is to fay, honoures, delites, and richeffes.
Ayenft honour have they in helle fhame and con-
fuiìon, for wel ye wote that men clepen ho
nour the reverence that man doth to man, but
in helle is non honour, ne reverence, for certes
no more reverence fhal be don ther to a king
than to a knave; for which God faith by the
prophet Jeremie, The folk that me defpifen
hal be in defpite. Honour is alfo cleped gret
lordefhip: ther fhal no wight ferven other but of
harme and turment. Honour is alfo cleped gret
dignitee and highneffe; but in helle fhal they be
alle fortroden of divels: as God fayth, The hor
rible divels fhul gon and comen upon the hedes of
dampned folk; and this is, for as moche as the
higher that they were in this prefent lif the more
fhul they be abated and defouled in helle. Ayenſt
the richeffe of this world fhul they have mifefe of
poverte, and this poverte fhall be in foure thinges,
in defaute of trefour, of which David fayth, The
riche folk, that enbraceden and oneden all hir
herte to trefour of this world, fhul flepe in the
horrible peines of helle; for, as Scint Jerome fayth,
At every time that me remembreth of the day of
dome I quake; for whan I ete or drinke, or do
what fo I do, ever femeth me that the trompe
fowneth in min eres, Rifeth ye up that ben ded,
and cometh to the jugement. O good God!
moche ought a man to drede fwiche a jugement,
ther as we fhul be alle, as Seint Poule fayth, be-
fore the ftreit jugement of oure Lord Jefu Crift,
wheras he fhal make a general congregation,
wheras no man may be abfent; for certes, ther
availeth non eftoine, ne non excufation; and not
only that our defautes fhul be juged, but eke that
all our werkes fhul openly be knowen. And, as
fayth Seint Bernard, Ther ne fhal no pleting availe,
ne no fleight: we fhial yeve rekening of everich
idle word ther fhal we have a juge that may
not be deceived, ne corrupt: and why? for certes
all our thoughtes ben difcovered as to him: ne for
prayer, ne for mede he wit not be corrupt; and
therfore faith Salomon, The wrath of God ne wol
not fpare no wight for prayer, ne for yeft; and
therfore at the day of dome ther is non hope to
efcape; wherfore, as fayth Seins Anfelme, Ful
gret anguifh fhal the finful folk have at that time:
ther fhal be the fterne and wroth juge fitting a-
bove, and under him the horrible pitte of helle
open, to deftroye him that wolde not be knowen
his finnes, which finnes fhullen openly be fhewed
before God and before every creature; and on
the left fide mo divels than any herte may thinke
for to hary and drawe the finful foules to the pitte
of helle; and within the hertes of folk fhal be the
biting confcience, and without forth fhal be the
worldall brenning. Whither than fhal the wretch-fleping of deth, and nothing ne fhul they find in
ed foule flee to hide him? Certes he may not hide
hir hondes of all hir trefour. And moreover, the
him, he muſtcome forth and fhewe him; fotcertes,as mifefe of helle fhall be in defaute of mete and
faith Seint Jerome, the erth fhal caft him out of it, and drink; for God fayth thus by Moyfes, They fhul
the fee, and alſo the aire; that fhal be ful of thon- be wasted with honger, and the briddes of helle
der clappes and lightnings. Now fothly, who ſo fhul devoure hem with bitter deth, and the galb
wil remembre him of thefe thinges I geffe that of the dragon fhal ben hir drinke, and the venime
his finnes fhal not torne him to delit, but to grete of the dragon hir morfels. And further over hir
forwe for drede of the peine of helle; and ther- mifefe fhal be in defaute of clothing, for they fhul
fore faith Job to God, Suffer, Lord, that I may a be naked in body as of clothing, fave the fire in
while bewaile and bewepe or 1 go without re- which they brenne, and other filthes; and naked
torning to the derke lond ycovered with the ful they be in foule, of all maner vertues which
derkeneffe of deth to the lond of miſeſe and of that is the clothing of the foule. Wher ben than
derkeneffe, wheras is the fhadow of deth, wheras the gay robes, the foft fhetes, and the fyn fhertes?
is non ordre ne ordinance, but grifly drede, that Lo, what fayth God of heven by the prophet E-
ever fhal laft. Lo, here may ye fee that Job pray-
faie? that under hem hul be ftrewed mothes, and
ed refpite awhile to bewepe and waile his trefpas, hir covertures fhul ben of wormes of helle. And
for fothely on day of refpite is better than all the further over, hir mifefe fhal be in defaute of fren-
trefour of this world: and for as moche as a man des, for he is not poure that hath good frendes :
may acquite himfelf before God by penitence in but ther is no frend, for neither God, ne no good
this world, and not by trefour, therfore fhuld he creature fhal be frend to hem, and everich of hem
pray to God to yeve him refpite a while to be- flial hate other with dedly hate. The fonnes and
wepen and bewailen his trefpas; for certes, all the doughters fhal rebel ayenft father and mother,
the forwe that a man might make fro the begin- and kinred ayenft kinred, and chiden and deſpiſen
ning of the world, n'is but a litel thing at regardeche other both day and night, as God fayth by
of the forwe of helle. The caufe why that Job
clepeth helle the lond of derkneffe, underſtondeth
that he clepeth it londe or erth, for it is ftable
and never fhal faile, and derke, for he that is in
helle hath defaute of light naturel; for certes the
derke light thar fhal come out of the fire that ever
the prophet Micheas; and the loving children,
that whilom loveden fo flefhly, everich of hen
wold eten other if they might: for how fhuld
they love togeder in the peines of helle whan they
hated eche other in the profperitee of this lif? for
trufte wel hir flefhly love was dedly hate; as faith
་
THE
179
PERSONES TALE.
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ver hem fro peine; and therfore fayth Salomon,
The wicked man dieth, and whan he is ded he
fhal have non hope to efcape fro peine. Who fo
than wold wel underſtonde thefe peines, and be-
thinke him wel that he hath deſerved theſe peines
for his finnes, certes he fhulde have more talent
to fighen and to wepe than for to finge and playe;
for, as fayth Salomon, Who fo that had the fcience
to know the peines that ben eftablifhed and or-
deined for finne he wold forfake finne: That ſci-
ence, fayth Seint Auftin, maketh a man to wai-
menten in his herte.
And
the prophet David, Who fo that loveth wick-
ednoffe he hateth his owen foule, and who fo ha-
teth his own foule certes he may love non other
wight in no manere; and therefore in helle is
no folace, ne no frendship, but ever the more
kinredes that ben in helle, the more curfing, the
more chiding, and the more dedly hate, ther is
among hem. And further over, ther they fhul
have defaute of all maner delites, for certes delites
ben after the appetites of the five wittes, as light,
hering, fmelling, favouring, and touching. But in
helle hir fight fhal be ful of derkeneffe and of
fmoke, and hir eyen ful of teres, and hir hering The fourthe point that oughte make a man have
ful of waimenting and grinting of teeth, as fayth contrition is the forweful remembrance of the good
Jefu Crift, Hir nofe thirles fhul be ful of ftinking; dedes that he hath lefte to don here in erthe, and
and, as fayth Efay the prophet. Hir favouring fhal be alfo the good that he hath loṛne. Sothly the good
ful of bitter galle; and touching of all hir body fhall werkes that he hath lefte, either they be the good
be covered with fire that never ſhal quenche, and werkes that he wrought er he fell into dedly
with wormes that never fhal die, as God fayth by finne, or elles the good werkes that he wrought
the mouth of Efay, And for as moche as they fhul while he lay in finne. Sothly the good werkes
not wene that they mow dien for peine, and by that he did before that he fell in dedly finne ben
deth flee fro peine, that mow they underſtonde in all mortified, aftoned, and dulled, by the eft fin-
the word of Job, that fayth, Ther is the fhadowning; the other werkes that he wrought while he
of deth. Certes a fhadowe hath likeneffe of the thing
of which it is fhadowed, but fhadowe is not the
fame thing of which it is fhadowed: right fo
fareth the peine of helle; it is like deth for the
horrible anguith: and why? for it peineth hem
ever as though they fhuld die anon; but certes
they fhul not dien; for, as fayth Seint Gregory,
To wretched caitifes fhal be deth withouten deth,
and ende withouten ende, and defaute withouten
tailing; for hir deth fhal alway live, and hir ende
fhal ever more beginne, and hir defaute fhal never
faile and therfore fayth Seint John the Evange
lift, They fhul folow deth and they fhul not finde
him, and they fhul defire to die and deth fhal flee
from hem. And eke Job faith, that in helle is non
ordre of rule. And al be it fo that God hath
treate all thing in right ordre, and nothing with-
outen ordre, but all thinges ben ordred and nom-
bred, yet natheles they that ben dampned ben
nothing in ordre, ne hold non ordre; for the erth
hal bere hem no fruite; (for, as the prophet Da-
vid fayeth, God fhal deſtroy the fruite of the erth
as fro hem) ne water fhal yeve hem no moiſture,
ne the aire no refreſhing, ne the fire no light:
for, as fayth Seint Bafil, The brenning of the
fire of this world fhal God yeve in helle to hem
that ben dampned, but the light and the clere-
neffe fhal be yeve in heven to his children, right
as the good man yeveth flesh to his children
and bones to his houndes. And for they fhul
have non hope to efcape, fayth Job at laſt, that
ther fhal horrour and grifly drede dwellen with-
outen ende. Horrour is alway drede of harme
that is to come, and this drede fhal alway dwel in
the hertes of hem that ben dampned; and ther-
fore han they lorne all hir hope for feven caufes :
firft, for God, that is hir juge, fhal be withouten
mercie to hem, and they may not plefe him ne
non of his halwcs, ne they may yeve nothing for
hir raunfom, ne they have no vois to fpeke to
him, ne they may not flee fro peine, ne they have
no goodneffe in hem that they may fhew to deli
:
|
lay in finne they ben utterly ded as to the lif per-
durable in heven. Than thilke good werkes that
ben mortified by eft finning, which he did while
he was in charitee, moun never quicken ayen
without veray penitence: and therof ſayth God
by the mouth of Ezechiel, If the rightful man
retorne again fro his rightwifneffe and do wick-
edneffe fhal he liven? nay; for all the good
workes that he hath wrought fhul never be in re-
membrance, for he fhal die in his finne.
upon thilke chapitre fayth Seint Gregorie thus,
that we fhal underſtonde this principally, that
when we don dedly finne it is for nought than to
remembre or drawe into memorie the good
werkes that we have wrought beforn, for certes
in the werking of dedly fime ther is no truft in
no good werk that we have don beforn; that is
to fay, as for to have therby the lif perdurable
in heven. But natheles the good werkes quicken
again and comen again, and helpe and availe to
have the lif perdurable in heven, whan we have
contrition; but fothly the good werkes that men
don while they ben in dedly finne, for as moche
as they were don in dedly finne, they may ne-
ver quicken; for certes thing that never had lif, may
never quicken; and nathefes al be it fo that they
availen not to have the lif perdurable, yet availen
they to abreggen the peine of helle, or elles to
get temporal richeffles, or elles that God wol the
rather enlumine or light the herte of the finful
man to have repentance; and eke they availen for
to ufen a man to do good werkes that the fende
have the leffe power of his foule. And thus the
certeis Lord Jefu Crift ne woll that no good werk
that men don be lofte, for in fomwhat it fhal a
vaile. But for as moche as the good werkes that
men don while they ben in good lif ben all amor-
tifed by finne folowing, and cke fith all the good
werkes that men don while they ben in dedly finne
ben utterly ded, as for to have the lif perdurable,
wel may that man that no good werk ne doth
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THE PERSONES TALE.
77
fon of man wol not daunt fenfualitee whan it
may, therfore is man worthy to have fhame; and
this fuffred our Lord Jefu Crift for man whan
they fpitten in his vifage. And fertherover, for
as moche as the caitif body of man is rebel both
to refon and to fenfualitee, therfore it is worthy
the deth; and this fuffred our Lord Jefu Crift
upon the croffe, wheras ther was no part of his
fing thilke newe Frenfhe fong, J'ay tout perdu mon
temps et mon labour; for certes finne bereveth a
man both goodneffe of nature and eke the good-
neffe of grace; for fothly the grace of the Holy
Goft fareth like fire that may not ben idle, for fire
faileth anon asit forletteth his werking, and right ſo
grace faileth anon as it for letteth his werking. Than
lefeth the finful man the goodneffe of glorie, that
only is hight to good men that labouren and wer-body free without grete peine and bitter paffion;
ken wel. Wel may he be fory than that oweth all
his lif to God as long as he hath lived, and alſo as
long as he fhal live, that no goodneffe ne hath to
paie with his dette to God, to whom he oweth all
his lif; for truft wel he fhal yeve accomptes, as
fayth Seint Bernard, of all the goodes that han
ben yeven him in this prefent lif, and how he
hath hem difpended, in fo moche that ther fhal
not perishe an here of his hed, ne a moment of
an houre ne fhal not perishe of his time that he
ne fhal yeve therof a rekening.
traied, and after that was he bounde that came
for to unbinde us of finne and of peine; than was
he befcorned that only fhuld have ben honoured in
alle thinges and of alle thinges; than was his vi-
mankind (in which vifage angels defiren to loke)
vilainfly befpet; than was he fcourged that no-
thing had trefpaffed; and, finally, than was he
crucified and flain: than were accomplished the
wordes of Efaie, He was wounded for our mif-
dedes, and defouled for our felonies. Now fith
that Jefu Crift toke on himſelf the peine of all
our wickedneffes, moche ought finful man to wepe
and to bewaile that for his finnes Goddes fone of
heven fhuld all this peine endure.
and all this fuffred our Lord Jefu Crift that never
forfaited and thus fayd he; To mochel am I
peined for thinges that I never deferved, and to
moche defouled for fhendfhip that man is worthy
to have and therfore may the finful man wel
fay, as fayth Seint Bernard, Accurfed be the bit-
terneffe of my finne, for whiche ther muft be
fuffered fo moche bitterneffe: for certes after the
divers difcordance of our wickedneffe was the
paffion of Jefu Crift ordeined in divers thinges, as
thus; certes finful mannes foule is betraied of the
The fifthe thing that ought to meve a man to divel by coveitife of temporel profperitee, and
contrition is remembrance of the paffion that our fcorned by difceite whan he chefeth fleshly delites,
Lord Jefu Crift fuffered for our finnes; for, as and yet it is turmented by impatience of adver-
fayth Seint Bernard, While that I live I thal have fitee, and befpet by fervage and fubjection of
remembrance of the travailes that our Lord Jefu | finne, and at the laſt it is flain finally. For this
Crift fuffered in preching, his werineffe in travel-,difcordance of finful man was Jefu Crift first be-
ing, his temptations whan he fafted, his long wak-
inges whan he prayed, his teres whan he wept for
pitce of good perle, the wo, and the fhame, and
the filthe, that men fayden to him, of the foule
fpitting that met fpitten in his face, of the buffage, that ought to be defired to be ſeen of all
fettes that men yave him, of the foule mouthes
and of the foule repreves that men faiden to him,
of the nayles with which he was nailed to the
croffe, and of all the remenant of his paffion that
he fuffred for mannes finne, and nothing for his
gilte. And here ye fhul understand that in mannes
fune is every maner order or ordinance toarned
up fo doun; for it is foth that God and refon, and
fenfualitee, and the body of man, ben ordained
that everich of thife foure thinges fhuld have
lordſhip over that other, as thus; God fhuld have The fixte thing that fhuld move a man to con-
lordſhip over refon, and refon over fenfualitee, trition is the hope of three thinges; that is to fay,
and fenfualitee over the body of man. But foth foryeveneffe of finne, and the yeft of grace for to
Jy whan man finneth al this ordre or ordinance is do wel, and the glorie of heven, with whiche
turned up fo doun; and therfore than, for as God fhal guerdon man for his good dedes: and
moche as refon of man ne wol not be fubget ne for as moche as Jefu Crift yeveth us thife yeftes
obcifant to God, that is his Lord, by right ther- of his largencffe and of his foveraine bountee,
fore lefeth it the lordſhip that it fhuld have over therfore is he cleped Jefus Nazarenus Rex. Juda-
fenfualitee, and eke over the body of man: and orum. Jefus is for to fay Saviour or Salvation, on
why? for fenfualitce rebelleth than ayenſt reſon, whom men fhul hopen to have foryeveneffe of
and by that way lefeth refon the lordship over finnes, which that is proprely falvation of finnes;
fenfualitee and over the body; for right as refón and therfore fayd the angel to Jofeph, Thou fhalt
is rebel to God, right fo is fenfualitee rebel to re- clepe his name Jefus that fhal faven his peple of
fon and the body alfo. And certes this difordi- hir finnes. And hereof faith Seint Peter, Ther
nance and this rebellion our Lord Jefu Crift a- is non other name under heven, that is yeven to
bought upon his precious body ful dere: and
any man, by which a man may be faved but only
herkeneth in whiche wife; for as moche as refon Jefus. Nazarenus is as moche for to fay as flo-
is rebel to God, therfore is man worthy to have rifhing, in which a man fhal hope that he that
forwe, and to be ded: this fuffred our Lord Jefu | yeveth him remiffion of finnes fhal yeve him alfo
Crift for man after that he had be betraied of his dif-grace wel for to do; for in the flour is hope of fruit
ciple, and diftreined and bounde, fo that his blood
braft out at every nail of his hondes, as faith Seint
Auguftin. And ferthermore, for as moche as re-
in time coming, and in foryeveneffe of finnes hope
of grace wel to do. I was at the dore of thin
herte, fayth Jefus, and clepeth for to enter; he
THE PERSONES TALE.
181
1
that openeth to me fhal have foryeveneffe of his
finnes, and I wol enter into him by my grace, and
foupe with him by the good werkes that he fhal
don, which werkes ben the food of God, and he
fhal foupe with me by the gret joye that I fhal
yeve him. Thus fhal man hope that for his werkes
of penance God fhal yeve him his regne, as he be-
hight him in the Goſpel.
Now fhal man underſtande in which maner fhal
be his contrition. I fay that it fhal be univerfal
and total; this is to fay, a man fhal be veray re-
pentant for all his finnes that he hath don in delite
of his thought, for delite is perilous: for ther
ben two maner of confentinges; that on of hem
scleped Confenting of Affection, whan a man
is meved to do finne, and than deliteth him longe
for to thinke on that finne, and his refon apper-
ceiveth it wel that it is finne ayenft the lawe of
God, and yet his refon refraineth not his foule
delite or talent though he fee wel apertly that it is
ayenft the reverence of God; although his refon
content not to do that finne indede, yet fayn fom
doctours that ſwiche delite that dwelleth longe is
ful perilous, al be it never fo lite: and alfo a man
fhuld forrow, namely for all that ever he hath de-
fired ayenft the lawe of God, with parfite con-
fenting of his refon, for therof is no doute that
it is dedly finne in confenting; for certes ther is
no dedly finne but that it is first in mannes thought,
and after that in his delite, and fo forth into con-
fenting and into dede; wherfore I fay that many
men ne repent hem never of fwiche thoughtes
and delites, ne never fhriven hem of it, but only
of the dede of gret finnes outward; wherfere I
fay that fwiche wicked delites ben fubtil begilers
of hem that fhul be dampned. Moreover, man
ought to forwen for his wicked wordes as wel as
for his wicked dedcs, for certes repentance of a
finguler finne, and not repentant of all his other
finnes, or elles repenting him of all his other finnes
and not of a finguler finne, may not availe; for
certes God Almighty is all good, and therfore
either he foryeveth all, or clles right nought; and
therfore fayth Seint Auguſtin, I wote certainly
that God is enemy to every finner: and how than?
he that obferveth on finne fhal he have forycve-
neffe of the remenant of his other finnes? nay.
And furtherover, contrition fhuld be wonder
forweful and anguifhous, and therfore yeveth
him God plainly his mercie: and therfore whan
my foule was anguifhous, and forweful within
me, than had I remembrance of God that my
praier might come to him. Furtherover, contri-
tion multe be continuel, and that man have fted-
faft purpoſe to fhrive him and to amend him of his
lif; for fothly while contrition lafteth man may
ever hope to have foryeveneffe: and of this com-
eth hate of finne, that deftroyeth finne bothe in
himfelf and eke in other folk at his power; for
which fayth David, They that love God hate
wickedneffe; for to love God is for to love that
he loveth, and hate that he hateth.
The left thing that men fhull underſtand in
contrition is this, wherof availeth contrition. I
|
fay that contrition fomtime delivereth man fro
finne; of which David faith, I fay, (quod David)
I purpofed fermely to fhrive me, and thou Lord
relefedeft my finne.
finne. And right fo as contrition
availeth not without fad purpos of fhrift and fa-
tisfaction, right fo litel worth is fhrift or fatisfac-
tion withouten contrition. And moreover, con-
trition deſtroyeth the prifon of helle, and maketh
weke and feble all the ſtrengthes of the devils, and
reftoreth the yeftes of the Holy Goft and of all
good vertues, and it clenfeth the foule of finne,
and delivereth it fro the peine of helle, and fro
the compagnie of the devil, and fro the fervage
of finne, and reftoreth it to all goodes fpirituel,
and to the conipagnie and communion of holy
chirche. And furtherover, it maketh him that
whilom was fone of ire to be the fone of grace:
and all theſe thinges ben preved by holy writ
and therfore he that wold fet his entent to thiſe
thinges he were ful wife; for fothly he ne fhuld
have than in all his lif corage to finne, but yeve
his herte and body to the fervice of Jefu Crift,
and therof do him homage; for certes our Lord
Jefu Crift hath fpared us fo benignely in our fo-
lies, that if he had ne pitee on mannes foule a fory
fong might we alle finge.
Explicit prima pars penitentiæ, et incipit pars fecunda.
The fecond part of penitence is confeffion, and
that is figne of contrition. Now fhul ye under-
ftonde what is confeflion, and whether it ought
nedes to be don or non, and which thinges ben
convenable to veray confeffion.
Firft fhalt thou underſtande that confeffion is
veray fhewing of finnes to the proeft; this is to
faie veray, for he must confeffe him of all the
conditions that belongen to his finne as ferforth
as he can all muſt be fayd, and nothing excufed,
ne hid, ne forwrapped, and not avaunt him of his
good werkes: alto it is neceffarie to underſtande
whennes that finnes fpringen, and how they en-
crefen, and which they ben.
Offpringing of finnes faith Seint Poule in this
wife; that right as by on man finne entred firſt
into this world, and thurgh finne deth, right fo
deth entreth into alle men that finnen: and this
man was Adam, by whom finne entred into this
world whan he brake the commandement of God:
and therfore he that firſt was fo mighty that he ne
fhuld have died, became fwiche on that he muft
nedes die whether he wold or no; and all his pro-
genie in this that in thilke maner finnen dien.
Loke that in the cftate of innocence, whan Adam
and Eve weren naked in Paradife, and ro thing
ne hadden fhame of hir nakedneffe, how that the
ferpent, that was moſt wily of all other beſtes that
God had made, fayd to the woman, Why com-
manded God you that ye fhuld not ete of every
tree in Paradife? The woman anfwered, Of the
fruit, fayd the, of the trees of Paradife we feden
us,
but of the fruit of the tree that is in the mid-
del of Paradife, God forbode us for to eten, ne
to touche it, left we fhuld die. The ferpent fayd
to the woman, Nay, nay, ye fhal not dien of deth
Mij
182
THE PERSONES TALE.
for foth God wote that what day that ye ete ther-
of your eyen fhul open, and ye fhul be as goddes,
knowing good and harme. The woman faw that
the tree was good to feding, and faire to the eyen,
and delectable to the fight; fhe toke of the fruit of
the tree and did ete, and yave to hire huſbond, and
he ete; and anon the eyen of hem both opened:
and whan they knewe that they were naked, they
fowed of a fig-tree leves in maner of breches to
hiden hir members. Here mow ye fcen that
dedly finne hath firft fuggeftion of the fende, as
fheweth here by the adder, and afterward the de-
lit of the flesh, as fheweth here by Eve, and after
that the confenting of refon, as fheweth by Adamı:
for truft wel though fo it were that the fende
tempted Eve, that is to fay, the flesh, and the fleſh
had delit in the beautee of the fruit defended, yet
certes til that refon, that is to fay Adam, confented
to the eting of the fruit, yet ftode he in the ftate of
innocence. Of thilke Adam toke we thilke finne
original; from him flefhly defcended be we all,
and engendred of vile and corrupt mater; and
whan the foule is put in our bodies, right anon is
contract original finne, and that that was erft but
only peine of concupifcence is afterward both
peine and finne; and therfore we ben all yborne
fones of wrath and of dampnation perdurable, if ne
were baptifme that we receive, which benimeth
us the culpe but forfoth the peine dwelleth with
us as to temptation, which peine hight concupif-
cence. This concupifcence, whan it is wrongfully
difpofed or ordeined in man, it maketh him co-
veit, by coveitiſe of flesh, fleſhly finne by fight of
his eyen, as to eṛthly thinges, and alfo coveitife of
highneffe by pride of herte.
:
but herbes, and water to his drinke, ne no bed but
the naked erth, wherfore his flesh was black as an
Ethiopian for hete, and nie deſtroyed for cold, yet
fayd he that the brenning of lecherie boiled in all
his body wherfore I wot wel fikerly that they
be deceived that fay they be not tempted in hir
bodies; witneffe Scint James, that faid that every
wight is tempted in his owen confcience; that is
to fay, that eche of us hath mater and occafion to
be tempted of the nourishing of finne that is in
his body; and therfore fayth Seint John the Evan-
| gelift, If we fay that we ben without finne we de-
ceive ourfelf, and truth is not in us.
Now fhul ye underſtonde in what maner finne
wexeth and encrefeth in man. The first thing is
that nourishing of finne of which I fpake before,
that is, concupifcence; and after that cemeth fug-
geftion of the devil, this is to fay, the divels be-
lous, with which he bloweth in man the fire of
concupifcence; and after that a man bethinketh
him whether he wol do or no that thing to which
he is tempted; and than if a man withftond d
weive the first entiſing of his flesh and of the fend
than it is no finne; and if fo be he do not, than
feleth he anon a flame of delit, and than it is good
to beware and kepe him wel, or elles he wol fall
anon to confenting of finne, and than wol he do
it if he may have time and place. And of this
mater fayth Moyfes by the devil in this maner;
The fend fayth, I wol chace and purfue man by
wicked fuggeftion, and I wol hent him by meving
and ſtirring of finne, and I wol depart my pris or
my prey by deliberation, and my luft fhal be ac-
complifed in delit
complifed in delit; I wol draw my fwerd in con-
ſenting; (for certes right as a fwerd departeth a
thing in two peces, right fo confenting departeth
God fro man) and than wol I fle him with my
hond in dede of finnc. Thus fayth the fend, for
certes than is a man al ded in foule; and thus is
finne accompliſed by temptation, by delit, and by
confenting, and than is the finne actuel.
Forfoth finne is in two maners; cither it is ve-
nial or dedly finne. Sothly whan a man loveth
any creature more than Jefu Crift our creatour,
than it is dedly finne; and venial finne it is if a
man love Jefu Crift leffe than him ought. For-
foth the dede of this venial finne is ful perilous,
for it ameaufeth the love that man fhuld have to
God more and more; and therfore if a man charge
himſelf with many fwiche venial finnes, certes but
if fo be that he fomtime difcharge him of hem by
fhrift, they may wel lightly amenufe in him all the
love that he hath to Jefu Crift. And in this wife
skippeth venial finne into dedly finne; for certes
the more that a man chargeth his foule with ve-
nial finnes, the more he is enclined to fall into ded-
Now, as to fpeke of the firft coveitife, that is,
concupifence, after the lawe of our membres that
were lawfully ymaked, and by rightful jugement
of God, I fay, for as moche as a man is not obei-
fant to God that is his Lord, therfore is his herte
to him diſcbeiſant thurgh concupifcence, which is
called nouriſhing of fiune, and occafion of finne;
therfore all the while that a man hath within him
the peine of concupifence it is impoffible but he
be tempted fomtime, and moved in his fiefh to
finne. And this thing may not faile as long as he
liveth; it may wel waxe feble by vertue of bap-
tifme, and by the grace of God thurgh penitence,
but fully ne fhal it never quenche, that he ne fhal
fomtime be meved in hiinfelfe but if he were re-
freined by fikeneffe, or malefice of forcerie, or cold
drinkes. For lo, what fayth Seint Poule? The
fleſh coyeiteth ayenft the fpirit, and the fpirit
ayenſt the flesh; they ben fo contrarie and fo ftri-
ven that a man may not alway do as he wold.
The fame Seint Poule, after his gret penance in
water and in lond; in water by night and by dayly finne; and therfore let us not be negligent to
in gret peril and in gret peine, in lond in grete
famine and thruft, cold and clothles, and ones
ftoned almoft to deth, yet fayd he, Alas! caitif
man, who fhal deliver me fro the prifon of my cai-
tif body? And Seint Jerom, whan he long time
had dwelled in defert, wheras he had no compag-
jije but of wilde beftes, wheras he had no mete
|
difcharge us of venial finnes; for the proverbe
fayth that many faal maken a gret. And herken
this enfample: a gret wawe of the fee cometh
fomtime with fo gret a violence that it drencheth
the fhip; and the fame harme do fomtime the
imal dropes of water that enteren thurgh a litel
crevis in the thursok, and in the bottom of tha
}
24
THE PERSONES TALE.
zBj
Thip, if men ben fo negligent that they diſcharge
hem not by time; and therfore although ther be
difference betwix thiſe two caufes of drenching al-
gates, the fhip is dreint. Right fo fareth it fom-
time of dedly finne and of anoious venial finnes,
whan they multiplie in man fo gretly that thilke
worldly thinges that he loveth, thurgh which he
finneth venially, is as gret in his herte as the love
of God, or more; and therfore the love of every
thing that is not befet in C1, ne don principally
for Goddes fake, although that a man love it leffe
than God, yet it is venial finne; and dedly finne
is whan the love of any thing weigheth in the
herte of man as moche as the love of God, or
more. Dedly finne, as fayth Seint Auguftine, is
whan a man tourneth his herte fro God, whiche
that is veray foveraine bountee, that may not
chaunge, and yeveth his herte to thing that may
chaunge and flitte; and certes that is every thing
fave God of heven: for foth is that if a man yeve
his love, which that he oweth to God with all his
herte, unto a creature, certes as moche of his love
as he yeveth to the fame creature, fo moche he be-
reveth fro God, and therfore doth he finne; for
he that is dettour to God ne yeldeth not to God
all his dette, that is to fayn, all the love of his
herte.
man may eſchewe al venial finnes, yet may he re-
freine him by the brenning love that he hath to
our Lord Jefu Crift, and by prayer and confef-
fion, and other good werkes, fo that it ſhal but li
tel grieve for, as fayth Seint Auguſtine, If a
man love God in fwiche maner that all that ever
he doth is in the love of God, or for the love of
God veraily, for he brenneth in the love of God,
loke how moche that o drope of water which fal-
leth into a fourneis ful of fire anoicth or greveth
the brenning of the fire, in like maner anoieth or
greveth a venial finne unto that man whiche is
ftedfaft and parfite in the love of our Saviour Je-
fu Crift. Furthermore, men may alſo refreine and
put away venial finne by receiving worthily the
precious body of Jefu Crift, by receiving eke of
holy water, by almes dede, by general confeffion of
confiteor at maffe, and at prime, and at complin, and
by bleffing of bifhoppes and preeftes, and by other
good werkes.
ners.
De Septem Peccatis Mortalibus,
Now it is behovely to tellen whiche ben dedly
finnes, that is to fay, chiefetaines of finnes, for as
moche as all they ren in o lees, but in divers ma❤
Now ben they cleped chiefetaines for as
moche as they be chiefe, and of hem ſpringen all
other finnes. The rote of thiſe finnes than is
pride, the general rote of all harmes, for of this
rote fpringen certain braunches, as ire, envie, ac-
cide or flouthe, avarife or coveitife, (to common
underftonding) glotonie, and lecherie; and eche
of thife chief finnes hath his braunches and his
twigges, as hal be declared in hir chapitres fol-
lowing.
De Superbia,
And though fo be that no man knoweth utter-
ly the nombre of the twigges and of the harmes
that comen of pride, yet wol I fhew a partie of
hem as ye hul underfond. Ther is inobedience,
avaunting, ipocrifie, deſpit, arrogance, impudence,
fwelling of herte, infolence, elation, impatience,
Now fith man underftondeth generally which
is venial finne, than is it convenable to tell fpeci-
ally of funes whiche that many a man peraven-
ture demeth hem no finnes, and fhriveth him not
of the fame, and yet natheles they be finnes fothly,
as thife clerkes writen; this is to fay, at every
tyme that man eteth and drinketh more than fuf-
ficeth to the fuftenance of his body, in certain he
doth finne; eke whan he fpeketh more than it
nedeth, he doth finne; eke whan he herkeneth
not benignely the complaint of the poure; eke
whan he is in hele of body, and wol not faft whan
other folk faſt, without caufe refonable; eke whan
he flepeth more than nedeth, or whan he cometh
by that enchefon to late to chirche, or to other
werkes of charitee; eke whan he ufeth his wif
withouten foveraine defire of engendrure, to the
honour of God, or for the entent to yeld his wifftrif, contumacie, prefumption, irreverence, perti-
his dette of his body; eke whan he wel not vifite
the like or the prifoner if he may; eke if he love
wif or child, or other worldly thing, more than
refon requireth; eke if he flater or blandife more
than him oughte for any neceflitee; cke if he ame-
rufe or withdrawe the almeffe of the poure; eke
if he apparaile his mete more deliciouſly than nede
is, or cte it to haftily by likeroufnelle; eke if he
tulke vanitees in the chirche, or at Goddes fervice,
or that he be a taler of idle wordes of folie or vi-
lanie, for he thal yeld accomptes of it at the day
of dome; cke whan he behighteth or affureth to
don thinges that he may not perfourme; cke
whan that he by lightneffe of foly miffayeth or
fcorneth his neighbour; cke whan he hath ony
wicked fufpecion of thing ther he ne wote of it no
Lothfaltnefle. Thife thinges, and mo withouten
pombre, be finnes, as fayth Seint Auguftine. Now
ful ye underflonde that al be it fo that non eithly
|
|
i
nacic, vaine glorie, and many other twigges that
I cannot declare. Inobedient is he that ditobeyeth
for defpit to the commandements of God, and
to his foveraines, and to his goftly fader; avaun-
tour is he that bofteth of the harme or of the boun-
tee that he hath don; ipocrite is he that hideth to
fhew him fwiche as he is, and theweth him to feme
fwiche as he is not; deſpitous is he that hath dif-
dain of his neighebour, that is to fayn, of his even
Criften, or hath defpit to do that him ought to do;
arrogant is he that thinketh that he hath thofe
bountees in him that he hath not, or weneth that
he fhulde have hem by his deferving, or elles that
demeth that he be that he is not; impudent is he
that for his pride hath no fhame of his funes;
fwelling of herte is whan man rejoyccth him of
harme that he hath don; infolent is he that def-
pifeth in his jugement all other folk as in regards
of his value, of his conning, of his fpeking, and of
Mi
184
THE PERSONES TALE.
muft it colt the pour peple for the fearceneffe;
and furtherover, if fo be that they wolden yeve
fwiche pounfoned and dagged clothing to the
poure peple it is not convenient to were for hir
his bering; elation is whan he ne may neither fuf-
fre to have maitre ne felawe; impatient is he that
wol not be taught ne undernome of his vice, and
by flrif werrieth truth wetingly, and defendeth
his foly; contumax is he that thurgh his indignationeftate, ne fuffifant to bote hir neceffitee, to kepe
is ayenft every andoritee or power of hem that
ben his foveraines; prefumption is whan a man
undertaketh an emprife that him ought not to do,
or elles that he may not do, and this is called fur-
quidrie; irreverence is whan man doth not honour
ther as him ought to do, and waiteth to be reve-
renced; pertinacie is whan man defendeth his fo-
ly, and trufteth to moche in his owen wit; vaine-
gloric is for to have pompe and delit in his tempo-
rel highucffe, and glorye him in his worldly cftate;
jangling is whan man fpcketh to moche before
folk, and clappeth as a mille, and taketh no kepe
what he fayth.
And yet ther is a privee fpice of pride that
waiteth firft to be falewed or he wol falew, all
be he leffe worthy than that other is; and cke he
waiteth to fit or to go above him in the way, or
kiffe the pax, or ben encenfed or gon to offering
before his neighbour, and fwiche femblable thinges,
ayenft his deutee peraventure, but that he hath
his herte and his entente in fwiche a proude defire
to be magnified and honoured beforn the peple.
hem fro the diftemperance of the firmament. Upon
that other fide, to fpeke of the horrible difordinat
fcantneffe of clothing, as ben thife cutted floppes
or hanfelines, that thurgh hir fhortneffe cover
not the ſhameful mebers of man to wicked
entente: alas! fom of hem fhewen the boffe and
the fhape of the horrible fwollen members, that
femen like to the maladie of Hernia, in the wrap-
ping of hir hofen, and eke the buttokkes of hem
behinde, that faren as it were the hinder part of
a fhe ape in the ful of the mone. And more-
over, the wretched fwollen members that they
fhew thurgh difguifing, in departing of hir hofen
in white and rede, femeth that half hir fhameful
privee nicmbres were flaine: and if fo be that
they departe hir hofen in other colours, as is
white and blewc, or white and blake, or blake
and rede, and fo forth, than femeth it, as by vari-
ance of colour, that the half part of hir privee
members ben corrupt by the fire of Seint Anthonie,
or by cancre, or other fwiche mifchance. Of the
hinder part of hir buttokkes it is ful horrible for
to fee, for certes in that partic of hir body, ther
as they purgen hir ftinking ordure, that foule
partie fhewe they to the peple proudely in difpite
of honeftec, whiche honeftee that Jefu Crift and
his frendes obferved to ſhewe in hir lif. Now as
to the outragious array of women, God wote that
though the vifages of fome of hem femen ful chafte
and debonaire, yet notifien they in hir array of
attire likeroufneffe and pride. I fay not that
honeftce in clothing of man or woman is unco-
venable, but certes the fuperfluitee or difordinat
fcarcitee of clothing is reprevable. Alſo the finne
of ornament or of apparaile is in thinges that ap-
perteine to riding, as in to many delicat hors that
ben holden for delit, that ben fo faire,fatte, and coft-
lewe; and alfo in many a vicious knave that is fuftain-
Now ben ther two maner of prides; that on of
hem is within the herte of a man, and that other
is without; of whiche fothly thife forefayd thinges,
and mo than I have fayd, apperteinen to pride
that is within the herte of man; and ther be other,
fpices of pride that ben withouten; but nathelefs
that on of thife fpices of pride is figne of that other,
riglit as they gay Levefell at the taverne is figne of
the win that is in the celler. And this is in many
thinges, as in fpeche and contenance, and out-
ragious array of clothing; for certes if there had
ben no finne iu clothing Crift wold not fo fone
have noted and ſpoken of the clothing of thilke
rich man in the Gofpel; and, as Seint Gregory
fayth, that precious clothing is culpable for the
derth of it, and for his foftneffe, and for his
frangeneffe and difguifing, and for the fuper-ed
fluitee or for the incrdinate fcantneffe of it. Alas!
may not a man fee as in our daics the finncful
cofilewe array of clothing, and namely in to moche
fuperfuitee, or elles in to difordinate fcantneffe.
As to the first finne, in fuperfluitee, of clothing,
whiche that maketh it fo dere, to the harm of the
peple, not only the cofte of the enbrouding, the
difgufing, endenting or barring, ounding, paling,
winding, or bending, and femblable waft of cloth
in vanitce but ther is alfo the coftlewe furring in
hir gounes, fo muche pounfoning of chefel to
maken holes, fo moche dagging of fheres, with
the fuperfluitce in length of the forefalde gounes,
trailing in the dong and in the myre, on hors and
eke on foot, as wel of m n as of woman, that all
thilke trailing is veraily (as in effect) wafted,
conſumed, thredbare, und rotten with dong, rather
than it is yeven to the poure, to get damage of the
forefayd poure folk, and that in fendry wife; this
is to fayn, the more that cloth is wafted the more
becauſe of hem; in curious herneis, as in fadles,
cropers, peitrels, and bridles, covered with precious
cloth and rich, barred and plated of gold and filver,
for which God fayth by Zacharie the prophet,
I wol confounde the riders of fwiche hors. Thefe
folke taken litel regard to the riding of Goddes
fone of heven, and of his harneis, whan he rode
upon the affe, and had none other harneis but the
pourc clothes of his difciples, ne we rede not that
ever he rode on ony other belte. I fpcke this for
the finne of fuperfluitee, and not for honeftec,
whan reafon it requireth. And morover, certes
pride is gretly notified in holding of gret meinie,
whan they ben of litel profite or of right no
profite, and namely whan that meinic is felonous
and damageous to the peple by hardineffe of high
lordefhip, or by way of office; for certes fwiche
lordes fell than hir lordeflip to the devil of helle
whan they fufteine the wickedneffe of hir meinic 3
or elles whan thife folk of low degree, as they
that holden hoftelries, fufteinen thefte of ha
THE PERSONES TALE
185
mifchance; alſo to have pride of gentrie is right gret
folie, for oft time the gentrie of the body benim-
eth the gentrie ofthe foule: and alſo we ben all of o
fader and of o moder, and all we ben of o nature, rot-
ten and corrupt, bothe riche and poure. For fotho
maner gentric is for to preife, that appareilleth man-
nes corage with vertues and moralitces, and maketh
him Criftes child, for trufteth wel that over what
man that finne hath maiſtrie he is a veray cherl
to finne.
Now ben ther general fignes of gentilneffe, as
efchewing of vice and ribaudrie, and fervage of
finne in word, and in werk and contenance, and
ufing vertue, as courtefie and cleneneffe, and to be
liberal, that is to fay, large by meaſure, for thilke
that paffeth meſure is folie and finne; another
is to remember him of bountee that he of other
folk hath received; another is to be benigne to
his fubgettes; wherfor faith Seneke, Ther is
nothing more covenable to a man of high eſtate
than dobonairtee and pitee; and therfore thife
flies that men clepen Bees, whan they inake hir
they chefen on that hath no pricke wherwith
he may fting. Another is, man to have a noble
herte and a diligent, to atteine to high vertuous
thinges: now, certes a man to priden him in the
goodes of grace is eke an outrageous folie, for
thilke yeftes of grace that fhuld have tourned him
to goodneffe and to medicine tourneth him to
venime and confufion, as fayth Seint Gregorie.
Certes alfo, who fo prideth him in the goodneffe
of Fortune he is a gret fool, for fomtime is a mau
a gret lord by the morwe that is a caitife and a
wretch or it be night: and fometime the richneffe
of a man is caufe of his deth and fomtime the
delites of a man ben caufe of grevous maladie
thurgh which he dieth. Certes the commenda-
tion of the peple is ful calfe and brotel for to truſt;
this day they preife, to-morwe they blame. God
wote defire to have commendation of the peple
hath caufed deth to many a befy man.
hoftellers, and that is in many maner of deceites;
thilke maner of folk ben the flies that folowen
the hony, or elles the houndes that folowen the
caraine: fwiche forefayde folk ftranglen fpiritually
hir lordefnipes; for which thus faith David the
prophet, Wicked deth mot come unto thilke
lordſhipes, and God yeve that they mot defcend
into helle all doun, for in hir houfes is iniquitee
and fhrewedneffe, and not God of heven: and
certes but if they don amendement, right as God
yave his benifon to Laban by the ſervice of Jacob,
and to Pharao by the fervice of Jofeph, right fo
God wol yeve his malifon to fwiche lordafhipes
as fufteine the wickedneffe of hir fervants, but
they come to amendement. Pride of the table
appereth eke ful oft, for certes riche men be clep-
ed to feftes, and poure folk he put away and
rebuked; and alfo in exceffe of divers metes and
drinkes, and namely fwiche maner bake metes
and difhe metes brenning of wilde fire, and peint
ed and caftelled with paper, and femblable waft,
fo that it is abufion to thinke; and eke in to gret
precioufneffe or veffell, and curiofitee of minftral-king
cie by which a man is ftirred more to the delites of
luxurie, if fo be that he fette his herte the leffe
upon oure Lord Jefu Crift, it is a finne; and
certainly the delites might ben fo gret in this cas
that a man might lightly fall by hem into dedly
finne. The fpices that fourden of pride, fothly
whan they fourden of malice imagined, avifed,
and forecafe, or elles of ufage, ben dedly finnes
it is no doute; and whan they fourden by freeltee
unavifed fodenly, and fodenly withdrawn again,
al be they grevous finnes I geffe that they be not
dedly. Now might men afke wherof that pride
fourdeth and fpringeth? I fay that fomtime it
fpringeth of the goodes of nature, fomtime of the
goodes of fortune, and fomtime of the goodes of
grace. Certes the goodes of nature ſtonden only
in the goodes of the body or of the foul; certes the
goodes of the body ben hele of body, ftrength,
deliverneffe, beautee, gentrie, franchife; the
goodes of nature of the foule ben good wit, ſharpe
underſtonding, ſubtil engine, vertue naturel, good
memorie goodes of fortune ben riches, high de-
gree of lordfhipes, and preifinges of the peple;
goodes of grace ben fcience, power to fuffre fpi-
rituel travaile, benignitee, vertuous contemplation,
with tonding of temptation, and femblable thinges;
of which forefaid goodes certes it is a gret folie
a man to priden him in ony of hem all. Now as for to
Speke of goodes of nature, God wot that fomtime we
have hem in nature as moche to our damage as to
our profite. As for to fpeke of hele of body, trewely,
it paffeth ful lightly, and alfo it is ful ofte en-
chefon of fikneffe of the foule, for God wote the
flesh is a gret enemy to the foule, and therfore
the more that the body is hole the more be we in
peril to falle; eke for to priden him in his ftrength
of body it is a grete folie, for certes the fleſh
coveiteth ayenft. the fpirite, and ever the more
ftrong that the flesh is the forier may the foule be;
and, over all, this ftrength of body and worldly
hardineffe caufith ful of to many man peril and
}
1
Remedium Superbiæ.
Now fith that fo it is that ye have underſtond
what is pride, and which be the ſpices of it, and
how mennes pride fourdeth and fpringeth, now
ye fhul uuderftond which is the remedie ayenft
it. Humilitee or mekeneffe is the remedy ayenft
pride; that is a vertue thurgh which a man hath
veray knowledge of himſelf, and holdeth of him-
felf no deintee ne no pris, as in regard of his
defertes, confidering ever his freeltee. Now ben
ther three maner of humilitees, as humilitee in
herte, and another in the mouth, and the thridde
in werkes. The humilitec in herte is in foure
maneres; that on is whan a man holdeth himſelf
as nought worth before God of heven; the fecond
is whan he deſpiſeth non other man; the thridde
is whan he ne recketh nat though men holde him
nought worth; and the fourth is whan he is not
fory of his humilitation. Alfo the humilitee of
mouth is in four thinges; in attemperate ſpeche;
in humilitce of ſpeche, and whan he confeffeth
186
THE PERSONES TALE.
1
|
with his owen mouth that he is fwiche as he think- | the fifth ſpice is this, for to confent gladly to her.
eth that he is in herte; another is whan he preifken the harme that men fpeke of other folk: this
eth the bountee of another man, and nothing finne is ful gret, and ay encrefeth after the wicked
therof amenufeth. Humilitee eke in werkes is
in foure maners: the firſt is whan he putteth
other men before him; the ſecond is to chefe the
loweſt place of all; the thridde is gladly to affent
to good confeil; the fourth is to ftond gladly
to the award of his fovereigne, or of hem that is
higher in degree; certain this is a gret werk of
humilitec.
De Invidia,
After pride wol I fpeke of the foule finne of
envie, which that is, after the word of the philo-
fopher, forwe of other mennes profperitee; and
after the word of Seint Auguftine it is forwe of
other mennes wele, and joy of other mennes
harme. This foule finne is platly ayenft the
Holy Goft al be it ſo that every finne is ayenft
the Holy Goft, yet natheles for as moche as
bountce apperteineth properly to the Holy Goft,
and envie cometh properly of malice, therfore it
is properly ayenft the bountee of the Holy Goft,
Now hath malice two fpices, that is to fay, hardi-
neffe of herte in wickedneffe, or elles the flesh of
man is fo blind that he confidereth not that he is
in finne, or recketh not that he is in finne, which
is the hardineffe of the divel, That other fpice of
envie is whan that a man werrieth trouth whan
he wot that it is trouth, and alſo whan he wer-
ricth the grace of God that God hath yeve to
his neighbour; and all this is by envic;
certes than is envie the werft finne that is, for
fothly all other finnes be fometime only ayenſt on
Ipecial vertue, but certes envie is ayenft al maner
vertues and alle goodneffe, for it is fory of all
bountee of his neighbour and in this maner it is
divers from all other finnes, for wel unnethe is
ther any finne that it ne hath fom delit in him-
felf fave only envie that ever hath in himſelf
anguiſh and forwe. The fpices of envie
ben thefe: ther is first forwe of other mennes
goodneffe and of hir profperitee, and profperitee
ought to be kindly mater of joye; than is envie
a finne ayenft kinde. The feconde fpice of envie
is joye of other mennes harme, and that is properly
like to the divel, that ever rejoyfeth him of mannes
harme. Of thife two fpecies, cometh backbiting;
and this finne of backbiting or detracting hath
certain fpices, as thus; fom man preifeth his
neighbour by a wicked entente, for he maketh
alway a wicked knotte at the laſte ende; alway he
maketh a but at the laft ende, that is digne of more
blame than is worth all the preifing: the fecond
fpice is, that if a man be good, or doth or fayth
a thing good entente, the backbiter wol turne all
that goodeffe up fo doun to his fhrewde entente:
the thridde is to amenufe the bountee of his neigh-
bour the fourthe fpice of backbiting is this, that
if men fpeke goodneffe of a man than wol the
backbiter fay, Farfay fwiche a man is yet better
than he, in difpreifing of him that men preife;
J
entent of the backbiter: after backbiting cometh
grutching or murmurance, and fometime it
fpringeth of impatience ayenſt God, and fomtime
ayenft man: ayenft God it is whan a man
grutcheth ayenft the peine of helle, or ayenf
poverte, or loffe of catel, or ayenft rain or tem-
peft, or elles grutcheth that fhrewes have pro-
fperitee, or elles that good men have adverfitee:
and all thiſe thinges fhuld men fuffre patiently,
for they comen by the rightful jugement and
ordinance of God. Somtime cometh grutching of
avarice, as Judas grutched ayenft the Magdeleine
whan fhe anointed the hed of our Lord Jefu Criſt
with hire precious oynement: this maner mur-
muring is fwiche as whan man grutcheth of
goodneife that himself doth or that other folk
don of hir owen catel. Somtime cometh mur-
mur of pride, as whan Simon the Pharifee
grutched ayenft the Magdeleine whan fhe ap-
proched to Jefu Crift and wept at his feet for hire
finnes : and fomtime it fourdeth of envie,
whan men difcover a mannes harme that was
privee, or bereth him on hond thing that is falfe.
Murmur alfo is oft among fervants, that grutchen
whan hir foveraines bidden hem do leful thinges:
and for as moche as they dare not openly withfay
the commaundement of hir foveraines, yet wol
they fay harme and grutche and murmure prively
for veray defpit, which wordes they call the
divels Pater nofter, though fo be that the devil had
never Pater nofter, but that lewed folk yeven it
fwiche a name.
Somtime it cometh of ire or
privee hate, that norifheth rancour in the herte,
as afterward I fhal declare. Than cometh eke
bitterneffe of herte, thurgh which bitterneſſe
very good dede of his neighbour femeth to him
bitter and unfavory. Than cometh difcord,
that unbindeth all maner of frendship: than
cometh fcorning of his neighbour, al do he never
fo wel: than cometh accufing, as whan a man ſe-
keth occafion to annoyen his neighbour, which
is like the craft of the divel, that waiteth both
day and night to accufen us all: than cometh
man annoieth his
malignitee, thurgh which a
neighbour prively if he may, and if he may not
algate his wicked will faal not let as for to brenne
his hous privel, or enpoifen him, or fle his beſtes,
and femblab.e hinges,
R:medium Invidie
Now wol I fpcke of the remedic ayenft this
foule finne of envie, Firfte is the love of God
principally, and loving of his neighbour as him-
felf, for fothly that on ne may not be without
that other; and truft wel that in the name of thy
neighbour thou fhalt underftande the name of
thy brother, for certes all we have on fader flefh.
ly and on moder, that is to fay, Adam and Eve,
and alfo on fader fpirituel, that is to fay, God of
heven. Thy neighbour art thou bounde for to
THE PERSONES
TALE.
187
hem is good, and that other is wicked. The good
ire is by jaloufie of goodneffe, thurgh the which
man is wroth with wickedneffe, and again wick-
edneffe, and therfore faith the wife man that ire
is better than play. This ire is with debonairtee,
and it is wrothe without bitterneffe; not wrothe
ayenft the man, but wrothe with the miſdede of
the man; as faith the prophet David, Irufcimini,
et nolite peccare. Now underſtond that wicked ire
is in two maners, that is to fay, foden ire or hafty
ire, without avifement and confenting of refon;
the meaning and the fenfe of this is, that the re-
fon of aman ne confenteth not to that foden ire, and
than it is venial. Another ire is that is ful wick-
that cometh of felonie of herte, avifed and
caft before, with wicked will to do vengeance,
and therto his refon confenteth; and fothly this
is dedly finne. This ire is fo diſpleſant to God
that it troubleth his hous, and chafeth the Holy
Goft out of mannes foule, and wafteth and de-
ftroyeth the likeneffe of God, that is to fay, the
vertue that is in mannes foule, and putteth in him
the likeneffe of the devil, and benimeth the man
fro God that is his rightful Lord. This ire is a
ful gret plefance to the devil, for it is the devils
forneis that he enchaufeth with the fire of helle
for certes right fo as fire is more mighty to de-
ftroie erthly thinges than any other element, right
love, and will him all goodneſſe, and therfore
all goodneffe, and therfore
fayth God, Love thy neighbour as thyfelf, that is
to fay, to falvation both of lif and foule; and
moreover, thou fhalt love him in word, and in
benigne amoneſting and chaſtiſing, and comfort
him in his anoyes, and praye for him with all thy
herte; and in dede thou fhalt love him in fwiche
wife that thou fhalt do to him in charitee as thou
woldest that it were don to thin owen perfon, and
therfore thou ne fhalt do him no damage in wick.
ed word, ne harme in his body, ne in his catel,
ne in his foule, by entifing of wicked enfample:
thou shalt not defire his wif, ne non of his thinges.
Underſtonde eke that in the name of Neighbour
is comprehended his enemy; certes man thal loved,
his enemy for the commandement of God, and
fothly thy frend thou fhalt love in God: I fay
thin enemy fhalt thou love for Goddes fake by his
commandement, for if it were refon that man
fhulde hate his enemy forfoth God n'olde not re-
ceive us to his love that ben his enemies. Ayenft
three maner of wronges that his enemy doth to
him he ſhal do three thinges, as thus; ayenſt hate
and rancour of herte he fhal love him in herte;
ayenft chiding and wicked wordes he fhal pray
for his enemy; ayenft the wicked dede of his ene-
iny he fhal do him bountee; for Crift fayth, Love
your enemies, and prayeth for hem that fpeke
you harme, and for hem that chafen and purfuenfo
you, and do bountee to hem that haten you. Lo,
thus commandeth us our Lord Jefu Crift to do to
our enemies. Forfoth nature driveth us to love
our frendes, and parfay our enemies have more
nede of love than our frendes, and they that more
nede have certes to hem fhal men do goodneffe;
and certes in thilke dede have we remembrance
of the love of Jefu Crift that died for his ene-
mies; and in as moche as thilke love is more
grevous to performe, fo moche is more gret the
merite, and therfore the loving of our enemy
hath confounded the venime of the divel; for
right as the divel is confounded by humilitee,
right fo is he wounded to the deth by love of our
enemy: certes than is love the medicine that
cafteth out the venime of envie fro mannes herte.
De Ira.
After envy wol I declare of the finne of ire,
for fothly who fo hath envy upon his neighbour
anon communly wol finde him mater of wrath in
word or in dede ayenſt him to whom he hath en-
vie. And as wel cometh ire of pride as of envie,
for fothly he that is proude or envious is lightly
wroth.
This finne of ire, after the difcriving of Seint
Auguſtin, is wicked will to be avenged by word
or by dede; ire, after the philofophre, is the fer-
vent blode of man yquicked in his herte, thurgh
which he wold harme to him that he hateth; for
certes the herte of man by enchaufing and meving
of his blood waxeth fo troubled that it is out of
all maner jugement of refon. But ye fhul under-
derſtonde that ire is in two maners, that on of
|
ire is mighty to deftroie all fpirituel thinges.
Loke how that fire of final gledes, that ben almoſt
ded under afhen, wol quicken ayen whan they
ben touched with brimstone; right fo ire wol
evermore quicken ayen whan it is touched with
pride that is covered in mannes herte; for certes
fire ne may not come out of nothing, but if it
were firft in the fame thing naturelly, as fire is
drawn out of flintes with ftele; and right fo as
pride is many times mater of ire, right fo is ran-
cour norice and keper of ire. Ther is a maner
tree, as fayth Seint Ifidore, that whan men make
a fire of the faide tree, and cover the coles of it
with afhen, fothly the fire therof wol laft all a
yere or more and right fo fareth it of rancour
whan it is ones conceived in the herte of fom
men; certes it wol laften peraventure from on
Eafterne day until another Eaſterne day, or more ;
but certes the fame man is ful fer from the mer-
cie of God all thilke while.
In this forefaid devils forneis ther forgen three
fhrewes, Pride, that ay bloweth and encrefeth the
fire by chiding and wicked wordes; than ſtondeth
Envie, and holdeth the hot yren upon the herte
of man with a pair of longe tonges of longer
rancour; and than ftondeth the finne of contu
melie, or ftrif and cheſte, and battereth and forg-
eth by vilains reprevinges. Certes this curfed finne
annoyeth both to the man himſelf and eke his
neighbour, för fothly almoſt all the harme or da-
mage that ony man doth to his neighbour cometh
of wrath, for certes outrageous wrathe doth all
that ever the foule fende willeth or commandeth
him; for he ne ſpareth neyther for our Lord Je-
fu Crift ne his fwete moder; and in his outrage-
ous anger and ire, alas! alas! ful many on at that
188
THE PERSONES TALE.
time feleth in his herte ful wickedly both of Crift
and alfo of all his halwes. Is not this a curfed
vice? yes, certes. Alas! it benimmeth fro man
his witte and his refon, and all his debonaire lif
fpirituel, that fhuld kepe his foule: certes it be-
nimmeth alfo Goddes due lordship (and that is
mannes foule) and the love of his neighbours;
it ftriveth alfo all day ayenft trouth; it reveth
him the quiet of his herte, and fubverteth his
foule.
and by that mifhappe the childe is flaine, yet is it
homicide. What fay we eke of women that
murderen hir children for drede of worldly fhame?
certes it is an horrible homicide. Eke if a man
approche to a woman by defir of lecherie thurgh
which the childe is perifhed, or elles fmitten a
woman wetingly, thurgh which fhe lefeth hire
child, all thiſe ben homicides, and horrible dedly
finnes. Yet comen ther ire many mo finnes, as
wel in worde as in thought and in dede; as he
that arretteth upon God, or blameth God of the
thing of which he is himſelf gilty, or defpifeth God
and all his halwes, as don thiſe curfed hafardours
in divers contrees. This curfed finne don they
whan they felen in hir herte ful wickedly of God
and of his halwes: alfo whan they treten unre-
verently the facrament of the auter, thilke finne
is fo gret that unneth it may be relefed, but that
the mercy of God paffeth all his werkes, it is fo
gret, and he fo benigne. Than cometh alſo of ire
attry anger, whan a man is fharpely amonefted in
his fhrift to leve his finne; than wol he be angry,
and anfwere hokerly and angerly, to defend or
excufen his finne by unftedfaftneffe of his flesh;
or elles he did it for to hold compagnie with his
felawes; or elles he fayeth the fend enticed him;
or elles he did it for his youthe; or clles his com-
plexion is fo corageous that he may not forbere;
or elles it is his deftinee, he fayth, unto a certain.
age; or elles he ſayth it cometh him of gentilneffe
of his aunceftres, and femblable thinges. All thife
maner of folke fo wrappen hem in hir finnes
that they ne wol not deliver hemfelf, for fothly
no wight that excufeth himſelf wilfuly of his
finne may not be delivered of his finne tii that he
Of ire comen thife ftinking engendrures; first
hate, that is olde wrath; difcord, thurgh which
a man forfaketh his olde frend that he hath loved
ful long; and than cometh werre, and every ma-
ner of wrong that a man doth to his neighbour in
body or in catel. Of this curfed finne of ire
cometh eke manslaughter. And underſtondeth
wel that homicide (that is manflaughter) is in di-
vers wife.
Som maner of homicide is fpiritucl,
and fom is bodily. Spirituel manslaughter is in
fix thinges. First, by hate, as fayth Seint John,
He that hateth his brother is an homicide. Ho-
micide is alſo by backbiting, of which backbi-
tours fayth Salomon, that they have two fwerdes
with which they ſay hir neighbours; for fothly
as wicked it is to benime of him his good name
as his lif. Homicide is alfo in yeving of wicked
confeil by fraude, as for to yeve confeil to areife
wrongful cuftomies and talages, of which fayth
Salomon, A lion roring, and a bare hungrie, ben
like to cruel lordes in withholding or a bregging
of the hire or of the wages of fervantes, or elles
in ufurie, or in withdrawing of the almeffe of
poure folk; for which the wife man fayth, Fedeth
him that almoft dieth for honger, for fothly but
if thou fede him thou fleeft him and all thifemekely beknoweth his finnc. After this than
ben dedly finnes. Bodily manflaughter is whan cometh fwering, that is expreffe ayenft the com-
thou fleeft him with thy tonge in other maner, as mandement of God; and that befalleth often of
whan thou commandeft to fle a man, or elles anger and of ire: God fayth, Thou shalt not
yevent confeil to fle a man. Manflaughter in dede take the name of thy Lord God in idel: alfo our
is in foure maners. That on is by lawe, right as Lord Jefu Crift fayth by the word of Seint Ma-
a juftice dampneth him that is culpable to the thew, Ne fhal ye not fwere in all manere, ney-
deth ;
but let the justice beware that he do it ther by
ther by heven, for it is Goddes trone, ne by
rightfully, and that he do it not for delit to fpillerthe, for it is the benche of his feet, ne by Je-
blood, but for keping of rightwifeneffe. Another
homicide is don for neceffitee, as whan a man
fleeth another in his defence, and that he ne may
non other wife efcapen fro his owen deth; but
certain and he may cfcape withouten flaughter of
his adverfarie he doth finne, and he fhal bere pe-
nance as for dedly finne. Alfo if a man by cas
or aventure fhete an arowe or caft a fone with
which he fleeth a man, he is an homicide. And
if a woman by negligence overlyeth hire child
in hire flepe, it is homicide and dedly finne. Al-
fo whan a man difturbleth conception of a childe,
and maketh a
woman barein by drinkes of
venimous herbes thurgh which fhe may not con-
ceive, or fleeth hire child by drinkes, or elles put-
teth certain material thing in hire fecret place to
flee hire child, or elles doth unkinde finne, by
which man or woman fhedeth his nature in place
ther as a childe may not be conceived; or elles if
woman hath conceived and hurteth hirefelf,
a
And
rufalem, for it is the citee of a gret king, ne by
thin hed, for thou ne mayft not make an here
white ne black; but he fayth, Be your word ye,
ye, nay, nay; and what that is more it is of evil.
Thus fayth Crift, for Criftes fake fwere not fo
finnefully, in difmembring of Crift, by foule,
herte, boucs, and body; for certes it femeth that
ye thinken that the curfed Jewes difmembred him
not ynough, but ye difmembre him more.
if fo be that the lawe compell you to ſwere, than
reuleth you after the lawe of God in your ſwer-
ing, as fayth Jeremie, Thou shalt kepe three con-
ditions; thou fhalt fwere in trouth, in dome, and
in rightwifeneffe; this is to fay, thou fhalt fwere
foth, for every lefing is ayenß Crift, for Crift is
veray trouth: and thinke wel this, that every
gret fwerer, not compelled lawfully to fwere, the
plage fhal not depart fro his hous while he uſeth
unleful fwering. Thou fhalt fwere alfo in dome,
whan thou art confreined by the domefman' to
THE PERSONES TALE.
189
witneffe a trouth. Alfo thou shalt not fwere for
envie, neyther for favour ne for mede, but only
for rightwifeneffe, and for declaring of trouthe
to the honour and worship of God, and to the
aiding and helping of thin even Criften: and
therfore every man that taketh Goddes name in
idel, or falfely fwereth with his mouth, or elles
taketh on him the name of Crift, to be called a
Criften man, and liveth agenft Criftes living and
his teching, all they take Goddes name in idel.
Loke alfo what fayth Seint Peter, duum iv. Nen
eft aliud nomen fub cælo, &c.; Ther is non other
name (fayth Seint Peter) under heven yeven to
men in which they may be faved, that is to fay,
but the name of Jefu Crift. Take kepe eke
how precious is the name of Jefu Crift, as fayth
Seint Poule ad Philipenfes ii. In nomine Jefu, &c.;
that in the name of Jefu every knee of hevenly
creature, or erthly, or of helle, fhuld bowen
for it is fo high and worshipful that the curfed
fend in helle fhuld tremble for to here it named.
Than femeth it that men that fwere fo horribly
by his bleffed name, that they defpife it more
boldely than did the curfed Jewes, or elles the
divel, that trembleth whan he hereth his name.
Now certes fith that fwering (but if it be law-
fully don) is fo highly defended, moche worfe is
for to fwere falfely and eke nedeles.
lefing cometh for he wol fuftein his word; and
fom lefing cometh of recchelefneffe withouten
avifement, and femblable thinges.
Let us now touche the vice of flaterie, which ne
cometh not gladly, but for drede or for covetife.
Flaterie is generally wrongful preifing: flaterers
ben the devils nourices, that nourish his children
with milke of lofengerie. Forfoth Salomon fayth
that flaterie is werfe than detraction, for fomtime
detraction maketh an hautein man be the more
humble, for he dredeth detraction, but certes fla-
terie maketh a man to enhaunce his herte and his
contenance. Flaterers ben the devils enchauntours,
for they maken a man to wenen himfelf be like
that he is not like they be like to Judas that be-
trayed God; and thiſe flaterers betrayen man to
felle him to his enemy, that is the devil. Flate-
rers ben the devils chappeleines, that ever fingen
Placebo. I reken flaterie in the vices of ire, for of
time if a man be wroth with another, than wol he
flater fom wight to fufteine him in his quar-
rel.
Speke we now of fwiche curfing as cometh of
irous herte. Malifon generally may be faid every
maner power of harme: fwiche curfing bereveth
man the regne of God, as fayth Seint Poule; and
oft time fwiche curfing wrongfully retorneth again
to him that curfeth, as a bird retorneth again to
his owen neft: and over all thing men ought
efchew to curfe hir children, and to yeve to the
devil hir engendrare, as fer forth as in hem is;
certes it is a grete peril and a grete finne.
What fay we eke of hem that deliten hem in
fwering, and hold it a genterie or manly dede to
fwere gret othes? and what of hem that of veray
ufage ne ceſe not to fwere gret othes, al be the cauſe
not worth a ftrawe? certes this is horrible finne : Let us than fpeke of chiding and repreving,
fwering fodenly without aviſement is alſo a gret which ben ful grete woundes in mannes herte, for
finne. But let us go now to that horrible fwc- they unfow the feames of frendfhip in mannes
ring of adjuration and conjuration, as don thife herte; for certes unnethe may a man be plainely
falfe enchantours and nigromancers in bafins accorded with him that he hath openly reviled,
ful of water, or in a bright fwerde, in a cercle, repreved, and difclaundred; this is a full grilly
or in a fire, or in a fholder bone of a fhepe: I finne, as Crift fayth in the gofpel. And take yc
cannot fayn but that they do curfedly and dam-kepe now that he that reproveth his neighbour
nably ayent Crift, and all the faith of holy
chirche.
rattes,
What fay we of hem that beleven on divinales,
as by flight or by noife of briddes or of beftes, cr
by forte of geomancie, by dremes, by chirking
of dores, or cracking of houſes, by gnawing of
and fwiche maner wretchedneffe? Certes
all thile thinges ben defended by God and holy
chirche, for which they ben accurfed, till they come
to amendement, that on fwiche filth fet hir be-
leve. Charmes for woundes, or for maladies of
men or of beftes, if they take any effect it may be
peraventure that God fuffreth it for folk fhuld
yeve the more feith and reverence to his name.
either he repreveth him by fom harme of peine
that he hath upon his bodie, as mefel, croked har-
lot, or by fom finne that he doth now if he re-
preve him by harme of peine, than turneth the re-
preve to Jefu Crift; for peine is fent by the right-
wife onde of God, and by his fuffrance, be it me-
felrie, or maime, or maladie; and if he repreve
him uncharitably of finne, as thou holour, thou
dronkelewe harlot, and fo forth, than appertein-
eth that to the rejoicing of the devil, which ever
hath joye that men don finne. And certes chiding
may not come but out of a vilains herte, for after
the haboundance of the herte fpeketh the mouth
ful oft. And ye fhul underftond that loke by any
Now wol I fpeke of lefinges, which generally is way whan ony man chaftifeth another that he be-
falfe fignifiance of word, in entent to deceive his ware fro chiding or repreving, for trewely but he
even Criflen. Some lefing is of which ther com- beware he may ful lightly quicken the fire of an-
eth non avantage to no wight; and fom lefing ger and of wrath, which he fhuld quench, and per-
turneth to the profite and cfe of a man, and to aventure fleth him that he might chaftife with
the dammage of another man; another lefing is benignitee; for, as fayth Salomon, The amiable
for to faven his lif or his catel; another lefingtonge is the tree of lif, that is to fay, of lif fpiri-
cometh of delit for to lie, in which delit they wol | tuel; and fothly a diffolute tonge fleth the ſpirit
forge a long tale, and peint it with all circumftan- of him that refreveth, and alfo of him which is
ces, wher all the ground of the tale is falfe; fome | repreved. Lo, what fayth Seint Augufline; Ther
4
190
THE PERSONES TALE.
:
!
is nothing fo like the devils child as he which oft rekening of hem before God. Now cometh jang.
chideth; a fervant of God behoveth not to chide; ling, that may not come withouten finne; and, as
and though that chiding be a vilains thing betwix fayth Salomon, It is a figne of apert folie; and
all maner folk, yet it is certes moſt uncovenable therfore a philofophre fayd, whan a man axed him
betwene a man and his wif, for ther is never reft; how that he fhuld plefe the peple, he anſwered,
and therfore fayth Salomon, An hous that is unco- | Do many good werkes, and ſpeke few jangelinges.
vered in rayn and dropping and a chiding wif ben After this cometh the finne of japeres, that ben
like; a man which is in a dropping hous in many the devils apes, for they make folk to laugh at hir
places though he efchew the dropping in o place, japerie, as folk don at the gaudes of an ape:
it droppeth on him in another place; fo fareth it fwiche japes defendeth Seint Poule. Loke how
by a chiding wif, if ſhe chide him not in o place that vertuous wordes and holy comforten hem
fhe wol chide him in another; and therfore better that travaillen in the fervice of Crift, right fo com-
is a morfel of bred with joye than an hous filled forten the vilains words and the knakkes of ja-
ful of delices with chiding, fayth Salomon: and peres hem that travaillen in the ſervice of the de-
Seint Poule fayth, O ye women! beth ye fubgettes vil. Thife ben the finnes of the tonge, that comen
to your huſbonds as you behoveth in God; and of ire, and other finnes many mo.
ye men loveth your wives.
Remedium Iræ.
Afterward fpeke we of fcorning, which is a
wicked finne, and namely whan he fcorneth a
The remedie ayenft ire is a vertue that cleped is
man for his good werkes, for certes fwiche fcor-
ners faren like the foule tode, that may not en- Manfuetude, that is debonairtee, and eke ano-
dure to ſmell the fwete favour of the vine whanther vertue that men clepen Patience or Suffe-
it flourisheth: thife fcorners ben parting felaws raunce.
with the devil, for they have joye whan the devil
winneth, and forwe if he lefeth; they ben adver-ftirrings and mevings of mannes corage in his
faries to Jefu Crift, for they hate that he loveth,
that is to ſay, falvation of foule.
Debonairtee withdraweth and refreineth the
herte in fwich maner that they ne fkip not out by
anger ne ire; ſufferance fuffereth fwetely all the
annoyance and the wrong that is don to man
outward. Seint Jerome fayth this of debonair-
tee, that it doth no harme to no wight ne fayth,
Speke we now of wicked confeil, for he that
wicked confeil yeveth is a traitour, for he deceiv-
eth him that trufteth in him; but nathelefs yet is
wicked confeil firft ayenft himfelf; for, as faythne for no harme that men do ne fay he ne chafeth
the wife man, Every falſe living hath this proper-
tee in himſelf, that he that wol annoy another man,
he annoyeth firft himſelf. And men fhul under-
ftond that man fhal not take his confeil of falfe
folk, ne of angry folk, or grevous folk, ne of folk
that loven fpecially hir owen profit, ne of to
moche worldly folk, namely in confeiling of
mannes foule.
Now cometh the finne of hem that maken dif-
cord among folk, which is a finne that Crift ha-
teth utterly; and no wonder is, for he died for
to make concord; and more fhame don they to
Crift than did they that him crucified; for God
loveth better that friendship be amonges folk than
he did his owen body, which that he yave for
unitee; therfore ben they likened to the devil,
that ever is about to make difcord.
Now cometh the finne of double tonge, fwiche
as fpeke faire before folk and wickedly behind, or
elles they make femblaunt as though they fpake
of good entention, or elles in game and play, and
yet they ſpeken of wicked entente.
Now cometh bewreying of confeil, thurgh which
a man is defamed: certes unnethe may he reftore
the damage: now cometh manace, that is an open
folie, for he that oft manaceth he threteth more
than he may performe ful oft time: now comen
idel wordes that be without profite of him that
fpeketh the wordes, and cke of him that herken-
eth the wordes, or elles idel wordes ben tho that
ben nedeles, or withouten entente of naturel pro-
fit; and al be it that idel wordes be fomtime veni-
al finne, yet fhuld men doute hem, for we fhul yeve
not ayenft refon. This vertue fomtime cometh
of nature; for, as fayth the philofophre, A man is
a quick thing, by nature debonaire, and tretable
to goodneffe; but whan debonairtec is enformed
of grace, than it is the more worth.
Patience is another remedy ayenſt ire, and is a
vertue that fuffereth fwetely every mannes good-
neffe, and is not wroth for non harme that is don
to him. The philofophre fayth that patience is
the vertue that fuffreth debonairly al the outrage
of adverfitee and every wicked word. This vertue
maketh a man like to God, and maketh him
Goddes owen childe, as fayth Crift: this vertue
difcomfiteth thin enemies; and therfore fayth the
wife man, If thou wolt vanquish thin enemie ſee
thou be patient. And thou shalt underſtond that
a man fuffereth foure maner of grevances in out-
ward thinges, ayenft the which foure he muſt have
foure maner of patiences.
That
The firft grevance is of wicked wordes; thilke
grevance fuffred Jefu Crift, without grutching,
ful patiently, whan the Jewes defpifed him and
repreved him ful oft: fuffer thou therfore pa-
tiently, for the wife man faith, If thou ftrive with
a foole, though the foole be wroth, or though he
laugh, algate thou shalt have no refte.
other grevance outward is to have domage of thy
catel; therayenft fuffred Crift ful patiently whan
he was defpoiled of al that he had in this lif, and
that n'as but his clothes. The thridde grevance is
a man to have harme in his body; that fuffred
Crift ful patiertly in all his paffion. The fourthe
wher
grevance is in outrageous labour in werkes;
1
THE PERSONES TALE.
191
före I fay that folk that make hir fervants to tra-
vaile to grevofly, or out of time, as in holy dayes,
fothly they do gret finne: hereayenft fuffered
Cri ful patiently, and taught us patience, whan
he bare upon his bleffed fholders the croffe upon
which he fuld fuffer defpitous deth. Here may
men lerne to be patient; for certes not only Criften
men be patient for love of Jefu Crift, and for
guerdon of the blisful lif that is perdurable, but
certes the old Payenes, that never were chrif-
tened, commendeden and ufedea the vertue of
patience.
A philofophre upon a time that wold have be-
ten his difciple for his gret trefpas, for which he
was gretly meved, and brought a yerde to bete the
childe, and whan this child fawe the yerde he fayd
to his maiſter, What thinke ye to do? I wol bete
thee, fayd the maifter, for thy correction. For-
foth, fayd the childe, ye ought first correct your-
felf, that have lost all your patience for the offence
of a child. Forfocth, fayd the maifter, all weping,
thou fayeft foth; have thou the yerde, my dere
fone! and correct me for min impatience. Of
patience cometh obedience, thurgh which a man
is obedient to Crift, and to all hem to which he
ought to be obedient in Crift. And underſtand
wel that obedience is parfite whan that a man doth
gladly and haſtily, with good herte entirely, all
that he fhuld do. Obedience generally, is to per-
forme haftily the doctrine of God and of his fove-
raines, to which him ought to be obeifant in all
rightwiſeneſſe.
De Accidia.
After the finne of wrath now wol I fpeke of the
finne of accidie or flouth; for envie blindeth the
herte of a man, and ire troubleth a man, and ac-
cidie maketh him hevy, thoughtful, and wrawe.
Envie and ire maken bitternelle in herte, which
bitterneſſe is mother of accidic, and benimeth him
the love of alle goodneffe; than is accidie the an-
guiſh of a trouble herte and Seint Auguftine
fayth, It is annoye of goodneffe and annoye of
harthe. Certes this is a damnable finne, for it
doch wrong to Jefu Crift, in as moche as it beni-
meth the fervice that men fhulde do to Crift with
alle diligence, as fayth Salomon; but accidie doth
non fwiche diligence: he doth all thing with an-
noye, and with wrawneſſe, flackneffe, and excufa-
tion, with idelneffe and unluft; for which the
book fayth, Accurfed be he that doth the fervice
of God negligently. Than is accidie enemy to
every eftate of man; for certes the eftate of man
is in three maners: either it is the eſtate of inno-
cence, as was the eftate of Adam before that he fell
into fine, in which eſtate he was holden to werk,
as in herying and adoring of God. Another eftate
is the eftate of finful men, in which eftate men
ben holden to labour in praying to God for
amendement of hir finnes, and that he wold
graunt hem to rife out of hir finnes. Another eſtate
is the eftate of grace, in which eftate he is holden
to werkes of penitence; and certes to all thife
}
for he
thinges is accidie enemie and contrary,
loveth no befineffe at all. Now certes this foule
finne of accidie is eke a ful gret enemie to the live-
lode of the body, for it ne hath no purveaunce
ayenft temporel neceffitce, for it forfleutheth, for-
fluggeth, and deftroieth all goodes temporel by
recchelefneffe.
The fourth thing is that accidie is like hem that
ben in the peine of helle becauſe of hir flouthe and
of hir hevineffe; for they that be damned ben fo
bound that they may neyther do wel ne think
wel. Of acridie cometh first that a man is annoi-
ed and accombred to do any goodneffe, and that
maketh that God hath abhomination of fwiche ac-
cidie, as fayth Seint John.
Now cometh flouthe, that wol not fuffre no
hardneffe ne no penance; for fothly flouthe is fo
tendre and fo delicat, as fayth Salomon, that he
wol fuffre non hardneffe ne penance, and therfore
he fhendeth all that he doth. Ayenft this roten
finne of accidie and flouthe fhuld men exercife
hemfelf, and ufe hemfelf to do good werkes, and
manly and vertuously cachen corage wel to do,
thinking that our Lord Jefu Crift quiteth every
good deed, be it never ſo lite. Ufage of labour is
a gret thing, for it maketh, as fayth Seint Ber-
nard, the labourer to have ftrong armes and hard
finewes, and flouthe maketh hem feble and tendre,
Than cometh drede for to beginne to werke any
good werkes; for certes he that enclineth to finne,
him thinketh it is to gret an emprife for to under-
take the werkes of goodneffe, and cafteth in his
herte that the circumftances of goodneffe ben fo
grevous and fo chargeant for to fuffre that he dare
not undertake to do werkes of goodneffe, as fayth
Seint Gregoric.
Now cometh wanhope, that is defpeir of the
mercy of God, that cometh fomtime of to moche
outrageous forwe, and fomtime of to moche
drede, imagining that he hath do ſo moche finne
that it wolde not availe him though he wolde re-
pent him and forfake finne, thurgh which defpeire
or drede he abandoneth all his herte to every ma-
ner finne, as fayth Seint Auguftine; which damp-
nable finne, if it continue unto his end, it is cleped
the finne of the Holy Goft. This horrible finne is
ſo perilous that he that is defpeired ther n'is no
felonie, ne no finne that he douteth for to do, as
fhewed wel by Judas. Certes aboven all finnes
than is this finne moſt difplefant and moſt ad-
verſarie to Crift. Sothly he that deſpeireth him
is like to the coward champion recreant that
Alieth withouten nede. Alas! alas! nedeles is
he recreant and nedeles defpeired. Certes the
mercy of God is ever redy to the penitent per-
fon, and is above all his werkes.
Alas! can-
not a man bethinke him on the Gofpel of Seint
Luke, chap. xv.; wheras Crift fayth, that as wel
fhal ther be joye in heven, upon a finful man that
doth penitence, as upon ninety-and-nine rightful
men that neden no penitence? Loke further in
the fame goſpel the joye and the feſte of the good
man that had loft his fone, whan his fone was re-
tourned with repentance to his fader. Can they
192
THE PERSONES TALE.
not remembre hem alfo (as fayth Seint Luke, ch.
xxiii.) how that the thefe that was honged befide
Jefu Crift fayd, Lord, remembre on me whan
thou comcft in thy regne? Forfoth, faid Criſt, I
fay to thee to-day fhalt thou be with me in Para-
dis. Certes ther is non fo horrible finne of man
that ne may in his lif be deftroyed by penitence
thurgh vertue of the paffion and of the deth of
Crift. Alas! what nedeth man than to be def-
peired, fith that his mercy is fo redy and large?
Axe and have. Than cometh fompnolence, that
is, fluggy flumbring, which maketh a man hevy
and dull in body and in foule, and this finne co-
meth of flouthe; and certes the time that by way
of refon man ſhuld not flepe is by the morwe, but
if ther were caufe refonable; for fothly in the
morwe tide is moſt covenable to a man to fay
his prayers, and for to think on God, and to ho-
nour God, and to yeve almeffe to the poure that
comen firſt in the name of Jefu Crift. Lo, what
fayth Salomon? Who fo wol by the morwe awake
to feke me he fhal find me. Than cometh negli-
gence or reccheleſneffe, that recketh of nothing;
and though that ignorance be mother of all harmes
certes negligence is the norice negligence ne
doth no force whan he fhal do a thing whether
he do it wel or badly.
:
|
Seint Bernard, and hath fwiche langour in lus
foule, that he may neyther rede ne fing in holy
chirche, ne here ne thinke of no devotion, ne tra-
vaile with his hondes in no good werk, that it n'is
to him unſavory and all appalled: than wexeth he
fluggish and flombry, and fone wol he be wroth,
and fone is he inclined to hate and to envie: than
cometh the finne of worldly forwe, fwiche as is
cleped Triftilia, that fleth a man as fayth Seint
Poule; for certes fwiche forwe werketh to the
deth of the foule and body alfo, for therof cometh
that a man is annoied of his owen lif, wherfore
fwiche forwe fhortcth the lif of many a man, o
that his time is come by way of kinde.
Remedium Accidie
Ayenſt this horrible finne of accidie, and the
braunches of he fame, ther is a vertue that is cal
led Fortitudo or Strength, that is, an affection
thurgh which a man defpifeth noyous thinges.
This vertue is fo mighty and fo vigorous, that it
dare withſtond mightily, and wraftle ayenft the
affautes of the devil, and wifely kepe himfelf fro
periles that ben wicked, for it enhaunfeth and en-
forceth the foule, right as accidie abateth and
maketh it feble; for this fortitudo may endure
with long fufferance the travailles that ben cove-
nable.
This vertue hath many fpices: the firft is cleped
Magnanimitee, that is to fay, gret corage; for
certes ther behoveth gret corage ayent accidie,
left that it ſwalowe the foule by the finne of forwe,
or deſtroy it with wanhope. Certcs this vertue
maketh folk to undertake hard and grevous
The remedie of thiſe two finnes is, as fayth the
wife man, that he that dredeth God ſpareth not
to do that him ought to do; and he that loveth
God he wol do diligence to plefe God by his
werkes, and abandon himſelf with all his might
wel for to do. Than cometh idelneffe, that is the
yate of all harmcs. An idel man is like to a place
that hath no walles, theras deviles may enter on
every fide, or shoot at him at difcoverte by temp-thinges by hir owen will wifely and refonably.
tation on every fide: this idelneffe is the thurrok
of all wicked and vilains thoughtcs, and of all jan-
geles, trifles, and all ordure: certes heven is yeven
to hem that will labour, and not to idel folk: alfo
David fayth, They ne be not in the labour of men,
ne they fhul not ben whipped with men, that is to
fay, in Purgatoric: certes than femeth it they fhul
ben tormented with the devil in helle but if they
do penance.
Than cometh the finne that men clepen Tarditas,
as whan a man is latered or taryed or he wol
tourne to God; and certes that is a gret folic: he
is like him that falleth in the diche and wol not
arife. And this vice cometh of falfe hope, that
thinketh that he fhal live long; but that hope
failleth ful oft.
Than cometh Lacheffe, that is he that whan he
beginneth any good werk, anon he wol forlete it
and flint, as don they that have any wight to go-
verne, and ne take of him no more kepe, anon as
they find any contrary or any annoy. Thife ben
the newe fhepherdes that let hir fhepe wetingly
go renne to the wolf that is in the breres, and do no
force of hir owen governance. Of this cometh
poverte and deftruction both of fpirituel and tem-
porel thinges: than cometh a maner coldneffe that
frefeth all the herte of man; than cometh undevo-
tion, thurgh which a man is fo blont, as fayth
|
And for as moche as the devil fighteth aycnft
man more by qucinteffe and fleight than by
ftrength, therfore fhal a man withſtond him by wit,
by refon, and by diſcretion. Than ben ther the
vertues of feith, and hope in God and in his feintes,
to acheven and accomplice the good werks, in the
which he purpofeth fermely to continue. Than
cometh feuretee or fikcrneffe, and that is whan a
man ne douteth no travaile in time coming of the
good werkes that he hath begonne: than cometh
magnificence, that is to fay, whan a man doth and
performcth gret werkes of goodneſſe that he hath
begonne, and that is the end why that men fhuld
do good werkes, for in the accompliſhing of good
werkes lieth the gret guerdon: than is ther con-
ſtance, that is ſtableneſſe of corage, and this fhuld
be in herte by ftedfaſt ſeith, and in mouth, and in
bering, in chere and in dede. Eke ther ben mo
fpecial remedies ayenft accidie, in divers werkes,
and in confideration of the peines of helle, and of
the joyes of heven, and in truft of the grace of the
Holy Goft, that will yeve him might to performe
his good entent.
De Avaritia.
After accidie wol I fpeke of avarice and of cove-
tife; of which finne Seint Poule fayth, The rote
THE PERSONES TALE.
193
of all harmes is coveitife; for fothly whan the
herte of man is confounded in itſelf and troubled,
and that the foule hath loft the comfort of God,
than feketh he an idel folas of worldly thinges.
Avarice, after the deſcription of Seint Auguf-
tine, is a likeroufneffe in herte to have erthly
thinges. Som other folk fayn that avarice is for to
purchafe many erthly thinges, and nothing to
yeve to hem that han nede. And underſtond wel
that avarice ftandeth not only in land ne catel,
but fom time in ſcience and in glorie, and in eve-
ry maner outrageous thing, is avarice: and the
difference betwene avarice and coveteife is this;
coveteiſe is for to coveit fwiche thinges as thou
haſt not, and avarice is to withholde and kepe
fwiche thinges as thou haſt without rightful nede.
Sothly this avarice is a finne that is ful dampnable,
for all holy writ curfeth it, and ſpeketh ayenft it,
for it doth wrong to Jefu Crift, for it bereveth
him the love that men to him owen, and tourneth
it backward ayenſt all refon, and maketh that the
avaricious man hath more hope in his catel than
in Jefu Criſt, and doth more obfervance in keping
of his trefour than he doth in the fervice of Jeſu
Crift; and therfore fayth Seint Poule, that an a-
varicio s man is the thraldome of idolatrie.
What difference is ther betwix an idolaftre and
an avaricious man, but that an idolaftre peraven-
ture ne hath not but o maumet or two, and the a-
varicious man hath many? for certes every florein
in his coffre is his maumet: and certes the finne
of maumetrie is the firft that God defended in the
ten commandments, as bereth witneffe, Exod. ch.
xx. Thou shalt have no falfe goddes before me,
ne thou ſhalt make to thee no graven thing. Thus
is an avaricious man that loveth his trefour before
God an idolaſtre. And thurgh this curſed finne
of avarice and coveitife cometh thiſe hard lord-
fhips thurgh which men ben diftreined by talla-
ges, cuſtomes, and cariages, more than hir dutee
or refon is; and eke take they of hir bondmen
amercementes, which might more refonably be
called extortions than amercementes; of which
amercementes, or ranfoming of bondmen, fom
lordes ftewardes fay that it is rightful; for as
moche as a cherl hath no temporel thing that it
ne is his lordes as they fay. But certes thife lord-
hippes don wrong, that bereven hir bondmen
thinges that they never yave hem. Auguftinus de
Civitate Dei, libro ix. Soth is that the condition of
thraldom, and the firſt cauſe of thraldom was for
finne. Genefis v.
Thus may ye fee that the gilt deſerved thral-
dom, but not nature; wherfore thife lordes ne
fhuld not to moche glorifie hem in hir lordſhipes,
fith that they by naturel condition ben not lordes
of hir thralles, but that thraldom came firft by the
deferte of finne. And furtherover, ther as the
lawe fayth that temporel goodes of bondfolk ben
the goodes of hir lord, ye, that is for to under-
ftond, the goodes of the emperour, to defend hem
in hir right, but not to robbe hem ne to reve
hem; therfore fayth Seneca, The prudent fhuld
live benignely with the thral, tho that thou clepeſt
thy thralles ben Goddes peple; for humble folk ben
VOL. I
Criftes frendes; they ben contubernial with the
Lord thy king.
Thinke alfo that of fwiche feed as cherles
fpringen, of fwiche feed ſpringen lordes; as wel
may the cherl be faved as the lord. The fame
deth that taketh the cherl fwiche deth taketh the
lord; wherfore I rede do right fo with thy cherl
as thou woldeſt that thy lord did with thee if thou
were in his plight. Every finful man is a cherl to
finne. I rede thee, thou lord, that thou reule thee
in fwiche wife that thy cherles rather love thee
than drede thee. I wote wel that ther is degrce
above degree, as refon is, and fkill is, that men
do hir devoir ther as it is due; but certes extor-
tion and deſpit of your underlinges is dampnable.
And furthermore, underſtond wel that thiſe con-
queroures or tyrantes maken ful oft thralles of
hem that ben borne of as royal blood as ben they
that hem conqueren. This name of Thiraldom
was never erft couthe til that Noc fayd that his
fone Cham fhuld be thrall to his brethren for his
finne. What ſay we than of hem that pille and
don extortions to holy chirche? Certes the fwerd
that men yeven firſt to a knight whan he is newe
dubbed fignifieth that he fhuld defend holy chirche,
and not robbe it ne pille it; and who fo doth is
traitour to Crift: as faith Seint Auguftine, Tho
ben the devils wolves that ftrangelen the fhepe of
Jefu Crift, and don worfe than wolves; for fothly
whan the wolf hath full his wombe he ſtinteth
to ſtrangle fhepe, but fothly the pillours and de-
ftroiers of holy chirches goodes ne do not fo, for
they ne ftint never to pille. Now, as I have fayd,
fith fo is that finne was firft caufe of thraldom,
than is it thus, that at the time that all this world
was in finne, than was all this world in thraldom
and in ſubjection: but certes fith the time of
grace came, God ordeined that fom folk fhuld be
more high in eftate and in degree, and fom folk
more lowe, and that everich fhuld be ferved
in his eftate and his degree: and therfore in fom
contrees ther as they ben thralles whan they have
tourned hem to the feith they make hir thralles
free out of thraldom; and therfore certes the lord
oweth to his man that the man oweth to the lord.
The Pope clepeth himſelf Servant of the fervants
of God; but for as moche as the eftate of holy
chirche ne might not have ben, ne the commun
profite might not have be kept, ne pees ne reſt
in erthe, but if God had ordeined that fom men
have higher degree and fom men lower, therfore
was foveraintee ordeined to kepe and mainteine,
and defend, hire underlinges or hire fubjectes in
refon, as ferforth as it lieth in hire power, and
not to deſtroy hem ne confound; wherfore I fay
that thilke lordes that ben like wolves, that de-
voure the poffeffions or the catel of poure folk
wrongfully, withouten mercy or mefure, they fhul
receive by the fame mefure that they have me-
fured to poure folk the mercy of Jefu Crift, but
they
they it amende. Now cometh deceit betwixt
marchant and marchant. And thou fhalt under-
ftond that marchandiſe is in two maners, that
on is bodily, and that other is goftly; that on is
honeft and leful, and that other is dishoneft and
N
194
THE PERSONES TALE.
unleful. The bodily marchandiſe, that is leful
and honeft, is this, that ther as God hath ordein-
ed that a regne or a contree is fuffifant to himſelf,
than it is honeſt and leful that of the haboundance
of this contree men helpe another contree that is
nedy; and therfore ther must be marchants to
bring fro on contree to another hir marchandiſe.
That other marchandife that men haunten with
fraude, and trecherie, and deceit, with lefinges
and falfe othes, is right curfed and dampnable.
Spirituel marchandife is proprely fimonie, that is,
ententif defire to buy thing fpirituel, that is, thing
which apperteineth to the feintuarie of God, and
to the cure of the foule. This defire, if fo be that
a man do his diligence to performe it, al be it that
his defire ne take non effect, yet it is to him a
dedly finne, and if he be ordered he is irregular.
Certes fimonie is cleped of Simon Magus, that
wold have bought for temporel catel the yefte
that God had yeven by the Holy Goft to Seint
Per and to the apoftles; and therfore under-
ftond ye, that both he that felleth and he that by-
eth thinges fpirituel ben called Simoniackes, be it
by catel, be it by procuring, or by flefly praier
of his frendes, flefhly frendes or fpirituel frendes,
fleſhly in two maners, as by kinrede or other
frendes; fothly if tliey pray for him that is not
worthy and able it is finionie, if he take the bene-
fice, and if he be worthy and able ther is non.
That other maner is whan man or woman pray-
eth for folk to advancen hem only for wicked
fleshly affection, which they have unto the per-
fons, and that is foule fimone;, but certes in fer-
vice, for which men yeven thinges fpirituel unto
hir fervants, it muſt be underſtonde that the fer-
vice must be honeft or elles not, and alfo that it
be without bargaining, and that the perfon be
able; for (as fayth Seint Damafcen). All the fin-
nes of the world, at regard of this finne, ben as
thing of naught, for it is the gretteft finne that
may be after the finne of Lucifer and of Anticriſt;
for by this finne God forleſeth the chirche and the
foule, which he bought with his precious blood,
hem that yeven chiches to hem that ben not digue,
for they put in theves, that fielen the foules of Jefu
Erift, and deftruyen his patrimonie. By fwiche
undigne preeftes and curates han lewed men leffe
reverence of the facraments of holy chirche; and
fwiche yevers of chirches put the children of Criſt
out, and put into chirches the divels owen fones;
they fellen the foules that lambes fhuld kepe to the
wolf, which ftrangleth hem, and therefore ſhall
they never have part of the paſture of lambes, that
is, in the bliffe of heven. Now cometh hafardrie,
with his apertenauntes, as tables and raffes, of
which cometh deceit, falfe othes, chidings, and
all raving, blafpheming, and reneying of God,
hate of his neyghbours, waft of goodes, mifpending
of time, and fomtime manflaughter. Certes ha-
fardours ne mow not be without gret finne. Of
avarice comen eke lefinges, theft, falfe witneffe,
and falfe othes; and ye fhul underſtonde that theſe
Be gret finnes, and expreffe ayenft the commande-
ments of God, as I have fayd. Falle witneffe is eke
in word and in dede; in word, as for to bereve thy
neighbours good name by thy falfe witneffe, cr
bereve him his catel or his heritage by thy falfe
witneffing, whan thou for ire, or for mede, or for
envie, bereft falfe witneffe, or accuſeft him, or ex-
cufeft thyfelf falfely. Ware, yc queftmongers and
notaries! certes for falfe witnefling was Sufanna in
ful gret forwe and peine, and many another mo.
The finne of theft is alfo expreffe ayenft Goddes
heft, and that in two maners, temporel and fpi-
rituel. The temporel theft is as for to take thy
neighbours catel. ayenft his will, be it by force or
by fleight, be it in meting or meſure, by fteling,
by falfe enditements upon him, and in borowing
of thy neighbours catel in entent never to pay it
ayen, and femblable thinges. Spirituel theft is
facrilege, that is to fay, hurting of holy thinges,
or of thinges facred to Crift, in two maners; by
refon of the holy place, as chirches or chirches
hawes; (for every vilains finne that men don in
fwiche places may be called facrilege, or every
violence in femblable places) alfo they that with-
drawe falfely the rentes and rightes that longen to
holy chirche; and plainly and generally, facrilegs
is to reve holy thing fro holy place, or unholy
thing out of holy place, or holy thing out of uns›
holy place.
Remedium Avaritiæ.
Now fhul ye underſtond that releving of ava
rice is mifericorde and pitee largely taken. And
men might axe why that mifericorde and pitce
are releving of avarice? Certes the avaricious
man fheweth no pitee ne mifericorde to the nede-
fül man, for he deliteth hint in the keping of his
trefour, and not in the refcouing ne releving of
his even Criften: and therfore fpeke I firft of
mifericorde. Than is mifericorde (as fayth the
philofophre) a vertue by which the corage of man
is ftirred by the mifefe of him that is mifefed; u-
pon. which mifericorde foloweth pitee, in perfor
byming and fulfilling of charitable werkes of mercie,
helping and comforting him that is mifefed.. And
certes this meveth a man to mifericorde of Jefu
Crift, that he yave himfelf for our offence, and.
fuffred deth for mifericorde, and foryaf us our o-
riginal finnes, and therby relefed us fro the peine
of hell, and amenufed the peines of Purgatory by
penitence, and yeveth us grace wel to do, and at
the laft the bliffe of heven. The ſpices of miferi-
corde ben for to lene, and eke for to yeve, and for
to foryeve and relefe, and for to have pitee in
herte, and compaffion of the mifchefe of his even
Criften, and alfo to chuftife ther as nede is. Ano-
ther maner of remedy ayenft avarice is refonable
largeffe; but fothly here behoveth the confider-
ation of the grace of Jefu Crift, and of the tem-
porel goodes, and alfo. of the goodes perdurable
that Jefu Crift yave to us, and to have remem-
brance of the deth which he fhal receive, he wot
not whan; and eke that he fhal forgon all that
he hath, fave only that which he hath difpended
in good werkes.
THE PERSONES TALË,
195
But fer as noche as fom folk ben unmefurable,
men oughten for to avoid and efchue fool-largeffe,
the whiche men clepen Wafte. Certes he that is
fool-large he yeveth not his catel, but he lefeth his
his catel: fothly what thing that he yeveth for vaine
glorie, as to minftrals, and to folk that bere his re-
nome in the world, he hath do finne therof, and non
almeffe: certes he lefeth foule his good that ne feketh
with the yefte of hir good nothing but finne: he is
like to an hors that ſeketh rather to drink drovy or
troubled water than for to drink water of the
clere well and for as moche as they yeven ther
as they fhuld nat yeven, to hem appertaineth
thilke malifon that Crift fhal yeve at the day of
dome to hem that fhul be dampned.
De Gulâ.
After avarice cometh glotonie, which is expreffe
ayenft the commandement of God. Glotonie is
umefurable appetit to ete or to drinke, or elles
to do in ought to the unmefurable appetite and
difordeined coveitife to ete or drinke. This finne
corrupted all this world, as is wel fhewed in the
finne of Adam and of Eve. Loke alſo what ſayth
Seint Poule of glotonie: Many (fayth he) gon,
of which I have ofte faid to you, and now I fay
it weping, that they ben the enemies of the croffe
of Crift, of which the end is deth, and of which
hir wombe is hir God and hir glorie, in confuſion
of hem that fo ferven erthly thinges. He that
that is ufant to this finne of glotonie, he ne may
no finne withſtond, he muſt be in ſervage of all
vices, for it is the devils horde ther he hideth him
and refteth. This finne hath many fpices: the
firſt is dronkenneffe, that is the horrible fepulture
of mannes refon, and therfore whan a man is
dronke he hath loft his refon; and this is dedly
inne; but fothly whan that a man is not wont
to ftrong drinkes, and peraventure ne knoweth
not the ftrength of the drinke, or hath feble-
neffe in his hed, or hath travailled, thurgh
which he drinketh the more, al be he fodenly
caught with drinke, it is no dedely finne
but venial. The fecond fpice of glotonie is, that
the fpirit of a man wexeth all trouble for dronk-
enneffe, and bereveth a man the difcretion of his
wit. The thridde ſpice of glotonie is whan a
man devoureth his mete, and hath not rightful
maner of eting. The fourthe is, whan thurgh
the gret abundance of his mete the humours in his
body ben diftempered. The fifthe is foryetful-
neffe by to moche drinking, for which fometime a
man forgeteth by the morwe what he did over eve.
In other maner ben diſtinct the ſpices of glot
onie, after Seint Gregorie. The firſt is for to ete
before time; the fecond is whan a man geteth
him to delicate mete or drinke; the thridde is
whan men taken to moche over mefure; the
fourth is curiofitee, with gret entent to maken
and appareille his mete; the fifth is for to ete
gredily. Thife ben the five fingers of the devils
hond, by which he draweth folk to the finne.
Remidium Gule.
Ayenft glotonie the remedie is abftinence, as
fayth Galien; but that I holde not meritorie, if
he do it only for the hele of his body. Seint
Auguftine wol that abftinence be don for
vertue, and with patience. Abftinence (fayth
he) is litel worth but if a man have good will
therto, and but it be enforced by patience and
charitce, and that men don it for Goddes fake,
and in hope to have the bliffe in heven..
The felawes of abftinence ben attemperance,
that holdeth the mene in alle thinges; alfo fhame,
that eſcheweth all difhoneftee; fuffifance, that
feketh no riche metes ne drinkes, ne doth no force
of non outrageous appareiiling of mete; mefurë
alſo, that reftreineth by reafon the unmefurable
appetit of eting; foberneffe alfo, that reftreineth
the outrage of drinke; fparing alfo, that reftrein-
eth the delicat cfe to fit long at mete, wherfore
ſom folk ſtanden of hir owen will whan they ete
becauſe they wol ete at leffe leifer.
De Luxurid.
After glotonie cometh lecherie, for thiſe two
finnes ben fo nigh colins that oft time they wol
not depart. God wote this finne is ful diſplefant
to God, for he ſaid himſelf, Do no lecherie; and
therfore he putteth gret peine ayenſt this finne :
for in the old lawe if a woman thrall were taken in
this finne, the fhuld be beten with ftaves to the deth,
and if the were a gentilwoman fhe ſhuld be flain with
ftones, and if the were a bifhoppes doughter the
fhuld be brent by Goddes commandement. More-
over, for the finne of lecherie God dreint all the
world, and after that he brent five cities with
thonder and lightning, and fanke hem doun into hell.
Now let us fpeke than of the faid ftinking finne
of lecherie, that men clepen Avoutrie, that is of
wedded folk, that is to fay, if that on of hem be
wedded or elles both. Seint John fayth, that
avouterers fhul ben in helle in a ftacke brenning
of fire and of brimstone; in fire for her lecherie, in
brimftone for the ftenche of hir ordure. Certes
the breking of this facrament is an horrible thing;
it was made of God himfelf in Paradis, and
confirmed by Jefu Crift, as witneffeth Seint Ma-
thew in the Goſpel; A man fhal let fader and
moder, and take him to his wif, and they fhal be
two in on flefh. This facrament bétokeneth the
knitting together of Crift and holy chirche. And
not only that God forbade avontrie in dede, but
allo he commanded that thou ſhuldeft not coveit
thy neighbours wif. In this hafte (fayth Seint
Auguftine) is forboden all maner coveitife to do
lecherie. Lo, what fayth Seint Mathew in the
Gospel, that who fo feeth a woman to coveitiſe
of his luft, he hath don lecherie with hire in his
herte. Here may ye fee that not only the dede
of this finne is forboden, but eke the defire to den
that finne. This curfed finne annoyeth grevoußy
ช
N ij
IGO
THE PARSONES TALE.
:
:
hem that it haunt and firſt to the foule, for he
obligeth it to finne and to peine of deth, which
is perdurable; and to the body annoyeth it
grevouſly alſo, for it drieth him and waſteth and
fhent him, and of his blood he maketh facrifice to
the fend of helle: it wafteth eke his catel and
his fubftance; and certes if it be a foule thing
a man to wafte his catel on women, yet is it a
fouler thing whan that for fwiche ordure women
difpenden upon men hir catel and hir fubftance.
This finne, as fayth the prophet, bereveth man
and woman hir good fame and all hir honour;
and it is ful plefant to the devil, for therby win-
neth he the mofte partie of this wretched world:
'and right as a marchant deliteth him moſt in that
chaffare which he hath moſt avantage and pro-
fite of, right fo deliteth the fend in this ordure
This is that other hond of the devil, with five
fingers, to cacche the peple to his vilanie. The
first fingre is the foole loking of the foole woman
and of the foole man, that fleth right as the
bafilicok fleth folk by venime of his fight, for the
coveitife of the cyen foloweth the coveitife of the
herte. The fecond fingre is the vilains touching
in wicked maner; and therfore fayth Salomon,
that whofo toucheth and handleth a woman he
fareth as the man that handleth the fcorpion,
which ftingeth and fodenly fleth thurgh his en-
veniming, or as who fo that toucheth warme
pitch it fhendeth his fingers. The thridde is foule
wordes, whiche fareth like fire, which right
anon brenneth the herte. The fourth finger is
kiffing, and trewely he were a gret foole that
wold kiffe the mouthe of a brenning oven or of
a fourneis; and more fooles ben they that kiñïen
in vilainie, for that mouth is the mouth of helle;
and namely thife olde dotardes holoures, which
wol kiffe and flicker, and befie hemfelf though
they may nought do: certes they ben like to
houndes, for an hound whan he cometh by the
rofer or by other bushes, though fo be that
he may not piffe, yet wol he heve up his leg
and make a contenance to piffe. And for that
many men weneth that he may not finne for
no likeroufneffe that he doth with his wif, trewe-
ly that opinion is falfe; God wot a man may
flee himſelf with his own knif and make him-
felf dronken of his owen tonne. Certes be it
wif, be it childe, or any worldy thing, that he
loveth before God, it is his maumet, and he is
an idolaftre. A man fhuld love his wif by dif-
cretion, patiently and attemprely and than is fhe
as though it were his fufter. The fifth fingre of
the divels hond is the ftinking dede of lecherie.
Trewely the five fingers of glotonie the fend
putteth in the wombe of a man, and with his
five fingers of lecherie he gripeth him by the
reines for to throwe him into the fourneis of helle,
ther as they fhul have the fire and the wormes
that ever fhul laften, and weping and wayling,
and fharpe hunger and thurst, and griflineffe of
divels whiche fhul all to-trede hem withouten
refpite and withouten ende. Of lecherie, as I
fayd, fourden and fpringen divers fpices; as for-
nication that is betwene man and woman which
!
ben not maried, and is dedly finne, and ayenſt
nature. All that is enemy and deftruction to
nature is ayenft nature. Parfay the reafon of a man
eke telleth him wel that it is dedly finne, for as
moche as God forbad lecherie; and Seint Poule
yeveth hem the regne that n'is dewe to no wight
but to hem that don dedely finne. Another fine
of lecherie is, to bereven a maid of hire meidenhed,
for he that fo doth, certes he cafteth a mayden
out of the highest degree that is in this prefent
lif, and bereveth hire thilke precious fruit that
the boo kclepeth the Hundreth Fruit; I ne can
fay it non otherwife in English, but in Latine it
hight Centefimus fructus. Certes he that fo doth is
the cauſe of many damages and vilanies mo than
any man can reken: right as he fomtime is cauſe
of all damages that beftes do in the feld that
breketh the hedge of the clofure, thurgh which he
deftroyeth that may not be restored; for certes
no more may maidenhed be restored than an arme
that is ſmitten fro the body may returne ayen
and wexe fhe may have mercy, this wot I wel,
if that ſhe have will to do penitence, but never
fhal it be but that fhe is corrupte. And all be it
fo that I have fpoke fomwhat of avoutrie, it is
good to fhewe the periles that longen to avoutrie,
for to efchewe that foule finne.
that foule finne. Avoutre, in
Latine, is for to faye, approching of another man-
nes bedde, thurgh whiche tho that fomtime were
on fleſhe abandone hir bodies to other perfons.
Of this finne, as fayth the wife man, folow many
harmes firfte breking of feith and certes feith
is the key of Criftendom, and whan that key is
broken and lorne fothly Criftendom is lorne, and
ftont vaine and without fruit: This finne alfo is
theft, for theft generally is to reve a wight his
thinges ayenft his will. Certes this is the fouleſt
theft that may be whan that a woman fteleth hire
body from her hufbond, and yeveth it to hire holour
to defoule it, and fteleth hire foule fro Crift and
yeveth it to the devil: this is a fouler thefte than for
to breke a chirche and ftele away the chalice;
for thife avouterers breken the temple of God
fpirituelly, and ftelen the veffell of grace, that is,
the body and the foule, for whiche Crifte fhal de-
ftroy hem, as fayth Seint Poule. Sothly of this
theft douted gretly Jofeph, whan that his lordes
wif prayed him of vilainie, whan he fayde, Lo,
my Lady, how my Lord hath take to me under
my warde all that he hath in this world, ne no-
thing is out of my power but only ye, that ben his
wif: and how fhuld I then do this wickedneffe, and
finne fo horribly ayenft God and ayenft my Lord?
Godit forbede! Alas! all to litelis fwiche trouth now
yfounde! The thridde harme is the filth thurgh
which they breke the commandement of God and de-
foule the auter of matrimonies, that is Crift; for
certes info moche as the facrament of mariage isfo
noble and fo digne, ſo mòche is it the greter finne
forto breke it, for God made mariage in Paradis, in
the eftate of innocencie, to multiplie mankinde
to the fervice of God, and therfore is the breking
therof the more grevous, of which breking come
falfe heires oft time, that wrongfully occupien
folkes heritages, and therfor wol Crift put hen
THE PERSONES TALE.
197
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out of the regne of heven, that is heritage to good
folk. Of this breking cometh eke oft time that
folk unware wedde or finne with hir owen
kindrede; and namely thiſe harlottes that haunten
bordelles of thiſe foul women that may he likened
helikened
to a commune gong wheras men purge hir ordure
What fay we alfo of putours, that live by the
horrible finne of puterie, and conftrein women
to yelde hem a certain rent of her bodily putrie, |
ye, fomtime his owen wif or his childe, as don
thiſe baudes? Certes thife ben curfed finnes.
Underftond alfo that avourie is fet in the ten com-
mandements betwene theft and manslaughter, for
it is the greteft theft that may be, for it is theft of
body and of foule : and it is like to homicide, for it
kerveth atwo and breketh atwo hem that firſt
were made on fleſh; and therfore by the old lawe
of God they thuld be flaine, but natheleffe by the
lawe of Jefu Crift, that is the lawe of pitee, whan
he fayd to the woman that was found in avoutrie,
and fhuld have be flain with ftones, after the will
of the Jewes, as was hir lawe, Go, faid Jefu Crift,
and have no more will to do finne. Sothly the
vengeance of avoutrie is awarded to the peine of
belle, but if fo be that it be difcombered by
penitence. Yet ben ther mo fpices of this curfed
finne, as whan that on of hem is religious, or
elles both; or of folk that ben entered into ordere,
as fub-deken, deken, or preeft, or hofpitalers;
and ever the higher that he is in ordre the greter
is the finne. The thinges that gretely agrege hir
finne is he breking of hir avow of chaftitee
whan they received the ordre. And moreover,
foth is that holy ordre is chefe of all the treforie
of God, and is a fpecial figne and marke of
chaftitee, to fhew that they ben joined to
chaîtitee, which is the mofte precious lif that is.
And thiſe ordered folk ben ſpecially titled to God,
and of the ſpecial meinie of God, for which whan
they don dedly finne they ben the ſpecial trai-
tours of God and of his peple, for they live by
the peple to praye for the peple, and whiles they
ben fwiche traitours hir prayeres availe not to the
peple. Preeftes ben as angels as by the myſterie
of hir dignitee; but forfoth Seint Poule faith
that Sathanas transfourmeth him in an angel of
light. Sothly the preeft that haunteth dedly
finne he may be likened to an angel of derkneffe
transfourmed into an angel of light; he femeth
an angel of light, but for foth he is an angel of
darkneffe. Swiche preeftes be the fones of Hely,
as is fhewed in the Book of Kinges that they
were the fonnes of Belial, that is the divel.
Belial is to fay withouten juge, and fo faren they;
hem thinketh that they be free, and have no juge,
no more than hath a free boll, that taketh which
cow that him liketh in the toun. So faren they by
women, for right as on free boll is ynough for
all a toun, right fo is a wicked preeft corruption
ynough for all a parish or for all a countree. Thife
preeftes, as fayth the book, ne cannot minifter the
myfterie of preefthood to the peple, ne they knowe
not God, ne they hold hem not apaied, as faith
the book, of fodden fleſh that was to hem offred,
but they take by force the flesh that is raw. Certes
|
right fo thiſe fhrewes ne hold hem not apaied of roft-
ed fleſh and fodden with which the peple feden hem
in gret reverence, but they wol have raw fleſh,
as folkes wives and hir doughters. And certes
thiſe women that confenten to hir harlotrie don
gret wrong to Criſt and to holy chirche, and to
all halowes and to all foules, for they bereven all
thiſe hem that inuld worship Crift and toly
chirche, and pray for Criſten foules; and therfore
han fwiche preeftes, and hir lemmans alfo that
confenten to hir lecherie, the malifon of the court
Criften til they come to amendement. The
thridde fpice of avoutrie is fomtime betwixt a man
and his wif, and that is whan they take no regard
in hir affembling but only to hir fleſhly delit, as
faith Seint Jerome, and ne recken of nothing but
that they ben affembled becauſe they ben maried:
all is good ynough, as thinketh to hem. But in
fwiche folk hath the divel power, as faid the angel
Raphael to Tobie, for in hir affembling they
putten Jefu Crift out of hir herte, and yeven
themſelf to all ordure. The fourth fpice is of hem
that affemble with hir kindrede, or with hem
that ben of an affinitee, or elles with hem with
which hir fathers or hir kinred have deled in the
finne of lecherie : this finne maketh hem like to
houndes, that taken no kepe of kindrede, And
certes parentele is in two maners, eyther goftly
or fleshly; goftly is for to delen with hir god-
fibbes; for right fo as he that engendreth a child
is his fleſhly father, right fo is his godfather his
father fpirituel, for which a woman may in no
leffe finne affemble with hire godfib than with
hire owen fleshly broder. The fifthe fpice is that
abhominable finne of which abhominable finne
no man unneth
unneth ought to fpeke ne write,
natheles it is openly reherfed in holy writ.
This curfedneffe don men
and women in
diverſe entent and diverfe maner: but though
that holy writ fpeke of horrible finne, certes holy
writ may not be defouled, no more than the
fonne that ſhineth on the myxene. Another finne
apperteineth to lecherie that cometh in fleping,
and this finne cometh often to hem that ben
maidens, and eke to hem that ben corrupt and
this finne men call Pollution, that cometh of
four maners: fomtime it cometh of languiſhing
of the body, for the humours ben to ranke and
haboundant in the body of man; fomtime of in-
firmitee, for febleneffe of the virtue retentif, as
phitike maketh mention; fomtime of furfet of
met and drinke; and fomtime of vilains thoughtes
that ben enclofed in mannes minde whan he
goth to flepe, which may not be withouten finne,
for whiche men muſt kepe hem wifely, or elles
may they finne ful grevouſly.
Remedium Luxurie.
Now cometh the remedy ayenft lecherie, and
that is generally chaſtitee and continence; that
reftraineth all difordinate mevings that comen of
fleshly talents, and ever the greter merite ſhal he
have that moſt reſtraineth the wicked enchaufing
Niij
198
THE PERSONES TALE.
honeftee, and ben attempre of hire array. I wete
wel that they fhuld fet hir entent to plefe hir
hufbonds, but not by queintife of hir array. Seint
Jerom fayth, Wives that ben appareilled in filke
and precious purple ne mow not cloth hem in Je-
fu Crift: Seint Gregorie fayth alſo, that no wight
feketh precious array but only for vain glorie, to
be honoured the more of the peple. It is a gret
folie a woman to have a faire array outward and
hirefelf to be foule inward. A wif fhuld alſo be
or ardure of this finne; and this is in two maners,
that is to fay, chastitee in mariage and chaftitee
in widewhood. Now fhalt thou underſtonde that
matrimony is leful affembling of man and woman
that receiven by vertue of this facrement the
bonde thurgh whiche they may not be departed in
all hir lif, that is to fay, while that they live
bote. This, as faith the book, is a ful gret fa-
crement; God made it (as I have faid) in Para-
dis, and wold himſelf be borne in mariage; and
for to halowe mariage he was at a wedding wher-mefurable in loking, in bering, and in laughing,
as he tourned water into wine, whiche was the and difcrete in all hire wordes and hire dedes,
firſt miracle that he wrought in the erthe before and above all worldly thinges fhe fhulde love hire
his difciples. The trewe effect of mariage clenf- huſbonde with all hire herte, and to him be trewe
eth fornication, and replenisheth holy chirche of of hire body; fo fhuld every huſbond eke be trewe
good lignage, for that is the ende of mariage, and to his wif; for fith that all the body is the huf-
chaungeth dedly finne into venial finne betwene bondes fo fhuld hire herte be alfo, or elles ther is
hem that ben wedded, and maketh the hertes all betwix hem two, as in that, no parfit mariage.
on of hem that ben ywedded as wel as the bodies. Than fhul men underſtond that for three thinges
This is veray mariage that was established by God a man and his wif flefhly may affemble. The firft is
er that finne began, whan naturel lawe was in for the entent of engendrure of children, to the
his right point in Paradis; and it was ordeined ſervice of God, for certes that is the cauſe final
that o man fhuld have but o woman, and o wo- of matrimonic: another caufe is to yelde eche of
man but o man, as fayth Seint Auguftine, byhem to other the dettes of hir bodies, for neyther
many refons.
of hem hath power of hir owen hodie: the
Firft, for mariage is figured betwix Crift and thridde is for to efchew lecheric and vilanie: the
holy chirche; and another is, for a man is hed of fourth is for foth dedly finne. As to the firſt,
the woman, (algate by ordinance it fhuld be fo) it is meritorie; the fecond alfo, for, as fayth the
for if a woman had mo men than on than fhuld decree, She hath merite of chaſtitee that yeldeth
fhe have mo hedes than on, and that were an ho- to hire hufbond the dette of hire body, ye, though
rible thing before God; and alfo a woman mighte it be ayenft hire liking and the luft of hire herte.
not plefe many folk at ones; and alfo ther fhuld The thridde maner is venial finne. Trewely
never be pees ne reft among hem, for everich of fcarcely may any of thiſe be without venial finne
hem wold axe his owen right. And furthermore, for the corruption and for the delit therof. The
|
no man fhulde knowe his owen engendrure, ne fourth mancr is for to underſtond, if the affenible
who fhuld have his heritage, and the woman fhuld only for amourous love and for non of the fore-
be the leffe beloved for the time that he were faid caufes, but for to accompliſh hir brenning
conjunct to many men.
delit, they recke not how oft, fothly it is dedly
finne; and yet with forwe fom folk wol peine
hem more to do than to hir appetit fufficeth.
Now cometh how that a man fhuld bere him
with his wif, and namely in two thinges, that is
to fay, in fuffrance and in reverence, and this The fecond maner of chaſtitee is for to be a
fhewed Crift whan he first made woman; for he clene widew, and eſchue the embracing of a man,
ne made hire of the hed of Adam, for the fhuld and defire the embracing of Jefu Crift. Thife
not claime to gret lordfhippe, for ther as the wo-ben tho that have ben wives, and have forgon hir
man hath the maiſtrie fhe maketh to moche dif-
array; ther nede non enfamples of this, the ex-
perience that we have day by day ought ynough
fuffice: alfo certes God ne made not woman of
the foot of Adam, for fhe fhuld not be holden to
lowe, for fhe cannot patiently fuffer; but God
made woman of the rib of Adam, for woman
fhuld be felaw unto man. Man fhuld bere him
to his wif in feith, in trouth, and in love, as
fayth Seint Poule, that a man fhuld love his wif
as Crift loved holy chirche, that loved it fo wel
that he died for it: fo fhuld a man for his wif, if
it were nede.
Now how that a woman fhuld be fubget to hire
huſbond that telleth Seint Peter: firft in obedi-
ence; and eke, as fayth the decree, A woman
that is a wif, as long as the is a wif, the hath non
auctoritee to fwere ne bere witneffe without leve
of hire hufbonde, that is hire lord, algate he fhuld
be fo by refon: the fhulde alfo ferve him in all
hufbondes, and cke women that have don leche-
rie, and ben releved by penance and certes if
that a wif coud kepe hire all chaft, by licence of
hire hufbond, fo that the yeve no caufe ne non
occafion that he agilted, it were to hire a grete
merite. This maner of women, that obferven
chaftitee, must be clene in herte as wel as in body,
and in thought, and mefurable in clothing and in
contenance, abftinent in eting and drinking, in
fpeking, and in dede, and than is the the veffel or
the boifte of the bleffed Magdeleine, that fulfil-
leth holy chirche of good odour. The thridde
maner of chaſtitee is virginitee; and it behoveth
that ſhe be holy in herte and clene of body; than
is the the fpoufe of Jefu Crift, and fhe is the lif
of angels; he is the preifing of this world, and
fhe is as thife martirs in egalitee; fhe hath in hire
that tongue may not telle, ne herte thinke. Vir
ginitee bare our Lord jefu Crift, and virgin was
himſelf.
THE PERSONES
199
TALE.
Another remedie againſt lecherie is ſpecially to
withdrawe ſwiche thinges as yeven occafion to
that vilanie, as eſe, eting, and drinking; for cer-
tes whan the pot boileth ſtrongly the beſt remedie
is to withdrawe the fire. Sleping long in gret
quiet is alſo a gret nourice to lecherie.
Another remedie ayenft lecherie is, that a man
or a woman eſchewe the compagnie of hem by
which he douteth to be tempted; for all be it fo
that the dede be withftonden, yet is ther gret
temptation. Sothly a white wall, although it ne
brenne not fully with ſticking of a candle, yet is
the wall black of the leyte. Ful oft time I rede
fat no man truft in his owen perfection but he
be ſtronger than Sampfon, or holier than David,
or wifer than Salomon,
Now after that I have declared you as I can of
the Seven Dedly Sinnes, and fom of hir braunches,
and the remedies, fothly if I coude I wold tell
you the ten commandements; but fo high doc-
trine I lete to divines: natheles I hope to God
they ben touched in this tretife everich of hem alle. |
Now for as moche as the fecond part of peni-
tence ftont in confeſſion of mouth, as I began in
the first chapitre, I fay Seint Auguftine faith,
Sinne is every word and every dede, and all that
men covetein, ayenft the law of Jefu Crift; and
this is for to finne in herte, in mouth, and in
dede, by the five wittes, which ben fight, her-
ing, fmelling, tafting or favouring, and feling.
Now is it good to underſtond the circumftances
that agregen moche every finne, Thou fhalt con-
ficer what thou art that doft the finne, whether
thou be male or female, yonge or olde, gentil or
thrall, free or fervant, hole or fike, wedded or
fingle, ordered or unordered, wife or foole, clerk
or feculer, if the be of thy kinred bodily or goftly
or non, if any of thy kinred have finned with hire
or no, and many mo thinges.
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in finne he deſpiſeth the mercy of God, and en-
crefeth his finne, and is unkind to Crift, and he
waxeth the more feble to withſtand finne, and
finneth the more lightly, and the later ariſeth,
and is more flow to fhrive him, and namely to
him that hath ben his confeffour; for which that
folk, whan they fall ayen to hir old folies, either
they forleten hir old confeffour al utterly, or elles
they departen hir ſhrift in divers places: but fothly
fwiche departed fhrift deferveth no mercie of God
for hir finnes. The fixte circumftance is, why
that a man finneth, as by what temptation, and
if himſelf procure thilke temptation, or by exciting
of other folk, or if he finne with a woman by
force or by hire owen affent, or if the woman
maugre hire hed have ben enforced or non; this
fhal fhe tell, and wheder it were fer coveitiſe or
poverte, and if it were by hire procuring or non,
and fwiche other thinges. The feventh circum-
ftance is, in what maner he hath don his finne, or
how that ſhe hath fuffered that folk have don to
hire: and the ſame ſhal the man tell plainly, with
all the circumſtances, and wheder he hath finned
with commun bordel women or non, or dun his
finne in holy times or non, in fafting times or non,
or before his fhrift, or after his later fhrift, and
hath peraventure broken therby his penance en-
joined, by whos helpe or whos confeil, by forcerie
or crafte; all must be told. All thife thinges,
after that they ben gret or fmale, engreggen the
confcience of man or woman. And eke the
preeft that is thy juge may the better be aviſed
of his jugement in yeving of penance, and that
fhal be after thy contrition: for underftond wel
that after the time that a man hath defouled his
baptifme by finne, if he wol come to falvation, ther
is non other way but by penance, and fhrifte, and
fatisfaction; and namely by tho two, if ther be z
confeffour to whom he may fhrive him, and that
he first be veray contrite and repentant, and the
thridde if he have lif to performe it.
Another circumftance is this, whether it be don
in fornication or in advoutrie or no, in maner of
homicide or non, a horrible gret finne or final, Than fhal a man loke and confider that if he
and how long thou haft continued in finne. The wol make a trewe and a profitable confeffion ther
thridde circumſtance is the place ther thou haft muſt be foure conditions. Firſt, it muſt be in
don finne, whether in other mennes houfes or forowful bitterneffe of herte, as fayth the King
in thin owen, in feld, in chirche, or in chirch- Ezechiel to God, I wol remember all the yeres of
hawe, in chirche dedicate or non; for if the my lif in the bitterneffe of my herte. This con-
chirche be halowed, and man or woman fpille dition of bitterneffe hath five fignes; the first is
his kinde within that place, by way of finne or that confeßion must be fhamefaft, not for to co-
by wicked temptation, the chirche were enterdi- vern ne hide his finne, but for he hath agilted his
ted til it were reconciled by the bishop; and if God and defouled his foule; and hereof fayth
it were a preeft that did fwiche vilanie, the terme Seint Auguftin, The herte travaileth for ſhame of
of all his lif he fhuld no more fing maffe; and if his fiane, and for he hath gret fhamefaſtneſſe he is
he did he fhuld do dedly finne at every time that digne to have gret mercie of God. Swiche was
he fo fong maffe. The fourthe circumftance is the confeffioun of the Publican that wold not heve
by whiche mediatours, as by meffagers, or for en- up his eyen to heven, for he had offended God of
ticement, or for confentment, to bere compagnie heven, for which ſhamefaſtneſſe he had anon the
with felawfhip, for many a wretche for to bere mercy of God; and therefore faith Seint Auguf-
felawfhip wol go to the divel of helle; wherfore tine, that fwiche faamefaft folk ben next foryeve◄
they that eggen or confenten to the finne benneffe and mercy, Another figne is humilitee in
partners of the finne, and of the dampnation of
the finger. The fifth circumftance is, how many
times that he hath finned, if it be in his minde,
and how oft he hath fallen; for he that oft falleth
confeffion, of whiche fayth Scint Peter, Humbleth
you under the might of God; the hond of God is
mighty in confeflion, for therby God foryeveth
thee thy finnes, for he alone hath the power. And
N iiij
200
THE PERSONES TALE.
this humilitee fhal be in herte and in figne out-
warde; for right as he hath humilitee to God in
his herte, right fo fhuld he humble his body out-
ward to the preeft that fitteth in Goddes place;
for which in no maner, fith that Crift is foveraine,
and the preeft mene and mediatour betwixt Criſt
and the finner, and the finner is laft by way of
refon, than fhuld not the finner fitte as high as
his confeffour, but knele before him or at his feet,
but if maladie diftrouble it; for he fhal not take
kepe who fitteth ther, but in whos place he fitteth.
A man that hath trefpaffed to a lord, and cometh
for to axe mercie and maken his accorde, and fet-
teth him doun anon by the lord, men wolde holde
him outrageous, and not worthy fo fone for to
have remiflion ne mercy. The thridde figne is,
that the ſhrift fhuld be ful of teres, if men mowen
wepe, and if they mowe not wepe with hir bodily
eyen, than let hem wepe in hir herte : fwiche was
the confeffion of Seint Peter, for after that he
had forfake Jefu Crift he went out and wept ful
bitterly. The fourth figne is that he ne lete not
for fhame to fhrive him and fhewe his confeffion;
fwiche was the confeffion of Magdeleine, that ne
fpared for no fhame of hem that weren at the
fefte to go to our Lord Jefu Criſt, and beknowe
to him hire finnes. The fifthe figne is, that a
man or a woman be obeifant to receive the penance
that hem is enjoined, for certes Jefu Crift for the
gilt of man was obedient to the deth.
underſtonde, in entent to depart thy confeffion for
fhame or drede, for it is but ftrangling of thy
foule; for certes Jefu 'Crift is entierly all good,
in him is non imperfection, and therfore either he
foryeveth all parfitly or elles never a dele. I fay not
that if thou be affigned to thy penitencer for cer-
tain finne that thou art bounde to fhewe him all
the remenant of thy finnes of whiche thou haft
ben fhriven of thy curat but if it like thee of thyn
humilitee; this is no departing of fhrift: ne I fay
not, ther as I fpeke of divifion of confeffion, that if
thou have licence to fhrive thee to a difcrete and
an honeft preeft, and wher thee liketh, and by the
licence of thy curat, that thou ne mayeft wel fhrive
thee to him of all thy finnes : but lete no blot be
behind; let no finne be untolde as fer as thou haft
remembrance. And whan thou shalt be fhriven
of thy curat tell him eke all the finnes that thou
haft don fith thou were lafte fhriven: this is no
wicked entente of divifion of fhrift.
Alfo the veray fhrift axeth certain conditions.
Firſt, that thou fhrive thee by thy free will, not
conftreined, ne for fhame of folk, ne for maladie,
or fwiche other thinges, for it is refon that he that
trefpaffeth by his free will, that by his free will he
confeffe his trefpas, and that non other man telle
his finne but himfelf; ne he fhal not nay ne
deny his finne, ne wrath him ayenſt the preeſt for
amonefting him to lete his finne. The fecond
condition is, that thy fhrift be lawful, that is to fay,
that thou that fhriveft thee, and eke the preef that
hereth thy confeffion, be veraily in the feith of ho-
chirche, and that a man ne be not difpeired of
the mercie of Jefu Crift, as Cain and Judas were.
And eke a man mufte accufe himfelf of his owen
trefpas, and not another; but he fhal blame and
wite himfelfe of his owen malice and of his finne,
and non other: but natheles if that another mant
be enchefon or enticer of his finne, or the eſtate of
the perſon be ſwiche by which his finne is agreg-
ged, or elles that he may not plainly fhrive him
but he tell the perfon with whiche he hath finned,
than may he tell, fo that his entent ne be not to
backbite the perfon, but only to declare his con-
feffion.
The ſecond condition of veray confeffion is, that
it be hastily don; for certes if a man hadde a dedly
wound, ever the lenger that he taried to warifhely
himſelf the more wold it corrupt and hafte him
to his deth, and alſo the wound wol be the werſe
for to hele. And right fo fareth finne that long
time is in a man unfhewed: certes a man ought
haftily to fhewe his finne for many caufes; as for
drede of deth, that cometh oft fodenly, and is in no
certain what time it fhal be, ne in what place; and
eke the drenching of o finne draweth in another;
and alfo the lenger that he tarieth, the ferther is he
fro Crift; and if he abide to his laſt day ſcarcely
may he fhrive him, or remembre him of his finnes,
or repent him for the grevous maladie of his
deth. And for as moche as he ne hath in his lif
herkened Jefu Crift whan he hath ſpoken unto
him, he fhal crie unto our Lord at his laſt day,
and fcarcely wol he herken him. And under-
ftonde that this condition mufte have foure
thinges; firſt that the fhrift be purveyed afore,
and aviſed, for wicked haft doth not profite; and
that a man con fhrive him of his finnes, be it of
pride, or envie, and fo forth, with the ſpices and
circumſtances, and that he have comprehended in
his minde the nombre and the gretneffe of his
finnes, and how longe he hath lien in finne, and
eke that he be contrite for his finnes, and be in
ftedfaſt purpoſe (by the grace of God) never efte
to fall into finne; and alfo that he drede and
countrewaite himſelf that he flee the occafions of
finne to which he is inclined: alfo thou shalt fhrive
thee of all thy finnes to o man, and not parcelmele
to o man and parcelmele to another; that is to
گی
Thou ne ſhalt not alfo make no lefinges in thy
confeffion for humilitee, peraventure to fay that
thou haft committed and don fwiche finnes of
which that thou ne were never gilty; for Seint
Auguftine fayth, If that thou, becauſe of thin hu-
militee, makeft a lefing on thyſelf, though thou
were not in finne before yet arte thou than in finne
thurgh thy lefing. Thou muſt alſo fhew thy finne
by thy propre mouth, but thou be dombe, and not
by no letter; for thou that haft don the finne thou
fhalt have the ſhame of the confeflion. Thou shalt
not eke peint thy confeffion with faire and fubtil
wordes, to cover the more thy finne, for than be-
gileft thou thyfelf and not the preeſt thou muſt
telle it plainly, be it never fo foule ne fo horrible.
Thou shalt eke fhrive thee to a preeft that is dif
crete to confeille thee; and eke thou shalt not
fhrive thee for vaine glorie, ne for ypocrifie, ne for
no cauſe, but only for the doute of Jefu Crift and
:
THE PERSONES TALE.
201
the hele of thy foule. Thou shalt not eke renne to
the preeft al fodenly to tell him lightly thy finne,
as who telleth a jape or a tale, but avifedly and
with good devotion; and generally fhrive thee
ofte if thou ofte fall, ofte arife by confeffion. And
though thou fhrive thee ofter than ones of finne
which thou haft be ſhriven of it is more merite;
an, as fayth Seint Auguftine, Thou shalt have the
more lightly relefe and grace of God both of finne
and of peine. Ard certes ones a yere at the left way
it is lawful to be houfeled, for fothely ones a yere
all things in the erthe renovelen.
Explicit fecunda pars penitentia, et fequitur tertia pars.
Now have I told you of veray confeffion, that is
the feconde part
part of penitence; the thridde
the thridde part is
fatisfaction, and that ftont moft gencrally in al-
meffe dede and in bodily peine. Now ben ther
three maner of almeffe; contrition of herte, wher
a man offreth himſelf to Ged; another is to have
pitee of the defaute of his neighbour; and the
thridde is in yeving of good confeil goftly and
bodily wher as men have nede, and namely in fuf-
tenance of mannes food. And take kepe that a
man hath nede of thife thinges generally; he hath
nede of food, of clothing, and of herberow, he hath
nede of charitable confeilling and viſiting in priſon
and in maladie, and fepulture of his ded body. And
if thou maieft not vifite the nedeful in prifon in
thy perfon, viſite hem with thy meffage and thy
yefies: thife ben generally the almeffes and werkes
of charitee of hem that have temporel richeffes or
diſcretion in confeilling. Of thife werkes fhalt
thou heren at the day of dome.
This almeffe fhuldeft thou do of thy propre
thinges, and haftily and prively, if thou mayeft;
but natheles if thou mayeft not do it prively thou
fhalt not forbere to do almeffe though men fee it,
ſo that it be not don for thanke of the world, but
only to have thanke of Jefu Crift; for, as witnef.
feth Seint Mathewe, chap. v. A citee may not be
hid that is fette on a mountaine, ne men light not a
lanterne to put it under a bufhell, but fetten it upon
a candleſticke, to lighten the men in the hous:
right fo fhal your light lighten before men, that
they mowe fee your good werkes, and glorifie
your fader that is in heven.
Now as for to ſpeke of bodily peine, it ftont in
praiers, in waking, in fafting, and in vertuous
teching. Of orifons ye fhul underſtond, that ori-
fons or prayers is to fay a pitous will of herte, that
fetteth it in God, and expreffeth it by word outward
to remeve harmes, and to have thinges fpirituel
and perdurable, and fomtime temporel thinges;
of which orifons certes in the orifon of the Pater
nofter hath Jefu Crift encloſed moft thinges: certes
it is privileged of three thinges in his dignitee, for
whiche it is more digne than any other prayer,
for that Jefu Crift himſelf made it; and it is fhort,
for it fhuld be coude the more lightly, and to hold
it the more efie in herte, and helpe himfelf the
ofter with this orifon, and for a man fhuld be the
leffe wery to fay it, and for a man may not excufe
¡
him to lerne it, it is fo fhorte and ſo efie, and for i
comprehendeth in himſelf all good prayers. The
expofition of this holy prayer, that is ſo excellent
and fo digne, I berake to the maifters of theologie;
ſave thus moche wol I fay, that whan thou prayeſt
that God fhuld foryeve thee thy giltes as thou for-
yeveſt hem that have agilted thee, be wel ware
that thou be not out of charitee. This holy orifon
amenufeth eke venial finne, and therfore it apper-
teineth fpecially to penitence.
This prayer muſt be trewely fayd, and in perfect
feith, and that men prayen to God ordinately, dif-
cretely, and devoutly : and alway a man fhal put
his will to be fubgette to the will of God. This
orifon muſt eke be fayd with gret humbleffe, and
ful pure and honeſtly, and not to the annoyance of
any man or woman: it muſt eke be continued with
werkes of charitee: it availeth eke ayenſt the vi-
ces of the foule; for, as fayth Seint Jerome, By
fafting ben faved the vices of the fiefh, and by
prayer the vices of the foule.
After this thou shalt underftonde that bodily
peine ftont in waking; for Jefu Crift fayth, Wake
ye and pray ye that ye ne enter into wicked temp-
tation. Ye fhul underftond alfo that faſting
ftont in three thinges, in forbering of bodily mete
and drinke, in forbering of worldly jolitee, and
in forbering of dedly finne; this is to ſay, that a
man ſhall kepe him fro dedly finne with all his
might.
And thou fhalt underſtond alfo that God or-
dained fafting, and to faſting appertaineth foure
thinges; largeneffe to poure folk, gladneſſe of
herte fpirituel, not to be angry ne annoied, ne
grutch for he fafteth, and alfo refonable houre
for to ete by mefure, that is to fay, a man fhal
not ete in untime, ne fit the longer at the table
for he fafteth.
Than fhalt thou underſtonde that bodily
peine ftont in difcipline, or teching by word or
by writing, or by enfample, alfo in wering of here
or of ftamin, or of habergeons, on hir naked flesh
for Criftes fake. But ware thee wel that fwiche
maner penance. ne make not thin herte bitter or
angry, ne annoied of thyfelf, for better is to caſt
away thin here, than to caft away the fwetneffe of
our Lord Jefu Crift; and therfore fayth Seint
Poule, Clothe you as they that ben chofen of God in
herte, of mifericorde, debonairtee, fuffrance, and
fwiche maner of clothing, of which Jefu Crift is
more plefed than with the heres or habergeons.
Than is diſcipline eke in knocking of thy breft,
in fcourging with yerdes, in kneling, in tribula-
tion, in fuffring patiently wronges that ben don
to thee, and eke in patient fuffring of maladies, or
lefing of worldly cattle, or wif, or child, or other
friendes.
Than fhalt thou underftond which thinges
diftourben penance, and this is in foure maners
that is, drede, fhame, hope, and wanhope, that is,
defperation. And for to ſpeke first of drede;
for which he weneth that he may fuffer no pen-
ance, ther ayent is remedie for to thinke that
bodily penance is but fhort, and litel at regard of
4
1
202
THE PERSONES TALE.
the peine of helle, that is fo cruel and fo long, that
it lafteth withouten ende.
Now ayenſt the ſhame that a man hath to fhrive
him, and namely thiſe ipocrites, that wold be
holden fo parfit that they have no nede to fhrive
hem, ayenft that ſhame fhuld a man thinke, that
by way of refon he that hath not ben afhamed to
do foule thinges, certes him ought not be ashamed
to do faire thinges, and that is confeflions. Aman |
fhuld alfo think that God feeth and knoweth al
his thoughtes, and al his werkes, and to him may
nothing be hid ne covered. Men fhuld eke re-
membre hem of the fhame that is to come at the
day of dome to hem that ben not penetent in this
prefent lif; for all the creatures in heven and in
erthe, and in helle, fhul fee apertly all that they
hiden in this world.
Now for to fpeke of the hope of hem that ben
fo negligent and flowe to fhrive hem, that ftond-
eth in two maners; that on is that he hopeth
for to live long, and for to purchaſe moche rich-
elle for hir delit, and than he wol ſhrive him, and,
as he fayth, he may, as him femeth, than timely
ynough come to fhrift; another is the furquedrie
that he hath in Criftes mercie. Ayenft the firft
vice he fhal thinke that our lif is in no fikerneffe,
and eke that all the richeffe in this world ben in
aventure, and paffen as a fhadowe on a wall; and
as fayth Seint Gregorie, that it appertaineth to
the gret rightwifneffe of God that never fhal
the peine ſtinte of hem that never wold withdrawe
hem from finne, hir thankes, but ever continue in
finne. For thilke perpetual will to don finne
fall they have perpetual peine.
|
Wanhope is in two maners; the first wanhope
is in the mercie of God; that other is that they
think that they ne might not long perfevere in
goodneffe. The firſt wanhope cometh of that, he
demeth that he hath finned fo gretly and fo oft,
and fo long lyn in finne, that he fhal not be faved.
Certes ayent that curfed wanhope fhulde he
thinke that the paffion of Jefu Crift is more
fronge for to unbinde than finne is ſtrong for to
binde. Ayenft the fecond wanhope he fhal
thinke that as often as he falleth he may arifen
again by penitence; and though he never fo longe
kath lyen in finne, the mercie of Crift is alway
redy to receive him to mercie. Ayenft that
wanhope that he demeth he fhuld not long perfever
in goodneſſe he ſhal think, that the febleneffe of
the devil may nothing do but if men wol fuffre
him; and eke he fhal have ftrength of the helpe❘
of Jefu Crift, and of all his chirche, and of the
protection of angels, if him liſt.
Than fhal men underſtonde what is the fruit of
penance; and after the wordes of Jefu Crift it is
an endeles bliffe of heven, ther joye hath no con-
trariofitee of wo ne grevance; ther all harmes
ben paffed of this prefent lif: ther as is fikerneffe
from the peines of helle; ther as is the blisful
compagnie that rejoycen hem ever mo everich of
others joye; ther as the body of man, that whilom
was foule and derke, is more clere than the fonne;
ther as the body that whilom was fike and freele,
feble and mortal, is immortal, and fo ftrong and fo
hole, that ther ne may nothing appeire it;
ther as
is neither hunger, ne thurfte, ne colde, but every
foule repleniſhed with the fight of the parfit know-
ing of God. This blisful regne mowe men pur-
chafe by poverte fpirituel, and the glory by low-
lineffe, the plentee of joye by honger and thurſt,
and the refte by travaile, and the lif by deth and
mortification of finne: to which life he us bring
that bought us with his precious blood! Amen.
Now preye I to hem alle that herken this litel
tretife or reden it, that if ther be any thing in it
that liketh hem that therof they thanken our
Lord Jefu Crift, of whom procedeth alle witte
and all godeneſſe; and if ther be any thing that
difplefeth hem, I preye hem alfo that they arrette
it to the defaute of myn unkonning, and not to
my wille, that wold fayn have feyde better if I
hadde had koning; for oure boke feyth, All that
is written is written for oure doctrine, and that
is myn entente: wherfore I befeke you mekely,
for the mercie of God, that ye preye for me that
Criſt have mercie of me and foryeve me my
giltes, [and namely of myn Tranſlations and en-
ditinges of worldly vanitees, the which I revoke
in my retractions; as The Boke of Troilus, The
Boke alſo of Fame, The Boke of The Five-and-
twenty Ladies, The Boke of The Ducheffe, The
Boke of Seint Valentines Day of the Parlement of
Briddes, The Tales of Canterbury, thilke that
founen unto finne, The Boke of the Leon, and
many an other Bokes, if they were in my re-
membraunce, and many a Song, and many a leche-
rous Lay, Crift of his grete mercie foryeve me
the finne but of The tranflation of Boes of
Confolation, and other Bokes of Legendes of
Saints, and of Omelies, and Moralite, and Devo-
tion, that thanke I oure Lord Jefu Crift and his
blissful mother, and alle the feintes in heven, be-
feking hem that they fro hensforth unto my
lyves ende fende me grace to bewaile my giltes,
and to ftodien to the favation of my foule,] and
graunte me grace, of veray penance, confeffion
and ſatisfaction to don in this prefent lif, thorgh
the benigne grace of him that is King of kinges
and Prefte of alle preftes, that bought us with
the precious blode of his herte, fo that I mote
ben on of hem atte the lafte day of done that
fhullen be faved; Qui cum Deo patre et Spiritu fanço
to vivis et regnas De is per omnia fecula, Amen,
2
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
203
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
Now lithin and liftinith, and
Herkinith you aright,
And ye fhullin her me tell
You of a doughti knight.
Sir Johan of Boundis clepid was
'This ilkè knight'’is name;
Wele coudin he of noriture,
And cke of mochil game.
Thre fonnis this knight had, and with
His bodi he them wan;
The eldeſt was a moche fhrew,
And fonè he began.
His brotherin lov'd thir fadir,
And of him were agaft;
Th' eldift deferv'd his fadir's curfe,
And had it at the laft.
The godè knight his fadir did
Live fo long and yore,
That Deth was comen him unto,
And handlid him full fore.
The godè knight ycarid moch,
Sore fike ther as he lay,
How that his childerin fhuldè
Lyvin after his day.
He hadde ben widè where, but,
Noon huſbondèe he was;
Allè the londe which that he had
It was veray purchas;
And fayn he woldè that it were
Dreffid among them all,
That everich of them had his part
As it mightè befall.
Tho fent he into the contrè
Aftir wife knightis,
To helpen dele his londis, and
Dreffin them to rightis.
He fent them word by letteris
That they fhulde hyè blyve
If that they wol fpeken with him
While that he was on live.
Sone as thofe knightis herden how
Thus fekè that he lay,
Tho hadde they no mannir reſt
Nothir by night nor day
Tyll that they comin unto him,
Ther as he layd him ſtill,
Upon his deth'is bedde for to
Abidin Godd'is will.
Thus then faidin the godè knight,
Sek: ther as he lay,
Lordis, I warnè you forfothe,
Withoutin any nay,
I may not lengir liven herè
In this forrowful ſtound,
For thorough Godd'is will fupreme
Dethe drawith me to ground.
Ther ne was no one of them alle,
That herdin him aright,
That thei ne haddè mochil routh
Upon that ilke knight;
And feidè, Sir, for Godd'is love
Ne difmayen you nought,
God may don botè of balè
Which that is now ywrought.
Then anfwerid them the gode knight,
Sike there as he lay,
Botè of balè God may ſend,
I wote it is no nay.
But I befekè you knightis,
Al for the love of me,
Goith and dreffith my londis
Among my fonis thre.
And, frendis, for the love of God
Delith them nat amys,
And forgettith not Gamèlyn,
My yongè fon that is.
Takith hedè unto that one
As wel as to that other;
Seldome ye feine any heir
That helpè woll his brother.
Tho lettin they the knighte liggin
Which that was not in hele,
And in thei wentin to counfaile
His londis for to dele;
For to delin them al too on
That was ther only thought,
And for that Gamèlyn yongift was
He fhuldè havin nought.
Al the londè which that ther was
They delten it in two,
And letè Gamèlyn the yonge
Withouten londè go.
And evèrich of them feiden
Til othir fullè loude,
His bretherin mowe give him londe
Whan that he godis koude.
204
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
Whan they had delid the londis
After their owne will,
Tho camin they unto the knight
Ther as he lay full ftill,
And toldin unto him anon
How that they hadd ywrought,
And the knight there as he feke lay
Ylikid it right nought.
Then feide the knight angrily,
I fware by Seint Martyn
For all that which ye have ydone
Yet is the londè myn.
For Godd'is love, my neighbouris,
Standeith ye allè ſtill,
And I woll delin my londe
After myn ownè will.
Johan myn eldift fone fhall
Yhave plowis five,
That was my fadir's heritage
While that he was on live;
And middillift fonè fhall
Five plowis have of lond
That I holpe for to gettin
With myn own rightè hond;
And all myn othir purchaſis
Of landis and of ledes,
That I bequethè Gamèlyn,
And alle my gode ftedes.
And I befeke you, gode men,
That lawis con of lond,
For Gamèlyn'is love that
Thus my bequeft may ftond.
Thus delid hath the gode knighte
His londè be his dai,
Right upon his deth'is beddè,
Sore fike ther as he lay :
And fone aftirwerdis he
Lay as a ſtone ſtill,
And dyid whan the tymè came,
As it was Crift'is will.
Anon aftir that he was dede,
And undir grafs ygrave,
Tho fonè the eldir brothir
Begylid the yongè knave.
He tokin into his hondis
His londis and his lede,
And alfo Gamèlyn himſelf
To clothin and to fede.
He clothid him and feddè him
Evil and eke wroth,
And letin his londis for fare,
And als his houfis both;
His parkis eke, and his wodis,
And diddè nothyng wel,
And fithin he it aboughtè
On his own feire fell.
So longè tyme was Gamèlyn
In his brother's Hall,
For the ftrengift of gode will
They doutidin him all.
There ne was none wight in that place,
Nothir yongè ne olde,
That wolde wrathin Gamèlyn
Were he nevir fo bold.
Gamelyn ftode upon a day
In his brother'is yerde,
And he began with his hondè
To handilin his berde.
He thoughtin upon his londis,
That layin longe unfawe,
And alfo of his feire okis,
That doune were ydrawe.
His parkis werin al brokin,
And al his deir reved;
Of allè his gode fledis noon
Was there with him beleved;
His houfis werein unhelid
And full evilly dight;
Tho thought this yongè Gamèlyn
It wente not aright.
After came his brothir in
Ywalkyng ftatelich thare,
And feidè unto Gamèlyn,
What? is our metè yare?
Tho Gamelyn ywrothid hym,
And fwore by Godd’is boke,
Thou shalt y go bake, luke, thy ſelf;
I wol not be thy coke.
How, brothir Gamèlyn, quod he,
Thus anſwerift me thou?
Thou ſpakiſt nevir foche a word
Yet as thou doift now.
By my faith, feidè Gamèlyn,
Now me it thinkith nede;
Of all the harmis that I have.
I nevir yit toke hede.
My parkis ben y brokin, and
My deir ben yreved;
Of myn harnis and my ftedis
Noght is there me beleved.
Al that my fadir me bequethe
Al goith now to fhame,
!
And therefore have thou Godd'is curfe,
Brothir John by thy name.
Than thus befpakin his brothir,
That rape was of vees,
Stondith ftille, thou gadiling,
And holdith right thy pees:
Thou shalte ben ful faign to have
Thy metè and thy wede..
What fpekift thou, thou gadiling,
Of lond othir of lede?
Then feide to him Gamèlyn,
The childc that was yinge,
Chrift'is curfè mote he havin
That clepith me Gadlyng.
I am no wors gadlying than the,
Parde ne no wors wight,
But born I was of a lady,'
And gottin of a knyght.
Ne durft he not to Gamelyn
Not oo fote ferthir go,
But clepid to him his meinè,
And feide to them tho
;
Goith and betith wele this boy,
And ravith him his wit,
And let him lere another time
To anſwering me bett.
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
Then feid the chyld, yong Gamelyn,
Chrift'is curfè mote thou havin
What? brother art thou myn.
And if that I fhal algatis
Y betin be anon,
Crift'is curfè mote thou havin
But that thou be that one.
Anu right anon his brothir did,
In that his gretë hete,
Makin his meine fett ftavis,
This Gamelyn to bete.
Whan everich of them had a ſtaff
Into his hond nomin,
Gamèlyn was aware tho,
He forfaugh them comin.
Tho Gamelyn faugh them comin·
He lokid ovir all,
And was ware of a peſtil
Stodè undir the wall.
And Gamelyn was fully light,
And thidir gan he lepe,
And droffe all his brother's men
Right fone on an hepe.
He lokid like a wild lion,
And laidin on gode wone;
Tho whan his brothir feye that
He beganne to gonne.
He fleigh up untill a loftè,
And fhet the dor faſt:
Thus Gam lyn with his peftil
Mad them all agaft.
Som for Gamelyn'is love,
And ſome for his envie,
Alle withdrowen them to halves
Tho he began to pleie :
What now? feide Gamèlyn; brothir,
Evil motè ye the;
Wollè ye beginnin contek
And than fo fone fle?
Gamelyn fought his brothir tho
Whithir he was yflowe,
And faugh where that he lokid out
At a folere windowe.
Brothir, tho feidè Gamilyn,
Comith a litil nere,
And I wol techin the a plaie
Attè the bokillere.
His brothir to hym anſwerid,
And fwore by Seint Richere,
While the peftil is in thyn honde
I woll comin no nere.
Brothir, I woll makin the pece,
I fwere by Crift's ore;
Caftith away the peftil tho,
And wrathè the na more.
I mot nedis, feide Gamelyn,
Wrathè me at onys,
For that thou woldift make thy men
To breikin my bonis.
In
Ne had I haddin meyn and might,
myn ownè twey armes,
To have y pufhin them fro me
They would have done me harmes.
To Gamèlyn tho feidin his
Brothir; Be thou not wrothe,
For to fein the havin harme
Me werin rightè lothe.
I ne did it not, my brothir,
But right for a fonding,
For to lokin if thou were ftrong,
And art ſo very ying.
Come adoun then to me, quod he,
And graunt me my bone,
Of oo thing I wol afkin the,
And we fhul faughtè fone.
Adoun then camin his brothir,
That fikill was and fell,
And was ſwithè right fore aghaft
Of that ilkè peftil.
He feidè, Brothir Gamèlyn;
Aſke me now thy bone,
And loke that you me blame, but
I grauntè it full fone.
Tho feiden yongè Gamèlyn;
Brothir myne, I wifs
And if we fhullè ben at one
Thou must me grauntè this :
Al that my fadir me bequethe,
While that he was on live,
Thou muftè do me it to have,
If that we fhul not ſtrive.
That thou shalt havè, Gamèlyn,
I fwere by Crift'is ore,
Al that thy fadir the bequethe,
Though thou woldiſt have more.
Thy londè, that now lyith lie,
Full well it ſhall be fowe,
And thyne houfis yraifid up
That now ben layd full lowe.
Thus feide the knight to Gamèlyn,
But only with his mouth,
And thoughtè but of falfènefs,
As he right welè couth.
The knightè thoughtin on traifon,
But Gamelyn on noon,
And went and kiffid his brothir,
And then they were at oon.
Alas for yongè Gamèlyn!
Nothing at all he wift
With fwichè falfe traifon
His brothir hath him kift.
Lithinith and leftinith, and
Holdith you ftille your tonge,
And ye hull herin ftraunge talking
Of Gamèlyn the yonge.
There happid to be there befide
Tryid a wraftiling,
And therefore there was yfettin
A ram and als a ring.
And Gamelyn was in a will
To wende thereunto,
For to previn his mighte, and fe
What that he couthè do.
Now brothir myne, quod Gamèlyn,
By holie Seint Richere
Thou muftè nedis lene to night
Me a litil courfere,
}
}
206
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
'That is freſhè to the ſporis,
Upon him for to ride;
I muſtin on an errand go
A litil here befide.
Be God, feide his brothir tho,
Of ftedis in my ſtall
Goith and chofith the the beſt,
And ſparith none of alle,
Of ſtedis or of courſeris,
That ftondith 'hem befide,
And tellith me, my gode brothir,
Whithur thou wiltè ride.
Herè befidis, brothir, is
Y cryid a wraftling,
And thereforè fhallè ben
A ram and als a ring.
y
fett
Mochè worſhip it were fothly,
Brothir, unto us all
Might I the ram and als the ring
Bringin home to the Hall.
A ftede there was fadilid,
Smarth was it and eke flete
Gamėlyn diddin a peire of
Sporis faft on his fete.
He fat his fote in the ſtirrop,
The ftedè he beftrode,
And towardis the wraftilling
The yongè childè rode,
Tho Gamelyn the yongè was
Riddin out at the gate,
The falfe knight his own brothir
Lokkid it aftir thate.
And he befoughtin Jeſu Criſt,
That is of hevin king,
That he mightè brekin his nek
In that ilk wraftiling.
Affone as Gamelyn cam there
The wraftling place was
He lightid down of the ftede
And ftodin on the gras.
And ther he herd a frankelyn
Weloway for to fing,
And beganin all bittirly
His handis for to wring.
Godè man, feidè Gamèlyn,
Why makift thou this fare?
Is ther no man that may you help
Out of this nicè care?
Alas! feidè this frankèlyn,
That evir I was bore!
For tweiè ftalworthè fonis.
I wene I have forlore.
A champion is in the place
That has wroughtin me forow,
For he hath flayn my too fonis
But if that God them borrow.
I wolde givin ten poundis,
Be Jefu Crift, and more,
With the nonis I'fond a man
To handilin him fore.
Godè man, feidè Gamelyn,
Wilt thou this welè done?
Holde my hors while that my man
Yurawith of my fhone,
And helpe my man alfo to kepe
My clothis and my ſtede,
And I woll into the place gon
And loke how I may ſpede.
By God, feide the frankelyn,
It fhall right fo be don,
I woll my filfin be thy man
To drawin of thy fhone.
And wendè you into the place,
Swete Jefu Crift the fpede,
And dredè not of thy clothis.
Nor of thy godè ftcde.
Barefote and ungert Gamèlyn
Into the ringe came,
Allè that werin in the place
Hedin of him the name,
How he durftin aventure him
On him to don his might
That was fo doughti a champion
In wraftling and in fight.
Upftertè tho the champion
Ful rapely right anon,
Towardis yongè Gamėlyn
He tho began to gon,
And feide, Who is thy fadir,
And who is cke thy fire?
Forfothe thou art a gret fole
For that thou camift hire.
Anon Gamèlyn anſwerid
The ftout champion tho,
Thou knewift full wele my fadir
While that he couthè go:
Whilis that he was on live,
I fwere by Seint Martyn,
Sir John of Boundis was his name,
And I am Gamèlyn.
Felawe, feide the champion,
So evir mote I thrive,
I knew right welè thy fadir
While that he was on live;
And thy felfin, yonge Gamèlyn,
I will that thou it here,
Whiles thou wert a yongè boy
A mochè fhrew thou were.
Then feidè yongè Gamèlyn,
And ſwore bi Crift'is ore,
Now am I oldir wox thou ſhalt
Y findin me a more,
Be God, feide the champion,
Welcome motè thou be
Come thou
onys in my honde
Shaltin thou nevir the.
It was welè within the night,
And bright the mone fhone,
Whan Gamelyn and the champion |
Togidir gan to gon.
The champion caftè tornis
To Gamelyn that was preft,
And Gamelyn ftodin ftillè,
And bad him don his beſt.
Then feiden yongè Gamèlyn
Unto the champion,
Now that I have fully provid
Many tornis of thine,
1
1
:
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
207
Thou moftin, feide Gamèlyn,
Prove oon or two of myn
Gamelyn to the champion
Yede fmartily anon,
Of al the tornis that he coude
He fhewid him but one;
And keft him on the liftè fide
That thre ribbis to brak,
And thereunto his left armè,
That gaf a grettè crak.
Than feide yongè Gan lyn
Smertly to him anon,
Shall it be holdin for a caft,
Or ellis go for none?
Bi God, feide the champion,
Whedir fo that it be,
He that ones comith in thyn hand
Shallin he nevir the.
Than feide the frankèlyn, that
Thre fonis there had lore,
Bleffid be thou, yongè Gamelyn,
That ever thou were bore!
For now unto the champion
This have for to feie,
This is the yongè Gamelyn
That taughtè the tc pleie.
Ayen anſwerde the champion,
That likid nothyng well,
He is all their maiftir, and
His pleie is right fell.
Sithin that I wriſtilid firſt
It is agon full yore,
But I was nevir in my life
Handilid fo before
Yonge Gamelyn ftode in the place
Allone withouten ferk,
And feide, If there be any mo
Let them come to werk.
The champion which that painid-
Him to workin fo fore,
It femith by his countinaunce
That he willè no more.
Gamelyn in the placè ftode.
Stille as any ſtone
For to abidin wraſtiling,
But there ycomith none.
There ne was none with Gamèlyn-
That wolde wreſtle more,
For he handilid the champion
So wonderouſly fore.
Two gentilmeinè that owned the place
Come to Gamelyn, God geve them grace!
And feide to him, Have done on
Thy hofin and thy fhone;
Forfothe at this time all-
This faire it is ydone.
Tho feide to them Gamèlyn,
So mote I well yfare,
I have not yet halvindele
Yfolde all my ware.
Than feide the champion fo broke,
I may it weld fwere
He is a fole that therof bieth,
Thou felleft it ſo dere..
Tho feide to him the frankèlyn,
That was in mochill care,
Fellaw, he faide, whi lakkift
Thou fo moche of his ware?
Be Seint Jame, that in Galis is,
That many man has fought,
Yet it is moche too godè chepe
That thou haſten ybought.
Tho that the wardinis werin
Of that ilk wraftiling
Comin forth, and brought Gamėlyn
The ram and als the ring.
And thus wann yongè Gamelyn
The ram and eke the ring,
And wentè forth with mochil joy
Homeward in the morning.
His brothir fe where that he come
With all the grettè rout,
And bad the porter fhute the gate,
And holdin him without.
The porter of his lord'is word
Was fo right fore agaft,
And ſtert anon unto the gate
And lokkid it full faft.
Now lithinith and leſtinith
Bothè yongè and old,
And
ye fhullin here gamin
Of Gamelyn the bold.
Gamelyn cometh therunto
For to have comen in;
But all in vaine; the dore then was
Y fhitt faft with a pyn.
Than feidè yongè Gamèlyn,
Porter, undo the yate,
For many a godè mann'is
Sonnè ftondith thereat.
Then anfwerid him the porter,
And fwore by Godd'is berde,
Thou ne fhalt, frènde Gamèlyn,
Comin into this yerde.
Thou lyift, feidè Gamèlyn,
So broukin I my chynne:
He fmote the wikit with his fote,
And brak away the pyn.
The porter ftreightwey faughè tho
It might no bettir be,
He fette fote on erthe, and
Faſt he began to fle.
Bi my faith, feidè Gamèlyn,
That travaile is ylore,
For I am on fote as light as
Thow, though thow had yfwore,
Gamelyn ovirtoke the porter,
And his teene ywrak,
And gert him full upon the nek,
That he the bon to brak;
And toke him by that oon arme,
And threw him in a well;
Seven hundrid fadom it was depe,
As I have herde telle.
Whan Gamelyn the yongè thus
Had yplaied his play,
Alle that in the yerde were
Withdrewin them away,
908
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
1
That dredin him full forè for
The wreke that he wrought,
And for the fayir cumpany
That he had thither brought.
Yong Gamelyn yede to the gate
And letè it up wide,.
He letin in alle the rout
That gon woldin or ride;
And feidè, Ye ben ywelcome
Withouten any greve,
For we wol ben maiſteris here,
And aſkè no man leve.
It n'as but yefterdai I laft,
Saide yong Gamèlyn,
In my brother'is feleris
Five toun of right gode wyne.
I will not this cumpany
Partyn with me on twyn,
And if ye will don aftir me,
Whil any fope is inn:
And if my brothir grutchith us,
Or makith it foulè chere,
Othir for fpence of mete and drink
That we fhull fpendin here,
I am the ovircaterir,
And bere our althir purſe,
He fhalle have for his grutching
Santa Maria's curfe.
My brothir is but a nigon,
I fwere by Crift'is ore,
And we woll ſpend largily
That he hath fparid yore.
And whoſo that makith grutching
That we do here ydwell,
He shall go unto the porter
Into the drawè well.
Sevin dayis and fevin nightes
Gamelyn held his feft,
With moche folace that there was,
And eke no mannir hefte.
All in a litil torrit his
Brothir laydè yfteke,
And faugh him waftin his godis,
But durfte not to fpcke.
Right erli in a morrowning,
Upon the eightè day,
The geftis come to Gamelyn,
And wolde gon thir way.
Lordis, tho feidè Gamelyn,
And wollin ye fo hie?
Alle the wyn is not yet dronk,
So broukin I mine eye.
Yonge Gamelyn in his hertè
Was forow full and wo
Whan that his geftis toke their leve
And fro him wold go.
He wolde that they had dwellid
Lengir, and they feide Nay,
But bitaught Gamelyn to God,
And bad him have gode dai.
Thus made Gamelyn his fefte,
And brought it well to end,
And aftirward his geftis toke
Leve their way to wend,
Now lithinith and liftinith,
And holdith you your tonge,
And ye
fhullin here gamin
Of Gamelyn the yonge.
Herkinith, Lordilingis, and
Liftinith you aright,
Whan all the geftis weren gon
How Gamelyn was dight.
Alle the while that Gamèlyn
Had hold his mangerie
His brothir thought on him bewreke
With his falfe trécherie;
Tho whan that Gamelyn'is geftes
Y ridin were and gon
Gamelyn ftode anon alone,
Frende tho had he none.
Tho aftir this full fone it fell,
Within a littil ftound,
That Gamèlyn was takin, and
Full hardly was he bound.
Than forth comith the falfe knight
Out of the folere,
And to Gamelyn his brothir
He goith fullè nere,
And feiden unto Gamèlyn;
Who mede the fo bold
For to deſtroyin and waſte
The ftore of my houfhold?
1
Brothir, anſwered Gamelyn,
Now wrathe the right noght,
For it is many day agon
Sithins it was ybought
For, brothir, thou haſtin haddè;
I fwere by Seint Richere,
Of fiftene plowis of londè
This full fixtenè yere;
And of alle the beftis which
Thou haftè forth ybredd,
fadir to me bequethe
Upon his deth'is bedd:
That my
Of alle this full fixtene yere
I geve the the prow,
For the mete and the drinke
That we have fpendid now.
Than thus feide the falfè knight,
(Full evil mote he the)
Herkinith, brothir Gamelyn,
What I woll gevin the;
For of my body, brothir, heir
Y gettin have I none;
I wolle makin the my heir,
I fwere by Seint John.
Par mafay, feide Gamelyn,
And if that it fo be,
And thou thinkeft as thou feyiſt,
May God yeldin it the!
Nothing wiftè yong Gamèlyn
Of his brother'is gile,
And therefore he him begilid
In verry littil while.
Gamèlyn, feiden he, o thing
I nedis muft the tell,
Tho whan thou threwe my porter
Into the drawè well,
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
209
2
fword in that wrathê, and
In that my gretè mote,
"That thou ſhuldiſt ybondê be
Both hondè and eke fote:
And therefore I befechè the,
My brother Gamèlyn,
Letith thou noght me be forfworn,
As brothir art thou mine;
But letith me ybindin the
Both hondè and eke fote,
For me to holdin myne avough,
Right as I the behote.
Brothir, tho feide Gamelyn,
As ſo I motin the,
Thou shalt not ben forfworin
For the love of me.
Tho madin thei this Gamelya
To fitte, might he not ſtand,
Tyll that he him ybondin had
Both fote and alfo hand.
The falfe knight his brothir of
Gamelyn was agaſt,
And fente aftir fetteris
To fetterin him faſt.
His brothir madè lefingis
On him ther as he ſtode,
And tolde them that comin in
That Gamelyn was wode.
Gamelyn ftode to a puſt
Y bondin in the Hall,
And tho that ther ycomin in
Lokid upon him all.
Evir ftodè yong Gamèlyn
Evin bolte upright,
But mete nor drink ne had he none
Nowthir by day ne night.
Tho feidè yongè Gamèlyn,
Brothir myn, by my hals
Now I have wele efpyid that
Thou art a parti fals.
Had I but wiftè that trefon
That thou haddift yfond
I woldin have gevin ſtrokis
Or I had ben ybound:
Gamelyn ftodè thus bondin
As ftill as any ſtone
For too dayis and too nightis,
And metè had he none.
Then feide at laſt this Gamelyn
That ftode boundin ſtrong,
Adam Spencer, methinkith that
I faftè al to long;
'Therefore, Adam le Difpencer,
Now I befeche the
For the mochè love with which
My fadir lovid the,
If thou may comin to the kaies,
Lefith me out of bond,
And for thi I woll departin
With the of my fre lond.
Than him anfwerid this Adam,
Which that was the Spencer,
I have yfervid thy brothir
This full fixtenè yere,
VOL. I.
1
And if I fhulde letin you
To gon out of his boure
He woldin aftitwardis feye
That I were a traytour.
Adam, anſweryd Gamèlyn,
So broukin I myn hals,
Thou ſhalte findin my brothir
At the laſt rightè fals;
And therefore, brothir Adam, me
Lofe out of my bonds,
And I wollè departin with
The of myn own fre londs.
Upon fo gode a forewardè
Saidin Adam, I wis
I wollè doin thereunto
Alle that in me is.
Adam, tho feidè Gamelyn,
As fo mowin I the,
I woll holde the covênaunt,
An thou too wollè me.
Anon as Adam his lordè
To beddè was ygone,
Adam toke the kaies, and lat
Gamelyn out anon.
He unlokid yonge Gamèlyn
Both hondis and eke fete,
On hope of the avauncèment
Which that he him bèhete.
Then feidè yongè Gamèlyn,
Thankid be Godd'is fonde,
For now that I am ylofid
Both fote and alfo hond!
Had I but etin a litil,
And thereto dronk aright,
There is non in this houfe that
Shuld binde me this night.
Tho Adam toke Gamlyn,
As ſtill as any ſtone,
And haddin him into the ſpence
Right rapily anon;
And fettin him to his foupere
Right in a privie ſtede,
And badin hym do gladily,
And Gamelyn fo dede.
Anon affone as Gamèlyn
Had etin wel and fine,
And thereunto had ydrankin
Well of the rede wyne,
Adam, feide yongê Gamèlyng
Tell what is now thy rede;
For me to go to my brothir,
And gerdin of his hede?
No, Gamelyn, feidin Adam,
It fhall not be fo,
But I can tell the a rede
That is yworth the too.
I wote wele forfothè that
(And this it is no nay)
We fhullin have a mangeric
Rightè upon Sonday;
Of abbotis and prióuris
Full many here fhal be,
And othir men of holie cherch,
As I can tellè the :
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
Thou shaltè ftond up by the poſt,
As thou were hondè faft,
And I fhall them leve unlok, that
Away thou may them caſt:
And whan that they have y etin,
And waſhin have their hondes,
Tho thou shalt befpekin them all
To bring the out of bondes:
And if that they will borrow the
That werin a gode game,
Than werin thou out of prifon
And I als out of blame;
But if that evèrich of them
Sayè unto us Nay,
I fhullè don anotḥir thing,
Ifwerè by this day.
Thou fhulle have a godè ſtaffe,
And I woll have another,
And Crift'is curfe have that oon
That failè fhall that othir.
Ye, for God, feidè Gamelyn,
I fay it right for me
If that I failin on my fide
Than evil mote I the.
If that we fhullin algatis
Affoile them of thire fynne;
Warnith me, my brothir Adam,
Whan that we ſhall begynn.
Now Gamèlyn, feiden Adam,
Ey Seintè Charitè
I wolle warnè the beforn
Whan that the time fhall. be.
Whan that I twinkin upon the
Lokè for to be gon,
And caft away the fetteris,
And come to me anon.
Adam, feidè yong Gam lyn,
Y bliffid be thy bones!
That is a rightè gode counfaile
Y gevin for the nones.
If that they fhullin wernè me
To bring the out of bendes
I wollè fettin gode ſtrokis
Full right upon their lendes.
Tho the Sondy was ycomin,
And theſe folk to the fefte;
Faire they werein ywelcomid
Bothe the lefte and mefte.
And evir as they at the Hall
Dorè were comin in
They evèrich caftin an eie
On yong Gam lyn.
The falfe knight his own brothir,
So full of trecherie,
Allè the geftes that there were
At that ilk mangerie
Of Gamèlyn his own brothir
He toldin them with mouth
All the harmis and the fhame
That e'ere he tellè couth.
Tho they werein yfervid ftreit
Of meffis too or thre;
Than feide yongè Gamèlyn,
How do ye fervè me?
It ne is not wele yfervid,
Be God that allè made,
That I fhold fittin here fafting
And othir men make glade.
The falfe knightè his brothir,
Thereas that he yſtode,
Toldin to allê his geftis
That Gamelyn was wode.
And Gamelyn there ftodè ftill,
And anfwerid right noght,
But of Adam'is wordis he
Heldè ftill in his thought.
Tho Gamelyn began to ſpeke,
Right doulefully withall,
Unto the grette lordis that
Y fatyn in the Hall:
My Lordings, tho feiden he,
For Crift'is paffion
Helpin to bringè Gamelyn
Out of thilke prifon.
Than feidè to him an abbot,
(Sorow upon his cheke!)
He fhallin have Crift'is curfe
And Seinté Maries eke,
That fhall the out of this prifon
Beggin owthir borow,
But evir worthè hym full wele
That doth the mykil forow.
And anon aftir that abbot
Than ſpakin anothir,
I wolde that thyn hede were of
Though thou were my brothir.
Alle that the fhall borrowin
Mote them foulè fall;
And thus yfeiden alle they
That werin in the Hall,
Than feide to him a priour,
Evil mowin he thrive!
It is grette forow and care,
Boy, that thou art on live.
On, on, feidè yonge Gaml
So broukin I my bone,
Now that I havin eſpyid
That frendis have I none.
A curfid mot he worthe be,
Bothe flefhê and blode,
That evir doth to priouris
Or abbotes any gode.
Anon Adam the Difpencer
Takin up hath the cloth,
And lokid unto Gamèlyn,
And faugh that he was wroth.
Adam of the pantrie at thilk
Time litil he thought.
And too gode ftavis unto
The Halle dore he brought.
Adam lokid on Gamelyi
And he was war anon,
And caft awaie the fetteris,
And began for to gon.
Tho he camin unto Adam,
He toke to the one ſtaff,
And beganning to werkè wele,
And gode ftrokis he gaff.
!
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN,
215
Camelyn came into the Hall,
And Adam Spencer both,
And lokid them all aboutin
As they hadde ben wroth.
Gam-lyn ſprenith holi watir
All with an okin ſpire,
That fome of them that ftode upright
Filin into the fire.
There was no mannir lewdè man
That in th Hallè ftode
That wolde doin Gamèlýn
Any thing but gode.
But thei ftode befidin, and
Let them bothè werch,
For thei ne haddë no roùthe
Of men of holi cherch.
Of abbot or of prior, or
Of monk or of canon,
That Gamelyn hath overtoke,
Anon they yedin doun.
There ne was none of them allè
That with his ſtuff ymette
That he made them overthrowe,
And quytte them his dette.
Tho Gam lyn, feidė Adam,
For Seint Charite
Payith, I pray, gode liveray,
And for the love of me ;
And I wollè kepin the dore;
So evir here I maffe
Er that they ben affoilyid
Ther fhalle noon ypaſſe,
Doute the noght, feide Gamèlyn,
While that we ben in fere
But kepe thou welè the dore
And I woll werkin here;
Befturrith the, gode Adam, and
Ne lettith none yfle,
And we fhall tellè largily
How many here there be.
To Gamèlyn feiden Adam,
Doith them all but gode,
For thei ben men of holi cherch;
Drawith of them no blode;
Savith right wele the coroune,
And doith them no harmes,
But brekith bothè their leggis,
And fithin here thir armes.
Thus Gam-lyn and Adam hath
Y wroughtin rightè faſt,
And pleidin with the monkies tho,
And made them agaſt.
Forth hidir they come riding
Full jolily with fwaines,
But home agen they werin ledde
In cartis and in waines.
Tho as they haddin all ydone
Than feidin a gray frere,
Alas! alas! my Lord Abbot,
What didde we now here?
Tho that we hither did ycome
It was a colde rede;
Us had far better ben at home
With watir and with brede.
While Gamelyn made orderis
Of monkis and of frere
Evir ftode his brothir ftille,
And made foul chere.
Tho Gamelyn up with his ftaff,
That he ful welè knew,
And grettin him upon the nek,
That he him overthrewe,
A litil above the girdil
The riggin bone to braft,
And fett him in the fetteris
There as he fattin arft.
Sittith thou there, my brothir John,
Tho feidè Gamèlyn,
For to colin thy hotte bodie,
As I did colè myn.
And ſwithe as they yhaddè wele
Wroken them on their fone,
They afkid for the watir, and
They within them anon.
What fome of them for their lovè,
And fom for their awe,
Alle the fervauntis fervid
Them of the beftè law.
The fhereff was thennis away
But about a five myle,
And all was toldin unto him
Within a little whyle,
How Gamelyn and Adam had
Ydon a forry res,
Boundin and woundin many men
Agen the king'is pece.
Eitfonis tho begannin fone
Striffe for to awake,
And the fhiregereve about did
Caft Gamelyn to take.
Now lithinith aud leftinith,
So God geve you gode fine,
And ye hull herin a gode game
Of yongè Gamelyn.
Now four-and-twenty yongè men,
That holdin them full bolde,
Comin unto the fhiregereve,
And feide that they wold
Both Gamelyn and éke Adam
Y fettè be the way;
The fhiregereve gafè them leve
Tho foth as I you fay,
Thes yongè meme hiden them
Faft, wolde they not lynne
Tyll that they comin to the gate
There Gamelyn was inne.
Thy knokidin upon the gate,
The porter tho was nye,
And lokid forth out at an hole,
As man that was full flye
The porter had beholdin themi
But for a litil while,
He lovid welè Gamèlyn,
And was adrad of gile,
And forthi lete the wiket
Y ftondin fullè ftill,
And afkid them that ftant without
What ywas their will?
O ij
312
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELY N
For alle the gret cumpany
Than ſpake bot one alone,
Undo the gatis, porter, and
Latè us in ygone.
Then feide to them the porter,
So broukin I my chynne
Ye fhull fayin your errand
Or that ye comin inne.
Say to Gamelyn and Adam,
If that ther wille it be,
We wolke fpekin here with them
Two wordis othir thre.
Fellaw, feide the porter tho,
Stondith thou ther yftill,
And I woll wend to Gamelyn
To wetin of his wille.
And in wentè the porter tho
Fo Gamelyn anon,
And feidè, Sire, I warne you
That here be come your fone;
For lo! the fhiregerev'is mer
Now ben all at the gate
For to ytekin you bothè;
Shalle ye not eſcape.
Forter, tho feidè Gamelyır,
So mote welè the,
I woll allowè the thy wordes
Whan I my timè fe.
Go ageyn, porter, to the gate,
And dwell with them a while,
Awaitin, and thou fhaltè fe
Right fone, porter, a gile.
Adam, tho feidè Gamèlyn,
Loke the to be gon,
We have foomen at the gate,
And frendis nevir one.
It ben the fhiregerev'is men
That hithir ben comin,
"They ben yfwore togideris,
That we fhull be nomin.
To Gamelyn feidè Adam,.
Hie the righte belyve,
And if I failè the this day
Than evil mote I thryve.
And we fhullin fo welcome
The fhiregerev'is men,
That fome of them I trow fhall make
Their beddis in the fen.
Then thorough the poſternè gate
Yong Gamelyn out went,
And a gode fturdie cartè ſtaffe
In his honde he hent.
And Adam Spencer hentè fone
Anothir grettè ſtaff
For to help young Gamèlyn,
And gode ftrokis he gaffe.
Adam yfellid hath his tweyne,,
And Gamelyn felled thre,
The tothir fette' on erth,
And faft began to fle.
What? feidin Adam Spencer tho
So evir hire I maffe
I have right gode reddè wyne,
Pray drinkith er ye paffe.
Nai, nai! by God, feidè they tho;
Thy drink is nothing gode,
It wolde makin mann'is brayne
To lyin in his hode,
Yong Gamèlyn tho ſtodè ſtill,
And lokid him about.
And faide, The fhiregereve comith
With a full grettè rout.
Adam Spencer, ſeid Gamèlyn,
My rede it is now this,
Abidin we not lengir here
Left we farin amys.
I rede that we to wode ygonn
Er that we be yfound;
Betir is there lofe for to gonn
Than in the toune ybound.
Adam them tokè by the hond
This yong Gamelyn.
And echè of them to the othir
Drapkin a draft of wyne
And aftirwardis toke their courſe,
And wentè ftreight their way;
Tho fond the ſhiregereve the neſt,
But in it was none ay.
The fhiregereve lightid adoune,
And went into the Hall,
And fond the lord yfetterid
Full faftè therewithall.
The fhireve tho unfetterid
Him rightè fone anon,
And fentin aftir a gode leche
To hele his riggè bon.
Lete we now this falfe knight
Lie in his mochill care,
And tellè we of Gamèlyn,
And loke how he fare.
Gamelyn into the wild wode
Yftalkid is full ftille,
And Adam le Difpencer it
Ylikid but right ille.
Tho Adam fwore to Gamelyny'
And that be Seint Richere,
Now I fay that it is mery
To ben a difpencer;
'That muchè levire me werin
The kayis for to bere,
Than walkin in this wildè wode
My clothis all to tere.
Adam, feidè yong Gamèlyn,
Difmaye the right noght,
For many a gode mann'is child
In carè is ybrought.
As they thus in the wode ftodin,
Ytalking both in fere,
Adam herdè talking of men,
And nigh them thought they were.
Tho Gamelyn undir the wild
Wode lokid aright,
Full fevin fcore of yongè men
He faugh right wel ydight;
Allè were fatte at their mete
In a compas about;
Adam, tho feide Gamèlyn,
Now 'havin ye no doute,
3
1
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
233
For aftir bale comith bote,
Thorough Godd'is grete might;
Methinkith of mete and of drink
That I havin a fight.
Adam le Difpencer lokid
Tho undir wode bowe,
And whan that he the metè faugh
Tho he was glad inowe;
For now he hopid unto God
For to havin his dele,
And he was ful fore alongid
Aftir a godè mele.
Anon as he feide that word
Streight the maiftir outlawe
Saugh Gamelyn and Adam both
Undir the wodè fhaw.
Lo! young men, feide the maiſtir
Outlaw, by the gode rode
I am aware of fome geftis,
Pray God fendin us gode!
Loke! yondir be two yongè men
That ben right wel adight,
A! peradventure they ben mo,
Whofo lokid aright.
Arifeth up quick yongè men,
And fette them to me,
For it is gode that we wetin
What meine that they be.
Up thei ftertin quik at that word,
Sevin fro the dinnere,
And they mettin with Gamelyn
And Adam Difpencere.
Whan that they werin ney to them
Than feide thus that one,
Yeldith up to us, yonge men
Your bowis and your flone.
Than fcide to them Gamelyn,
That yonge was of elde,
Ful mochil forow mote they have
That unto you ſhall yelde:
I curfe woll none othir wight
But right mine ownè ſelve
Tho ye may fettin unto you
Fyve, andthan be ye twelve.
They herdin by his wordis that
Gret might was in his arme,
And forthi there was non of them
That wolde don him harme,
But fedin unto Gamelyn
Right mildily and ftill,
Comith aforin our maiftir,
And fay to him thy will.
Yonge man, feidè Gamêlyn,
Upon your leaute
Tellith what man your maiter is
Which that ye with ybe.
Tho all they anfend him
At ones without lefing,
Our maiſter is ycorounid
Of Outlawis is the King,
Adam, feido yongè Gamelyn,
Go we in Crift'is name,
He may nothir metè nor drink
Y werne us for fhame;
And if that he hende, and
Comin of gentil blode,
He woll geve us both mete and drink,
And doin us fome goode,
By Seinte Jame, feide Adam tho,
What harme fo that I grete
I will adventure me to the
Dore that I had mete.
Tho Gamêlyn and Adam both
Y wentê forth in fere,
And they both gretè the maiſti r
Which that they fonde there.
Than feide to them the maiftir,
That King was of Outlawes,
What do ye feke, ye yonge men,
Undir the wode ſhawes ?
Yong Gamelyn anfwerid tho
The King with his coroune,
He muftè nedis walk in wodes
That may not walk in toune.
Sire, we walkè not here in wo des
Non harme for to do,
But if paradventure we mete
A dere to fherte thereto,
As meine that ben right hungry,
And mow no metê fynd,
And very harde ben beſtad
Undir the wodè lynd.
Of Gamelyn'is wordis tho
The maiſter hadde routhe,
And feide to them, Ye ſhall have
Inow, heve God my trouthe.
Anon he badde them fittin
Doune for to take reſt,
And badde them etin and drink,
And that too of the beſt.
Asthey were eting and drinking
Of the beft wele and fine,
Than feide the ton to the tothir
This is yonge Gamèlyn.
Tho was the maiſter of outlawes
Into confaile nomin,
And told how it was Gamelyn
That thither was comin.
Anon as he had herdin all
How that it was befall,
He made Gamelyn maiſtir
Undir him o're them all.
Within the third weke aftir this
To him comith.tiding,
To the maiftir of outlawis,
Which that now was their king,
That he fhulde ycomin home,
For that his pees was made;
And of that joyfull tiding he
Was wonderouſly glade.
Tho feide he to his yongè men,
The fothè for to tell.
To me be comin tidingis
I may no lengir dwell.
Tho was yong Gamelyn anon,
Withoutin tarying,
Made maiftir of outlawis, and
Y coroundid their king:
!
Ouij
214
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELY N.
Tho was yong Gamèlyn crounid
The King of the Outlawes,
And among them walkid a while
Undir the wodè fhawes.
The falfe knight his brothir now
Was fhiregereve and Sire,
And lete his brothir be endite
For hate and for ire.
Tho werin all his bondmeinè
Sory and nothing glad
Whan that Gamèlyn their lordè
Wolves Hede was cryed and made,
And fentin outè his meinè
Where they mightin him fynd,
For to fekin yonge Camèlyn
Undir the wodè lynd,
To tellè to him tidingis
The winde was ywent,
And allè his gode revied was,
And all his men yfhent.
Whan that they haddè hym foundin
On kncys they them fette,
And adoun with their hodè, and
Gamèlyn their lord grette.
They feiden, Sire, now wrathè not
You for the gödè rode,
For we have brought you tidingis,
But they be nothing gode.
Now is thy brothir fhiregereve,
And he hath the baillie,
And thereto hath enditid the,
And Wolves Hede doth the crie.
Allas! tho feidè Gamèlyn,
That c're I was fo flak,
That I ne hadd brokin his nek
Whan I his riggè brak.
Goith, and gretith you welè
My houfbondis an wif,
I wollè ben at the next fhire,
So have God my lif.
Gamèlyn came well redy
Unto the nextè fhire,
And there the falfe knight his brothir
Was bothè Lord and Sire.
Gamèlyn camè boldilich
Tuto the Mo è Hall,
And put adoun his hode among
The lordilingis all.
God favè you, Lordilingis!
Which that now here be;
But as for the, brokebak fhereve,
Evil motè thou the !
Why haftè thou doin to me
That fhame and villonie
For to latín enditè me,
And Wolf'is Hede me crie?
Thỏ thought the falfè knight on him
For to have ben àvreke,
And letè takin Gamèlyn;
Mufl he no more yfpeke.
Mightè there be no mannir grace,
But Gamelyn at laſt
Was into prifoun ycaſtin,
And fetterid full faft.
;
This Gamèlyn hath a brothir
That cleped was Sir Ote
As gode and hend a knight he was
As mightin gon on fote.
Right anon yede a meſſager
Unto that gode knight,
And toldin him altogethir
How Gamèlyn was dight.
Anon as Sir Ote herdin had
How Gamèlyn was dight,
He was right paffing fory tho,
Ne he was nothing light:
And letè faddle him a ſtede,
And ftreit the weie he name,
And unto his tweie bretherin
Right fone there he came.
Sir, feidè this Sir Ote unto
The fhiregerevè tho,
We ben but only thre brethren,
Shall we be nevir mo,
And thus haft thou yprifounid
The beſte of us all;
Soche anothir brothir as thou
Evil mote him befall!
Sir Ote, feidè the falfè knight,
Now letè be thy cars;
By God for thefe thi verdis he
Shalle farin the wors.
Now to the king'is prifoun he
Is lefully ynoine,
And ther he ſhall abidin
Untill the juſtice come.
But parde, feidė Sir Ote tho,
Bettir it fhall ybe
Į biddin him unto maynprife
And that thou grauntè me,
Untill the nextè fitting ſhall
Come of deliveraunce,
And than lete Gamelyn fairely
Yftondin to his chaunce.
Brothir, in foche a forewardè
I takin him to the,
And by thy fadir'is foulè,
That the begat and me,
If that he be not right redy
Whan that the juftice fitte,
Thou ſhaltè berin the judgement,
For all thy grette wit.
I grauntin it wele, fcide Sir Ote,
That it fhall fo ybe ;
Letith delivir him anon,
And takin him to me.
Tho Gamèlyn was delivered
To Sir Ote his brothir,
And that night ydwellid in fere
The ton with the tothir.
On the morow feide Gamelyn
Unto Sir Ote the hend,
My brothir, he feidè, forfothe
I motè from the wend,
To lokin how my yongè men
In wode ledin their lif,
And whethir that they liven now
In joic or elles in ftrif.
L
C
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELY N.
RES
Be God, tho anſwerid Sir Ote,
That is a coldè rede,
Now I fe that alle the cark
Shall fallin on my hede;
For whan that the juſtice fittith,
And thou be not yfound
I fhall anon be takin, and
In thy ftede be ybound.
Brothir, tho feidè Gamèlyn,
Diſmayè the right noght,
For be Seintè Jame in Galis,
That many man hath fought,
If fo that God Almighty hold
lif and my wit
Me my
I wollè ben there right redy
Whan that the juſtice fit.
Than feide Sir Ote to Gamèlyn,
God fhelde the fro ſhame!
Comith whan that thou feift tyme,
And bring us out of blame.
Now lithinith and leftinith,
And holdith you right ſtill,
And
ye fhulle herin how that
Gamèlyn had his will.
Anon Gamelyn wenţin his
Way undir the wode riſe,
And he yfondè there playing
His yongè men of priſe.
Tho was this yongè Gamèlyn
In hert right glad inow
Whan that he fond his yongè men
Undir the wodè bow,
Gamèlyn and his yongè men
Ytalkidin in fere,
And they all hadde right gode game
Their maiſtir for to here.
His men told him of aventures
Which that they had yfound,
And Gamèlyn told them agen
How he was faſt ybound.
All the while that Gamelyn was
Outlaw had he no curs;
There ne was no man that for him
Yferid ought the wors,
But abbotis and priouris,
And monkis, and chanon;
In them forfothe ne laft he noght
Whan er he might them nom.
While Gamelyn and his yong men
Ymade mirthis ryve,
The falfe knight his own brothir,
Evil mote he thryve!
For all this while he waft about,
Both one day and othir,
On purpoſe for to hire the queſt
To hangin his brothir.
Gamelyn ftodin on a day,
And round him he beheld
The wild wodis and the fhawis
Within the wilde feld;
He thoughtin upon his brothir,
How that he him behete
That he ywoldin be redy
Whan that the juſtice ſete a
He thoughtin welè that he wolde,
Withoutin more delay,
Ycomin afore the juſtice
For to kepin his day;
And feide to his yonge men,
Now dightith you full yare,
For whan that the juſtice fittith
We mote nedis be there;
For I am undir a borow
Until that I comin,
And my brothir inftede of me
To prifon fhal be nomin.
Be Seint Jame, feide his yongê men,
And that thou rede thereto,
Ordeinith how it fhalle be,
And it fhall fo be do.
While Gamelyn was ycoming
There that the juftice fatt
The falfe knight his own brothir
Forgattin he not that,
To hire the meine on his queſt
To hangin his brothir,
And though thei hadde not that oon
He wolde han that othir.
Tho comith yongè Gamelyn
From undir the wode rife,
And he broughtin along with him
His yongê men of prife.
Ife wele, feidè Gamèlyn,
The juftice is yfette;
Go thou aforn us, Adam, and
Loke how that it ſpette.
Adam wentè into the Hall,
And lokid all about,
And he faugh there yſtonde tho
Lordingis grette and fout,
d
And Sir Ote, Gamelyn'is brothir,
Yferterid wele faft;
Tho wentin Adam out of Hall
As he werin agaft.
Adam feide to Gamèlyn,
And to his felawes all,
Sir Ote yftondith fetterid
Within the Mote Hall.
Seide Gamelyn, If God geve us
Grace wel for to do
He fhallin it abegge anon
That him broughtin thereto.
Then feidin Adam Diſpencer,
That lokkis haddin hore,
Chrift'is curfe motè he havin
That boundin him ſo fore.
And if thou wiltè, Gamelyn,
Doin aftir my rede,
There is none in the Halle that
Shall bere aweie his hede.
Adam, tho feidè Gamelyn,
We wolle not do fo;
We woll fle only the giltif
And lat the othir go.
I will my felve into the Hall,
And hire the juſtice ſpeke,
And on all them that ben giltif
I wolle bcn awrcke.
O ü
:
216
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN,
Lat none efcapin at the dore;
Take, yongè meinè, yeme,
For I wolle ben the justice
This day domis to deme.
Pray God ſpedè me this ilk dai
At this my newè werke!
And Adam, comith thou with me,
For thou fhalt be my clerke.
His meine all anſwerid hini,
And bad hym don his beſt,
And if thou to us havè pede
Thou shalt fyndin us preſt:
For we wolle ftondin with the
Whilis that we may dure,
And but that we werkin manly
Payith us then no hure.
Yongè men, feidè Gamêlyn,
So mot I wele y the,
As ye a right truſty maiſtir
Shulle findin of me.
And rightè thereat the juſtice
Yfattin in the Halle,
In wentè tho yong Gamelyn
Boldly amonges them all.
Gamelyn lete unfettir
His brothir out of bend;
Than feide to him Sir Otis,
His brothir that was hende,
Thou haddiſt almoſt, Gamėlyn,
Dwellid away to long,
For the queftè is ygon out
On me that I ſhulde honge.
Brothir, tho feidè Gamèlyn,
God geve me gode reft,
This gode day they fhull ben hongid
That ben upon the queft;
And thereto the juſtice bothè,
That is the juggè man,
And eke the fheriff our brothir,
For through him it began.
Than ſeidè yongè Gamèlyn
Unto the falfe juftice,
Now is thi powir at an end,
You muſt nedis ariſe.
Thou haft ygevin domis that
Ben evil allè dight;
I wollè fettin in thi fete,
And dreffin them aright.
}
But the justice fattin ftillè,
And roofè not anon,
And Gamelyn with his ſweṛdè
Clevid his chekè bone.
Yonge Gamelyn toke him in his
Armis, and no more fpak,
But threw him ovir the barrè,
And his armè to brak.
Durſt no one unto Gamèlyn
Sayè nothing but godè,
For fere of the gret company
That withoutin yftode.
Gamelyn fatte hini adoun
In the juftic'is ftede,
(Herkenith now of the bourdè
That Gamèlyn tho dede)
And Sir Otè by him he fatte,
And Adam at his fete.
And whan Gamelyn the yong wag
Satte in the juſtice ſete,
He letè fette the juſtice
And his falfe brothir,
And letè them come to the barre
The ton with that othir.
Whan Gamelyn had thus ydone
Haddin he tho no reſt
Till that he had enquerid who
Werin upon the queft.
For to demin his brothir dere,
Sir Ote, for to be honge,
Er that he wifte which they were
It thoughte him full longe.
But al fo fone as Gamèlyn
Wifte where that thei were
He didde them everichonc
Fetterin faft in fere,
And bringe them unto the barre,
And fette them in vewe:
By my faith, feide the juſtice,
The fheriff is a fhrewe.
Than feidè yongè Gamėlyn
Unto the falfe juflice,
Thou haftè gevè thy domis
Al of the worst affife:
And the twelve fifouris that
Werin of the inqueſt
They fhulle ben hongid this day,
So God geve me gode reft.
Than feide the sheriff pitously
To yongè Gamèlyn,
My Lord, I crie the mercie,
Brothir artè thou myn.
Therefore, feidè yonge Gamèlyn,
Have you Crift's curfe,
For if thou werin maiftir yet.
Shuldin I farè worſe.
But for to make ſhort my Tale,
And not to tary longe,
He ordeynid him there a queft
Of his own men fo ftrong.
The falſe juſtice and the ſheriff
Bothè were hongid hie,
To weyvin there with the ropis,
And with the winde drie.
And als the twelvè fifouris,
Sorow have that rekk,
Alle they werin yhongid
Full faftè by the nekk.
Thus endid hath the falfè knight
With all his trecherie,
That evir haddè lad his life
In falfeneſs and folic.
He was hongid up by the nek,
And nought by the purſe,
That was the mede that he had hadde
From his fadir'is curfe.
Sir Ote was the eldift tho,
And Gamelyn was yonge,
They wentin with their frendis, and
Pallidin to the king
THE COKE'S TALE OF GAMELYN.
217
They madin pece with the kingè
Of the befte affife;
The king lovid Sir Otè welè,
And made him a juſtice.
Aftir the king made Gamèlyn,
Bothè in eſt and weft,-
The chefe juftice and ridere of
Allè his fre foreft.
Alle his wight yonge men the king
Forgafin them their gilt,
And fithen in gode office the king
Hath alle them ypilt.
Thus has wan yongè Gamèlyn
His londè and his lede,
And wrake of him his enemies,
And quytè them their mede.
And Sir Otè, his brothir dere,
Ymade him hath his heir,
And fithin weddid Gamelyn
A wife both gode and faire.
They lividin togidir wele
Whilis that Chriftè wolde,
And fithin that was Gamèlyn
Ygravin undir molde :
And fo fhallè we allè here;
May there no man yfle
God bringin us unto the joie
That evir fhull ybe!
Thus endith the legend of Gamelyn, called The Coke's Tale,
218
THE PLOWMAN'S PROLOGUE.
<
J
HERE BEGINNETH
THE PLOWMAN'S PROLOGUE.
THE Plowman plucked up his plowe
Whan midfomer mone was comen in,
And faied his beſtes ſhould ete inowe,
And lige in graffe up to the chin:
Thei ben feble both oxe and cowe,
Of 'hem n'is left but bone and ſkinne;
He fhoke of fhere, and coulter' off drowe,
And honged his harnis on a pinne.
He toke his tabarde and ſtaffe eke,
And on his hedde he fet his hat,
And faied he would Saint Thomas feke.
On pilgrimage he goth forth plat;
In fcrippe he bare bothe bred lekes;
He was folfwonke and all forfwat:
Men might have fene through both his chekes,
And every wang tothe where it fat.
Our Hofte behelde well all about,
And fawe this man was funne ibrent
He knewe well by his fingid fnout,
And by his clothes, that were to rent,
He was a man wont walke about,
He n'as not aye in cloiſter pent,
Ne couthe religioufliche lout,
And therefore was he full ill fhent.
Our Hofte him axed, What man art thou?
Sire Hofte, (quod he) I am an hine,
For I am wont to go to plow,
And erne my mete yet that I dine a
To fwette and fwinke I make avowe,
My wife and babes therewith to finde
And fervin God and I wiſt how,
But we lende men yben full blinde:
For clerkes faie we fhullin be fain
For ther livelod to fwette and ſwinke,
And thei right nought us give again
Neither to ete ne yet to drinke;
Thei mowe by lawe, as that thei fain,
Us curfe and dampne to hell'is brinke;
And thus thei puttin us to pain
With candlis quient and bell'is clinke.
Thei make us thrallis at their luft,
And fain we mowe not els be faved;
Thei have the corne and we the duft;
Who gainfayes then they faye he raved.
What, man! (quod our Hofte) canft thou preche?
Come nere and tel fome holy thing.
Sir, quod he, I herd onis teche
A preeft in pulpit gode preching.
Saie on quod he, I the befeche,
Sir, I am redy at your bidding.
I praie that no man me reproche
While that I am my Tale telling.
Thus endeth the Prologuca
THE PLOWMAN'S TALE.
HERE FOLOWETH
THE FIRST PART OF THE TALE*.
A FULL fterne ftrief is ftirrid newe
In many ſtedis in a ſtounde,
Of fondry fedis that ben fewe;
It femith that fome ben unfounde,
For fome be grete growin on grounde,
Some ben fouble, fimple and ſmall :
Whether of 'hem is falfir founde
The falfir foule mote him bifall.
That one fide is that I of tell
Popis, cardinals, and prelates,
Parſons, monkis, and freris fell,
Priours, abbotes, of grete eftates;
Of heven and hell thei kepe the yeates,
And Peter's fucceffours ben all,
And this is demid by old dates;
But falfhed foule mote it befall.
The othir fide ben pore and pale,
And peple yput out of prefe,
And femin caitiffes fore a cale,
And er in one without encreſe
Iclepid Lollers and Londleſe;
Who totheth on 'hem thei ben untall;
Thei ben arayid all for pece,
But falfhed foule mote it befall
Many a countrey have I fought
'To knowe the falfir of theſe two,
But aye my travaile was for nought
All fo ferre as I have ygo,
But as I wandrid in a wro,
Within a wode befide a wall,
'Two foulis fawe I fitting tho,
The falfir foule mote him befall.
That one did plete on the Pope's fide,
A Griffon of a grimme ftature;
A Pellicane withoutin pride
To thefe Lollers ylaied his lure;
He mufed his mattir in meſure
To counfaile, Chriſt ay gan he cali;
The Griffon fhewed as tharpe as fire,
But falfhed foule mote it befall.
* A complaint against the pride and covetoufnefs of the
clergy, made no doubt by Chaucer, fays the editor of Chau-
cer's Works printed for Ad. Iflip at London, A. D. 1602.
Urry.
The Pellicane began to preche
Bothe of mercie and of mekeneſſe,
And ſaied that Chriſt ſo gan us teche,
And meke and merciable gan bleffe:
The' Evangely berith witneſſe
A lambe he likeneth Chrift ovre' all,
In tokening that he mekiſt was
Sith pride was out of hevin fall.
And fo fhould every Criftened be,
Prieftis and Peter's fucceffours,
Beth lowliche and of lowe degre,
And ufin none yerthly honours,
Ne croune ne curious covertours,
Ne pilloure ne other proude pall,
Ne to cofrin up grete trefours,
For falfhed foule mote it befall.
Pricftis fhould for no cattill plede,
But chaften 'hem in charite,
Ne to no battaile ſhould men lede
For inhaunſing ther owne degre,
Nat willin fittinges in hie ſe,
No foverainte in hous ne hall,
Worldly worship defie and fle;
Who willeth highnes foule fhall fall.
Alas! who maie foche fainctis call
That wilnith welde yerthly honour?
Lowe as Lucifere foche fhall fall,
In balefull blackneffe build ther boure
That eggith peple to erroure,
And makith them unto 'hem thrall;
To Crift I holde foche one traitour;:
Lowe as Lucifer foche fhall fall,
That willith to be kingis peres,
And higher than the Emperour,
And fome that werin but pore freres
Now wollin waxe a warriour;
God ne is not ther governour
That holdith none his permagall,
While cove'tife is ther confailour;
All foche falfhede mote nedis fall,
That hie on horfe willith to ride
In glitterande golde of grete araie,
Painted and portrid alle in pride,
No common knight maie go fo gaie,
220
THE PLOWMAN'S TALE
Chaunge of clothing every daie,
With goldin girdils grete and ſmall,
As boiftous as is bere at baie;
All foche falfhede mote nedis fall.
With pride puniſhith thei the pore,
And fome one thei fuftain with fale,
Of holie churche makith an hore,
And fill ther wombe with wine and ale;
With money fille thei many a male,
And chaffrin churchis when thei fall,
And telle the peple a leude tale;
Soche falfe faitours foule 'hem befall.
Thei fede of many manir metes,
With fong and folas fitting long,
And filleth ther wombe, and faſte fretes,
And from the mete unto the gong,
And aftir mete with harpe and fong,
And eche man mote 'hem Lordis call,
And hote fpicis evir emong;
Soche falfe faitours foule 'hem befall.
Miters thei werin mo than two
Iperlid as the quen'is hedde,
A ſtaffe of golde, and pirrie lo!
As hevie as' it were made of ledde;
With clothe of gold bothe new and redde,
With glitterande gold as grene as gall,
By dome thei dampne men to be dedde;
All foche faitours foule 'hem befall.
And Crift'is peple proudly curſe
With brode boke and braying bell,
And to put pennies in ther purſe
Thei woll fell bothe hevin and hell:
In ther fentence and thou wilt dwell
Thei willin geffe in ther gaie hall,
And though the foth thou of 'hem tell
In the grete curfing fhalt thou fall.
That is ybleflid that thei bleſſe,
And curfid that thei curfin woll,
And thus the peple thei oppreffe,
And have ther lordſhippis at full;
And many be merchauntes of woll,
And to purs pennics woll come thrall,
The pore peple thei al to pull;
Such falfe faitours foule 'hem befall,
Lordis alſo mote to 'hem loute,
Obeyſaunt to ther brode bleſſing,
Thei ridin with ther royal route
On a courfir as' it were a king,
With fadle of golde glittering,
With curious harneis quaintly crallit,
Stiroppis gaie of golde maſtling;
All fuche falfhed foule may befal it.
Chriſtes Minifters clepid thei bene,
And rulin al in robberie,
But Antichrifte thei fervin clene,
Attirid al in tirannie,
Witneffe of John his prophecie;
Antichrifte is ther admirall,
Tiffelers attired in trecherie;
Al fuche faitours foule 'hem befall.
Who faith that fome of 'hem may finne
He fhal be domid to be ded;
Some of 'hem wollin gladly winne
Al ayent that which God forbed,
Al Holieft they clepe ther hed,
That of ther rule is full regall;
Alas that evir thei ete bred!
For al fuch falfhed wol foule fall.
Ther hed covitith al honour,
To be worshipped in worde and dede,
Kingis mote to him knele and coure,
To the' apoſtles that Chriſt forbede :
To Popis hefte fuch take more hede
Than to kepe Chriftes commaundement,
Of gold and filvir ben ther wede,
Thei holde him hole omnipotent.
He ordaineth by his ordinaunce
To pariſhe prieſtis a powere,
To' anothir a gretir avaunce,
A gretir point to his miſtere ;
But for he' is highiſt in erth here
To him referveth he many' a point,
But unto Chriſt, that hath no pere,
Refervith he no pin no joynt.
So femith he abovin all,
And Chriſt abovin him nothinge,
Whan that he fittith in his ftall
Dampnith and favith as him thinke;
Suche pride tofore hie God doth ſtinke
An angel bad John to' him not knele,
Only to God to do his bowinge;
Soche worſhip-willers mote il! fele.
Thei ne clepe Chrift but San&us Deus,
And clepe ther hed San&tiffimus ;
All they that fuche a fecte fewis
I trowe thei taken 'hem amiffe:
In erth here they havin ther bliſſe,
Ther hie maſtir is Beliall;
Chriſt his pore peple from 'hem wiſſe,
For al fuche falfe will foule befall.
They mowin both ybinde and loſe,
And all is for ther holy life;
To fave or dampne they mowen chofe;
Betwene 'hem now is a grete ftrife;
Many' a man is killed with a knife
To wete which havin lordſhip fhall;
For fuche Chrift fuffrid woundis five,
For all fuche falfhed will foule fall.
Chriſt ſaid, Qui gladio percutit,
With fwerde furely he fhall die;
He bad his pricftis pece and grith,
And bad 'hem not drede for to die,
And bad them be both fimple' and flie,
And carke not for no cattell,
And truſte on Ged that ſittith on hie,
For al falfe fhal full foule befall.
Thefe wollin makè men to fwere
Ayenſt Chriſt'is commaundiment,
And Chriſt'is members al to tere,
On rode as he were new yrent;
Suche lawes thei maken by affent,
Eche on it trowith as a ball,
And thus the pore be fully fhent,
But falfhed foule it fhulle befall.
Ne ufin thei no fimonie,
But felle churchis and priories,
Ne they ufin to none envie,
But curfin al 'hem contrarics,
THE
221
PLOWMAN'S
TALE.
And hirith men by daies and yeres
With ſtrength to hold 'hem in ther ſtall,
And culle all ther advarfaries,
Therfore falfhed foule thou them fall.
With purfe they purchaſe perſonage,
With purſe thei payin 'hem to plede,
And men of warre thei wollin wage
To bring ther enemies to dede,
And lordis livis they wol lede,
And muchil take, and give but ſmall,
But he' it fo get from it fhal fhede,
And make fuche falfe right foule yfall.
They halowe nothing but for hire,
Ne churche, ne font, ne veftiment,
And make orders in every fhire,
But prieftis pay for the parchment;
Of riatours they taken rent,
Therwith they ſmere the fhep'is fkall,
For many churches ben fufpent;
All fuche falfhed foule it befall.
Some livith not in lecherie,
But haunte wenchis, widows, and wives,
And punish the pore for putre,
Themfelfe it uſeth al ther lives ;
And but a man to them him fhrives
;
To hevin come he nevir fhall,
He fhal be curfed as be catives;
To hel thei faine that he ſhal fall.
Ther was more mercy' in Maximine,
And Nero, that never was gode,
Than there is now in ſome of them
Whan he hath on his furrid hode
They folowe Chrift that fhede his blode
To heven, as bucket to the wall;
Suche wrechis yben worſe than wode,
And al fuche faltours foule 'hem fall.
They give ther almis to the riche,
To mainteynours and men of lawe,
For to lordis they wol be liche,
And harlots fonne not worthe an hawe;
Sothfaftneffè alle fuche han flawe;
'They kembe ther crockettes with criſtall,
And drede of God they have doune drawe;
Al fuche faitours foule 'hem befall.
They make parfons for the pennie,
And canons and their cardinals;
Unnethe amongſt 'hem al is any
That ne hath glofed the goſpel fals,
For Chrift made ner no cathedrals,
Ne with him was no cardinall
With a redde hatte, as uſe minſtrals;
But falfhed foule mote it befall.
Ther tithing and ther offring bothe
They clemith by poffeffion,
Ne therof n'il they none forgo,
But robbin men as a raunfome:
The tithing of turpe lucrum
With theſe maifters is venialł;
Tithinge of bribry and larfon
Will make falfhed full foule to fall.
They takin to ferme ther fompnours
To harme the peple what they may,
To pardoners and falfe faitours
Thei fell ther feles I dare well fay,
And all to holdin gret arraie,
To multiplie 'hem more metall,
They drede ful litel dom'is day,
Whan al fuche falſhed fhal foule fall.
Suche harlottes fhul men difclaunder,
For that they fhullin make them gre,
And ben as proud as Alexander,
And fain to the pore Wo be ye!
By yere eche prieſt fhal paie his fe
For to encrefe his lemmans call;
Suche herdis fhul wel ivil the,
And al fuche falſe fhal foule befall,
And if a man be falfely famed,
And wol ymake purgacioun,
Than wol the' officers be agramed,
And affign him fro toun to toun;
So nede he muſt payin raunſome,
Though he be clene as is chriſtall,
And than have an abfolution;
But al fuche falfe fhal foule befall.
Though he be giltie of the dede,
And that he may the money paie,
Al the while his purſe wol yblede
He may uſe it fro day to day.
The biſhopes officers gone gay,
And this game they uſe ovir all,
The pore to pil is al their pray;
But al fuche falfe fhul foule befall.
Alas! God ordained no fuche lawe,
Ne no fuche crafte of covetiſe,
But he forbad it by his lawe;
Suche rulers mowen of God agrife,
For al his rulis ben rightwiſe :
Theſe newe pointis ben pure papall,
And Godd'is lawe they all difpice,
And al fuche faitours fhul foule fall.
They faine that Peter had the key
Of heven and hel, to have and holde;
I trowe Peter toke no money
For no finnis that he yfolde:
Suche fucceffours yben to bolde,
In winning all ther witte they wral,
Ther confcience is waxin colde,
And al fuch faitours foul 'hem fall.
Peter was ner fo grete a fole
To leve his key with fuche a lorell,
Or take fuche curfid foc or tole,
He was advifid nothing well;
I trowe they have the key of hell,
Their maiſtir is of that marſhall,
For there thei dreffin 'hem to dwell,
And with falfe Lucifer to fall.
Thei ben as proude as Lucifarre,
As angry and as envious;
From a gode faith they ben ful farre ;
In cove'tife they ben curious;
To catche catil as covitous
As hounde that for hungre wol yall,
Ungodly and ungracious;
And nedely fuche falfe fhal foule fall.
The Pope, and he were Peter's heire,
Me thinke he errith in this cafe,
Whan choife of bishop's in difpaire
To chofin 'hem in divers place,
222
THE PLOWMAN'S TALE.
A lorde fhal write to him for grace,
For his clerke anone praye he ſhall,
So fhal he fpedin his purchaſe;
And al fuche falfe foule 'hem befall.
Although he can ne manir gode
A lord'is prayir fhal be ſpedde,
Though he be wilde of wil or wode,
Nat underſtanding what men redde,
A leude boftir, that God forbedde,
As gode a biſhoppe' is my horſe Ball;
Suche a Pope is full foule beftede,
And at the lafte wol foule yfall.
He makith prieſtes for erthly thanke,
And not at all for Chrift'is fake;
Suche that yben ful fat and ranke,
To foul'is hele none hede they take j
Al is wel done what er they make,
For they ſhal anfwere ones for all;
For world'is thank fuch worch and wake,
And al fuche falfe fhal foule befall.
Suche that can nat yfay ther crede
With prayir fhul be made prelates;
Nothir can thei the goſpell rede,
Suche fhul now weldin hie eftates;
The hiè godes frendſhip 'hem makes,
'Thei totith on ther fumme totall;
Suche bere the keyes of hell'is yates,
And all fuche falfe fhal foule befall.
Thei forfakin for Chrift'is love
'Travaile, and hungre, thurfte, and colde
They ben ordrid or al above
Out of youthed til they ben olde;
By the' dore they go nat to the folde,
To helpe ther fhepe they nought traval,
For hirid men al fuche I holde,
And al fuche falſe foule 'hem befall.
For Chriſt our King thei wol forfake,
And knowe him nought for his poverte,
For Chrift'is love they wol awake,
And drinke piement al aperte:
Of God they feme nothing aferde,
As lufty live as Lamual,
And drive ther fhepe into defert;
Al fuche falfe faitours fhul foule fal.
Chriſt yhad twelve apoftles here,
Nowe fay they Ther may be but one
That may not erre in no manere,
Who leve not this ben loft echone:
Peter errid, fo did not John;
Why is he cleped the Principall?
Chriſte cleped him Peter, not the Stone;
Al falfe faitours foule 'hem befal.
{
Why curfin they the croiſery
Chriſt'is Chriftian creturis ?
For bytwene them is now cnvy
To be enhaunfid in honours;
Chriftin livers with ther labours,
For they levin on no mortal,
Ben do to deth with difhonours,
And al fuche falfe foule 'hem befal.
What knoweth a tilloure at the plowe
The Pop'is name, and what he hate?
His crede fuffifeth to' him inowe,
And knoweth a cardi'nal by his hatte.
;
Rough is the pore unrightly latté,
That knowith Chrift his God royal;
Suche maters be not worth a gnatte,
But fuche falfe faitours foule 'hem fal..
A king fhal knele and kiffe his fhowe,
Chrift let a finful kiffe his fete,
Me thinke he holdeth him hie inowe,
So Lucifer did, that hie fet:
Suche one me thinke himſelfe foryet,
Or to the trouth he was nat cal:
Chrifte that fuffirid woundis wete,
Shall make all fuche falfhed foule fall.
They layith out ther large nettes
For to takin filvir and golde,
Thei fillin coffers, and fackes fettes
Ther as they foulis catchin fholde;
Ther fervauntes be to them unholde,
But they can doublin ther rentall;
To bigge 'hem caftles bigge 'hem holde;
And al fuche falfe foule 'hem befall.
Here endeth the first parte of this Tale, and hereafte
folorveth the feconde parte.
To accorde what this word fall
No more Engliſhe ne can I finde,
Shewing anothir nowe I fhall,
For I have moche to faye behinde,
How prieftis han the peple pinde,
As curteis Chrifte yhath me kinde,
And put this matter in my minde,
To make this manir men amende,
Shortely to fhende 'hem, and fhewe nowe
How wrongfully they werche and walke,
Of hie God nothing tell, ne howe,
But in Goddes worde tell many a balke,
In harnis holde 'hem and in halke,
And prechen' of tithis and offrende,
And untruely of the gofpel talke;
For his mercy God it amende !
What els is Antichrifte to faie
But even Chrift'is adverfarie?
Suche hath now ben many a daie
To Chriſt'is bidding ful contrarie,
That from the trouthè clene ywarry;
Out of the way they ben ywende,
And Chriſt'is peple untruely cary;
God for his pitie it amende!
They live contrary to Chriftes life,
In hie pride againſt mekèneffe,
Againſt fuffraunce they ufin ftrife,
And angre ayenft fobreneffe,
Ayenift wifedom wilfulneſſe;
To Chrift'is talis litil tende,
Againſt meſure outrigioufneffe;
But whan God wol it may amende.
Lordely life ayenſt lowlineſſe,
And demin al without mercy,
And covetife ayenfte largeffe,
Ayeniſt trouthe trechery,
譬
​THE PLOWMAN'S TALE.
323
And ayenift almeſſe envy ;
Ayenift Chrift they comprehende;
For chaſtite mainteine leche'ry;
God for his grace this amende!
Againſt penaunce thei ufe delightes,
Ayenſt ſuffraunce ſtrong defence,
Ayenft God they ufin ill rightes,
Ayenift pitie puniſhmentes,
Open' evil ayenſt continence;
Ther wickid winning worfe difpende,
Sobirneffe fette in to difpence;
God for his godereffe it amende!
Why cleimin they holy' his powere,
And wranglin ayenſt al his heſtes?
His living fólowe thei nought here,
But livin worfe than witleffe beftes;
Of fiſhe and flefhe they lovin feſtes;
As lordis thei ben brode ikende ;
Of Godd'is pore thei hatin geftes;
God for his mercy this amende!
With Dives fuche fhal have ther dome,
That faine that they be Chriſt'is frendes,
And do nothing as they ſhould done,
Al fuche ben falfir than ben fendes:
On the peple they ley fuche bendes
As God in erth they han offende;
Succour for fuch Chrifte now fend us,
And for his mercy this amende!
A token' of Antichrift they be;
His careckes ben now wide iknowe,
Receved to preche ſhal no man be
Without tokin of him I trowe:
Eche Chriſtin prieſt to prechin owe,
From God above thei ben yfende
Goddes word to al folke for to fhowe,
And finful man for to amende.
Chriſt ſent the pore for to preche,
The royal riche he did not fo,
Now dare no pore the peple teche,
For Antichrift is al ther foe;
Among the peple he mote go,
He hath biddin al fuche fufpende,
Some hath he hent, and thinketh yet mo;
But al this God may wel amende.
Al tho that han the worlde forſake,
And livin lowly, as God badde,
Into ther prifon fhulle be take,
Betin and boundin, and forth ladde :
Hereof I rede no man be dradde,
Chrift faid that his fhould be yfhende;
Eche man ought hereof to be gladde,
For God ful wel it wol amende.
They take on 'hem royall power,
And fay they havin fwerdis two,
One curfe to hel, one fle men here:
At his taking Chriſt had no mo,
Yet Peter had but one of tho,
And Chrift to him fmite gan defende,
And into the' fheth badde put it tho;
And al fuche mifcheves God amende!
Chrift bad Peter to kepe his fhepe,
And with his fworde forbade 'hem fmite;
Swerde is no tole with fhepe to kepe,
But to fhepherdes that thepe wol bite
5
Me thinke fuche fhepherdes ben to wite
Who' ayen ther fhepe with fwerde contende;
They drive ther fhepe with grete deſpite;
But al this God may well amende.
Peter's fucceffoures be thei nought
Whom Chrift ymade his chefe paſtoure;
A fwerde no fhepherde ufin ought
But he would fle as a bochoure:
Who fo were Peter's fucceffoure
Should bere his fhepe til his backe bende,
And fhadowe 'hem from every fhoure;
And al this God may wel amende.
Succeffours to Peter ben theſe
In that, that Peter Chrifte forfoke,
That levir had God's love to lefe
Than fhepherde had to lefe his hoke;
He culleth the hepe as doth the coke ;
Of 'em takin they woll untrende,
And falfely gloſe the Goſpell boke;
God for his mercy them amende!
Whan Chrift had take Peter the kay
Chrift faide he muft ydie for man;
That Peter to Chrift gan withſay,
Chrifte bad him Go behinde, Sathan :
Suche counfailours many' of theſe han,
For world'is wele God to offende;
Peter's fucceffours they ben than
But al fuche God may wel amende.
For Sathan is to ſay no more
But he that contrary to Chrift is,
In this they lernin Peter's lore,
They fewin him whan he did miffe;
They folowe, him forfoth in this
That Chrift would Peter reprehende,
But nat that longith to' hevin bliſſe;
God for his mercie 'hem amende !
Thei none apoſtle fewen, in cafe
Of ought that I can underftonde,
But him that betraieth Chrift, Judas,
That bare the purſe in every londe,
And al that he might fette on honde
He hidde and ftale, and it mifpende:
His rule thefe traitours han in honde;
Almighty God all fuche amende!
And at the laft his lorde gan tray
Curfidly through falfe covetife,
So would thefe traine him for money
And they ywiftin in what wife;
They be fikre' of the fele enfife.
From all fothneffe they ben yfrende,
And covetife chaunge with quentiſe;
Almighty God al fuche amende!
Were Chrift upon erth, here efte fone,
Thefe wouldin dampnè hiin to die;
All his heftis they han fordone,
And faine his fawes ben herefie;
Ayenft his commaundementes they crie,
And dampnin all his to be brende,
For thei ne like fuche lofengrie;
God Almighty all fuche amende !
Thele han more might in Englande hero-
Than hath the king and all his lawe,
They han purchafid fuche powere
To takin 'hem whom lift not knawe,
224
THE PLOWMAN'S TALE.
t
•
And ſay that herefie' is ther fawe,
And fo to prifon wol 'hem inde;
It was not fo by eldir dawe;
God for his mercy it amende!
The king'is lawe wol no man deme
Angerliche withoutin anſwere,
But if any man thefe mifqueme
He fhall be baightid as a bere,
And yet wel worfe they wol him tere,
And in priſon wollin him pende
In ginis, and in othir gere;
Whan that God woll it may amende.
The king ne taxith nat his men
But by affent of the commi'nalte,
But thefe eche yere wol raunfom 'hem
Maiftirfully, more than dothe he:
Ther felis by yere bettir be
Than is the king'is in extende,
Ther officers han gretir fe;
But alle this mifchefe God amende!
Who fo wol prove a teſtament
That is nat al worth tennè pounde,
He fhal paye for the parchement
The thirde of the money all rounde;
Thus the pore peple is ranfounde,
They fay fuche parte t'em fhould apende,
There as they gripen' it goeth to grounde;
God for his mercy it amende!
A fimple fornication
Twenty fhillingis he fhall pay,
And than have abfolucion
And al the yere uſe it he may :
Thus thei lettin 'hem go aftray;
Thei recke nat though the foule be brende;
Thefe kepin evill Peter's kay;
And al fuche fhepherdes God amende !
Wondir is that the parliamente,
And all the lordis of this londe,
Here to takin fo lite entente
To helpe the peple' out of ther honde,,
For thei ben hardir in ther bonde,
Worfe bete, and cruellir ybrende,
Than to the king is underſtand;
God him helpe this for to amende!
What bifhoppes, what religions,
Han in this lande as muche lay fe,
Lordeſhippis and poffeffions,
More than lordis it femith me;
That makith 'hem lefe charite:
They mowin not to God attende,
In erth thei have fo highe degre;
God for his mercy it amende!
The Empe'rour yafe the Pope fomtime
So highè lordefhip him about,
That at the laſt the fely kime
The proudè Pope yput him out,
So of this relme is in grete dout;
But, Lordes, beware, and them defende,
For nowe thefe folke be wondir ftoute;
The king and lords now this amende.
MOYSES lawe forbode it tho
That preftis ſhould no lordſhippes welde
Chriſt'is goſpell biddith alſo
That they fhould no lordfhippis helde;
Chriftes apoftels were ner fo bolde,
No fuche lordſhippes to 'hem embrace,
But fklere ther fhepe and kepe ther folde;
May God amende 'hem for his grace !
For thei ne ben but counterfete,
Men may yknow 'hem by ther fruite,
Ther greteneffe maketh 'hem God foryete,
And take his mekteneffe in deſpite ;
And thei were pore and had but lite
Thei n'old nat demen' aftir the face,
Norifhe ther thepe, and 'hem nat bite;
May God amende 'hem for his grace!
Griffon.
What canft thou preche ayenſt chanons
That men yclepin Seculere?
Pellican.
Thei ben curates of many tounes,
On yerth they havin grete powere,
They have grete prebendis and dere,
Some two or thre, and ſome have mo,
A parfonage to ben playing fere,
And yet thei ferve the king alſo,
And let to-fermè all that fare
To whom that wol mofte give therfore,
Some wollin ſpende, and fome woll fparc,
And fome wol laye it up in ftore;
A cure of foule they care not fore,
So that they mowin money take;
Whethir ther foules be wonne or lore
Ther profites they woll not forfake.
They have a gedering procuratour,
That can the pore peple enplede,
And roble 'hem as a ravinour,
And to his lorde the mony lede,
And catche of quicke and eke of dede,
And richin him and his lorde eke,
And to robbe the pore give gode rede
Of olde and yonge, of hole and ficke.
Therwith they purchaſe 'hem lay fe
In londe, there as 'hem likith beſt,
And buildin brode as a cite
Both in the eft and in the weft;
To purchaſe thus they ben ful preft,
But on the pore they woll nought ſpende,
Ne no gode give to Godd'is geft,
Ne fende him fome that all hath fende.
By ther ſervice foche wollin live,
And truft that othir to trefure;
Though all ther pariſhe die unfhrive
Thei woll nat givin a rofe floure;
Ther life fhould be as a mirrour
Both to lerid and leude alfo,
And teche the folke ther lele labour;
Soche maifter men ben all mifgo.
Some of 'hem yben full harde nigges,
Thus endeth the feconde parte of this Tale, and hereafter And fome of 'hem ben proude and gaie,
foloweth the thirde.
Some ſpendin ther gode upon gigges
And findin 'hem of grete araie.
A
THE
PLOWMAN'S TALÈ.
Alas! what thinke thefe men to ſaie
That thus difpendin Godd'is gode?
At the grete dredefull don'is daie
Soche wretchis fhall be worfe than wode:
Some ther churchis nevir ne fie,
Ne ner o penie thidir fende;
Though that the pore for hungit die,
O penie' on 'hem will thei not ſpende :
Have thei receiving of the rente
Thei recke ner of the remènaunt;
Alas! the devill hath clene 'hem blente;
Soche one is Sathanes fojournaunt.
And ufe horedome and harlottrie,
And covetife, and poupe, and pride,
And flothe, and wrathe, and eke envie,
And ſewin finne by every fide;
Alas! where thinkin foche t'abide?
How well thei ther accomptis yeld?
From hie God thei mowe 'hem not hide
;
Soche willers witte' is not worth a nelde;
Thei ben fo rotid in richeffe
That Chrift'is povert is foryet;
Yfervid with fo many meffe
Hem thinke that manna is no mete :
All is gode that thei mowin gete;
Thei wene to livin evirmore;
But whan that God at dome is fete
Sochc trefour is a feble ſtore.
Unnethis mote thei matins faie
For counting and for courtholding,
And yet he jangilith as jaie,
And underfront himſelf nothing;
He woll yferve bothe erle and king
For his finding and for his fe,
And hide his tithing and offring;
This is a feble charite.
Othir thei ben proude or cove'tous;
Or elles thei ben hard or hungrie,
Or thei ben libe'rall or lecherous,
Or els medlers with marchandrie,
Mainteiners of men with maiſtrie,
Or ftewardes, countours, or pledours,
And ferve God in ypocrifie;
Soche prieſtis ben Chriftes falfe traitours.
Thei ben falſe, thei ben vengeable,
And begile men in Chrift'is name;
Thei ben unftedfaft and unftable;
To traie ther Lorde 'hem thinke no fhame;
To fervin God thei ben full lame;
Godd'is thevis, and falfely ftelę,
And fallely Godd'is worde defame;
In winning is ther world'is wele.
Antichrift theſe prieſtis ferve all,
I praie the who maie fayin Naic?
With Antichrift foche fhullin fall,
Thei folowen him in dede and faie;
Thei fervin him in riche araie,
To fervin Chriſt foche falfely fain;
Why at the dredfull dom'is daie
Shull thei not folowe him to pain?
That knowen 'hem felf that thei doen ill
Ayenft Chrift'is commaundèment,
And amende 'hem ner ne will,
But ferve Sathan by one affent,
VOL. I.
Who fayith fothe he ſhall be ſhent,
Or fpeketh ayenſt ther falſe living,
Who fo well livith fhall be brent,
For foche ben gretir than the king.
Popis, biſhops, and cardinals,
Chanons, and parfons, and vicare,
In Goddes fervice I trowe ben fals
That facramentis fellin here,
And ben as proude as Lucifere :
Eche man loke whethir that I lie;
Who fo fpekith ayenft ther powere
It ſhall be holdin herefie.
Lokith how many orders take
Onely of Chrift for his fervice,
That the world'is godis forfake;
Who fo take ordirs othir wife
I trowe that thei fhall fore agrife,
For all the glofe that thei conne,
All ne fewin not this affife;
In evill time thei thus begonne:
Loke how many emong hem all
Ne holdin not this hie waie
With Antichrift thei fhullin fall,
For that thei wollin God betraie :
God amende 'hem, that beft ymaie!
For many men thei makin fhende;
Thei wetin well the fothe I faie,
But the devill hath foule 'hem blende.
Som of 'hem on ther churchis dwell
Apparailled pörely; proude of porte;
The feven facramentes thei dgen fell;
In cattell catching' is ther comfort :
Of eche matter thei wollin mell;
To doen 'hem wrong is ther diſport;
To afraie the peple thei ben fell,
And hold 'hem lower than doeth the lorde.
And for the tithing of a ducke,
Or of an apple or an aië,
Thei make men fwere upon a boke;
Lo! thus thei foulin Chriſt'is faie :
Soche berin evill hevin kaie;
Thei mowin affoile, thei mowe fhrive,
With mennis wivis ftrongly plaie,
And with true tillers, fturte and ſtrive,
At the wreſtling and at the wake,
And the chief chauntours at the nale,
Market beters, and medling make,
Hoppen' and houtin with heve and hale;
At faire freſhe, and at wine ſtale,
Thei dine and drinke, and make debate,
The feven facramentes fet a faile;
Kepe foche the kaies of hevin gate?
Mennis wivis thei wollin hold,
And though that thei ben right fory,
To fpeke thei fhull not be fo bold,
For fompning to' the confiftory,
And make 'hem faie with mouthe Ì lieg
Though thei it fawin with ther eye
His lemman holdin opinly
No man fo harde to alke why.
He woll have tithing and offring
Maugre whofoevir it grutche,
And twife on the daie he woll fing i
Godd'is prieftis ne were none foche;
P
416
FLOWMAN'S TALE.
THE
He mote go hunte with dogge and biche,
And blowen his horne and cryin Hey,
And forcerie ufen as a witche;
Soche kepin evill Peter's key.
Yet thei mote have fome stocke or ſtone
Gaily paintid and proudly dight,
To makin men livin upon,
And faie that it is full of might,
About foche men fet up grete light,
Other foche ſtockes full ftande therby
As darke as if it were midnight,
For it maie makin no maſtrie.
That it the leude peple fe mowe,
Thou Mary, thou worcheft wendir thinges,
About that that men offrin to
Hongin brochis, ouchis, and ringes;
The prieſt purchafith the offringes,
But he n'ill offir to' none image :
Wo is the foule that he forfinges
That prechith for foche pilgrimage!
To inen and women that ben pore,
Which that ben Chrift'is owne likeneffe,
Men fhullen offir at ther dore,
That fuffre hungir and diſtreffe,
And to foche image offir leffe,
That nowe not fele ne thirftene cold;
The pore in fpirite gan Chrift bleffe,
Therfore offrith to feble" and old.
Buckilers brode and fwerdis long,
Baudrike, with bafelardis kene,
Soche toles about ther necke thei hong:
With Antichrift foche prieſtis ben;
Upon ther dedes it is well fehe
Whom thei fervin, whom thei honouren;
Antichriſt'is thei ben all clene,
And Godd'is godes falfly devouren.
Of fcarlet and grene gaiê gounes,
That mote be fhapin for the newe,
To clippin and kiſſin in tounes
The damofeles that to the daunce fewe,
Cuttid clothes to fewe ther hewe,
With long pikis on ther fhone:
Our Godd'is goſpell is not true;
Either thei ferve the devill or none.
Now ben the prieſtis pokes fo wide
Men mult enlarge the veftiment,
'The holy goſpell they doen hide
For the contrarien in raiment ;
Such priftes of Lucifer ben fent :
Like conquerours thei ben araied,
The proude pendauntes at ther ars pent,
Falfely the trueth thei han betraied.
. Shrift filvir foche wollin afkeis,
And wollin men crepe to the crouche;
None of the facramentes fave afkis
Withouten moede fhall no man touche;
On ther biſhop ther warant vouche,
'That is a law of the decre:
With mede and money thus thei mouche,
And thus thei fain is charite.
Within the middis of ther maffe
Thei n'ill have no man but for hire,
And full ſhortly let forth ypaffe;
Noche fhull men findin in eche fhire
That parfonages for gaine defire
To live in liking and in luftes;
I dare not fain fans ofe jeo dire
That foche ben Antichrift'is prieſtis.
Or thei ycf the biſhoppis why,
Or thei mote ben in his fervice,
And holdin forth ther harlottric,
Soche prelates ben of feble' empriſe;
Of Godd'is grame foche men agiiſe,
For foche mattirs that takin mede,
How thei' excufe hem, and in what wife,
Methinketh thei ought gretely drede.
Thei fain that it to no man longeth
To reprove them though that thei erre,
But falfly Godd'is godes thei fongeth,
And therwith maintein wo and werre;
Ther dedes ſhould be as bright as ſterre,
Ther living leud: mann'is light :
Thei faie the Pope ne maie not erre;
Nede muſt that paffin mann'is might.
Though' a priest lie with his lemman' al night,
And tellen his felowe and he him,
He goith to maffe anon right,
And faieth he fingeth out of finne ;
His birde abideth him at his inne,
And dighteth his diner the mene while,
He fingeth his maffe for he would winne
And fo he wenith God begile.
'Hem thinkith long till thei be met,
And that thei ufe forth all the yere;
Emong the folke whan he is fet
He holdith no man half his pere:
Of the bishop he hath powere
To foile men, or els thei ben lore,
His abfolucion maketh them fkere;
Bois the foule that he fingeth for!
The Griffon began for to threte,
And faied, Of monkis canft thou ought?
The Pelli'can faid, Thei ben full grete,
And in this world moche wo hath wrought;
Saint Benet, that ther ordir brought,
Ne made 'hem ner in foche manere,
I trowe it came ner in his thought
That thei fhould ufe fo grete powere.
That a man fhould a monke Lorde call,
Ne ferve him on knees as a king;
He is as proude as prince in pall,
In metc and drinke, and in all thing:
Some weren a miter and ring,
With double worſtid well idight,
With rolall mete and richè drinke,
And ride on courfer as a knight.
"
With haukis and with houndis eke,
With broche or ouchis on his hode;
Some faie no maffe in all a weke;
Of deintees is ther moftê fode
With lordfhippis and with bondmen a
This is a roiall regioun ;
Saint Benet made ner non of 'hem'
To have lordship of man ne toune.
Now thei ben queint and curious,
With fine clothe clad and fervid clent,
Proude, and angrie, and envious,
Malice is mochil that thei nue
THE
227
PLOWMAN'S TALE.
In catching craftie and covetous,
Lordly livin in grete liking;
This living' is not religious
According to Benet's living.
Thei ben clerkes, and courts ovir ſe,
Ther pore tenaunce fully thei flite;
The hier a man amercid be
The gladlyir thei woll it write :
This is farre from Chriftes poverte,
For all with cove'tiſe thei endite;
On the pore thei have no pite,
Ne ner 'hem cherishe but or bite.
And comminly foche ben comen
Of pore peple', and of 'hem begete,
That this perfection han inomen :
Ther fathirs ride but on their fete,
And travaile fore for that thei ete,
In povert livith yong and old;
Ther fathirs fuffreth drought and wete,
Many hungrie meles, thrurfte, and cold.
And all this the monkes har forfake
For Chrift'is love and Sainct Benete,
To pride and efe have 'hem betake;
This religion is ill befete :
Had thei ben out of gret religion
Thei muſt have hangid at the plowe,
Threshid and diked fro toune to toune;
With forie mete not halfe inowe.
Therfore thei han this all forfake,
And take to riches, pride, and efe;
Full fewe for God wol monkes 'hem make,
Lite is foche ordir for to praiſe;
Sainct Benet ordained it not ſo,
But bad hem to the cherèliche,
In churchliche manir live and go,
Boiftous in yerth, and not lordliche.
Thei difclaunderin Sainct Benet,
Therfore thei have his holy curfe;
Saint Benet with hem never met
But if thei thought to robbe his purſe:
I can no more here of 'hem tell
But that thei ben like tho before,
And clene ferve the devill of hell,
And ben his trefure and his ftore;
And all foche othir counterfaitours,
Chanons, canons, and foche difgiſed,
Ben Godd'is enemies and traitours,
His religion han foule diſpiſed;
And of freris I have before
Told in a makin of a crede,
And yet I could tell worſe and more,
But men would werien it to rede.
As Goddes godenes no man tell might,
Ne write ne fpeke, ne thinke in thought,
So ther falfhed and ther unright
Maie no man tell that ere God wrought.
The Griffon faied, Thou canst no gode,
Thou came ner of no gentill kinde;
Othir I trowe thou waxift wode
Or ellis thou haft lofte thy minde.
Should holy churche yhave no hedde
Who fhould ybe her governaile,
Who fhould her rule, who fhould her redde,
Who ſhould her forthren, who availe ?
Eche man fhall live by his travaile;
Who beft doith fhall have moß mede :
With ftrength if men the churche affaile
With ftrength men muft defende her nede.
And if the Pope were purely pore
And nedy, and nothing ne had,
He fhuld be drive from dore to dore;
The wickid of him n'olde not drad :
Of foche an hedde men would be fade,
And finfully liven' as 'hem luft;
With ſtrength amendis foche be made,
With wepin wolves from fhepe be wuft.
If that the Pope and prelates would
So begge and bid, bowe and borowe,
Holy churche fhould yftande fuli cold,
Her fervauntes fit and foupe forowe;
And thei were noughtie, foule, and horowe,
To worship God nien would wlate
Both on evin and on morowe
Sochè harlotrie men would hate.
And therfore men of holy churche
Shouldin be honefte in all thing,
And worſhipfull God's workis werche;
So femeth it to ſerve Chriſt ther king
In honeſt and in clene clothing,
With veffels of gold and clothes riche
To God honeftly to' make offring,
For to his lordship none is liche.
The Pellican caft an houge crie,
And faied, Alas! why faieft thou fo?
Chrift is our hede that fitteth on hie,
Heddis ne ought we have no mo;
We ben his membres bothe alfo
Fathir he taught us call him als,
Maifters to call forbad he tho;
All maifters ben wickid and fals
That takith maiftrie in his name
Ghoftly, and to win yerthly gode;
Kingis and lordes ſhould lordſhip have,
And rule the peple with milde mode,
But Chrift, for us that ſhed his blode,
Bad his priests no maiftirfhip have,
Ne carke not for clothis ne fode;
From all miſchief he woll 'hem fave:
Ther riche clothes fhall be rightwifneffe,
Ther trefure a true life fhall be,
Charite fhal be ther richeffe,
Ther Lordſhip ſhall be unite,
And hope in God ther honefte,
Ther veffell a clene confcience;
Pore in fprite, and humilite,
Shall be holy church'is defence.
What! faied the Griffon, maie the greve
That othir folkis faren wele?
What haft thou to doin with ther live?
Thy falſhed every man maie fele,
For thou ne canst no cattell gete,
But liveft in londe as a lorell,
With glofing gettiſt thou thy mete
So farith the devil in hell.
;
He would that eche man there fhould dwell,
For he livith in clene envie,
So with the tales that thou doeſt tell
Thou wouldest ethir peple deftrie
Pij
278
THE FLOWMAN'S TALE.
With your glofe and your herefie,
For ye can live no bettir life
But clene in fals hypocrifie,
And bringift the in wo and ftrife.
And therwith have ye not doen,
For ye ne havin here ne cure;
Ye ferve the devill, not God ne man
And he ſhall payin you your hire;
ye wol farin wel at feſtes,
And be warm clothid for the cold,
'Therfore ye glofin Godd'is heftes,
And begile peple yong and old.
For
4.
And all the fevin facramentes
Ye ſpeke ayenſt as ye were flic,
Tithings, offringes, with your ententes,
And on your Lord'is body lie:
All this ye doen to live in eſe,
As who fayith ther ben none ſoche,
And fain The Pope' is not worth a peſe,
To make the peple' ayen him groche.
And this ycommith in by fendes
To bring the Chriftin in diftaunce,
For thei would that no man were frendes.
Levith thy chattring with miſchaunce!
If thou live well what wilt thou more?
Let othir men live as 'hem liſt,
Spendin ther gode or kepe in ſtore;
Othir mennes confcience ner thou n'ift.
Ye han no cure to anfwere fore;
What meddle' ye that han not to doen?
Let men live as thei han doen yore,
For thou shalt anſwere for no man.
The Pellican fayid, Sir, naie,
I ne difpifid not the Pope
Ne no facrament, fothe to faie,
But fpeke in charite' and gode hope :
But I difpife ther hie pride,
.
Ther welthe that ſhould be pore in fprite;
'Ther wickidneffe is knowe fo wide,
Thei fervin God in falfe habite,
And tournin mekeneffe into pride,
And lowlineffe into' hie degre,
And Godd'is wordis tourne and hide,
And I am moved by charite
To lettin men to livin fo
With all my conning and my might,
And to warnin men of ther wo,
And to tellin 'hem trouth and right.
The facramentes be foul'is hele
If thei ben ufid in gode uſe;
Ayenſt that ſpeke I ner a dele,
For than ne were I nothing wife;
But thei that ufe 'hem in miffe manere,
Or fet 'hem up to any ſale,
I trowe thei fhall abie 'hem dere;
This is my refon, this my tale :
Who fo taketh hem unrightfulliche
Ayenft the ten commandementes,
Or elles by glofe wrechidliche
Selleth any of the facramantes,
I trowe thei doe the devill homage,
In that thei wetin thei doe wrong,
And therto I dare well to wage
Thei ſerve Sathan for all their ſong.
To tithen' and offre' is holome life,
So it be doen in due manere,
A man to houfelin and to ſhrive,
Wedding, and all othir in fere.
So it be nother folde ne bought,
Ne také ne give for covetiſe,
And it be fo taken' it is nought;
Who felleth him fo maie fore agrife:
On our Lordes body' I doe not lie,
I faie the ſothe thorough true rede,
His flefhe and blode, through his miſterie,
Is there all in the forme of brede.
How it is there it nedeth not ftrive,
Whethre' it be fubget or accident,
But as Chrift was whan he' was on live
So is he there in verament.
If Pope or cardi'nall live gode live,
As Chriſt us bad in his goſpell,
Ayenft that ne woll I not ftrive,
But me thinkith thei live not well;
For if the Pope lived as God bedde,
Pride and highneffe he ſhould diſpiſe,
Richeffe, covetife, and croune on hedde;
Mekeneffe and poverte' he fhould uſe.
The Griffon faied he fhould abaie,
Thou shalt be brent in balefull fire,
And all thy fect I fhall diftrie;
Ye fhall be hangid by the fwire.
Ye fhulle be hangid and to drawe
Who givith you leve for to preche,
Or fpekin ayenſt Godd'is lawe,
And the peple thus falfely teche?
Thou shalt be curfed with boke and bel
And diffevered from holie churche,
And clene idampnid into hell,
Othirwife but ye wollin worche.
The Pelli'can faied, That I ne drede;
Your curfing is of lite value;
Of God I hope to have my mede,
For it is falfaed that ye fhewe,
For ye ben out of charite,
And wilne vengeaunce, as did Nero:
To fuffrin I wol redy be;
I drede not all that thou canſt do.
Chrift bad ones fuffre for his love,
And fo he taught all his fervauntes,
But thou' amende for his fake above a
I drede not all thy maintenaunce;
For if I drede the world'is hate,
Me thinkith I were lite to praife:
I drede nothing your hie eftate,
Ne I ne drede not your diſeſe.
Wollin ye tourne and leve your pride,
And your hie porte and your richeſſe,
Your curfing fhould not go fo wide;
God bring you into right wiſeneſſe !
For I drede not your tirannie,
For nothing that ye can ydoen;
To fuffre I am all redie,
Sikir I recke nevir how fone.
The Griffon grinned as he were wode,
And lokid lovely as an owle,
And fwore by cock'is herte and blode
He wold him tere every doule;
THE PLOWMAN'S TALE.
239
Holy churche thou diſclaundrift foule;
For thy fpeche I woll the to race,
And make thy fleſh to rote and moule;
Lofell, thou fhalt have hardè grace.
The Griffon flewe forth on his waie,
The Pellican did fit and wepe,
And to himſelf he gan to faie,
God would that any of Chriftes fhepe
Had herdin, and itaken kepe
Eche a word that here ſayid was,
And would it write and well ikcpe;
God would it were all for his grace!
Plowman.
I anſwerid, and faied I would,
If for my travaile one would pey.
Pellican.
He faied yes; theſe ther God han fold,
For thei han grete ftore of money.
Plowman.
I fayid, Tell me and thou maie,
Why telliſt thou menn'is treſpace?
Pellican.
He ſaid, To' amende hem in gode fay,
If God woll give me any grace;
For Chrift himſelf is liken to me,
That for his peple died on rode;
As fare I right ſo farith he,
He fedith his birdes with his blode :
But theſe doen evill ayenſt Gode,
And ben his foen undir frendes face;
I told 'hem how ther living ftode,
And God amende 'hem for his grace !
Plorvman.
What ailith the Griffon, tell why
That he holdith on the' othir ſide,
For thei two yben likily ·
And with indis yrobin wide.
Pellican.
The foule betokinith pride,
As Lucifer that high flewe was,
And fith he did him in ill hide,
For he agilted Godd'is grace.
As birde flyith up in the aire,
And livith by birdes that ben meke,
So thefe ben flowe up in difpaire,
And fhendin fely foulis eke;
'The foulis that ben in finnes eke
He culleth 'hem; knele therfore, alas!
For bribrie Godd'is forbode breke;
But God amende it for his grace!
The hinder parte is a loun,
A robber and a raviner,
That robbeth the peple in yerth doune,
And in yerth holdith none his pere:
So fareth this foule both ferre and nere,
With tempo'rel ftrength the peple chaſe
As a lion proude in yerth here;
May God amende 'hem for his grace!
Pellican.
He flewe forth with his wingis twain
All drouping, and dafid, and dull,
But fone the Griffon came again,
Of his foulis the yerth was full;
The Felli'can he had caft to pull,
So grete nombre ner fene ther was,
What manir of foules telle I woll,
If God wol give me of his grace.
With the Griffon come foulis fele,
Ravins, rokis, crowis, and pie,
And graie foulis, agadrid wele,
Igurde above they wouldin hie,
Gledis and bofardes weren 'hem by,
White molles and puttockes toke ther place,
And lapwinges, that wel conith lie;
This company' han forlete ther grace.
Long while the Pellican was oute,
But at last he commith againe,
And brought with him the phenix ftoute;
The Griffon would have flow ful faine,
His foulis flewen as thicke as raine,
The phenix tho began 'hem chace;
To flie from him it was in vaine,
For he did vengeaunce and no grace.
He flewe 'hem doune without mercy;
There eftarte neither fre ne thrall;
On him they caft a rufull crie
Whan that the Griffon doun was fall;
He bete him not, but flewe hem all :
Where he 'hem drove no man may trace :
Under the erth methought they yall;
Alas, they had a feble grace!
The Pellican then axid right
For my writing if I have blame
Who then wol for me fight of flight?
Who fhullin fheldè me from fhame?
He that yhad a maide to dame,
And the Lambe that flaine ywas,
Shal ſheldin me from goftly blame,
For erthely harme is Godd'is grace.
Therfore I pray every man
Of my writing have me excuſed,
This writing writeth the Pellican,
That thus theſe pcple hath diſpiſed ;
For I am freſhe fully adviſed
I n'ill not maintene his menace,
For the devill is ofte diſguiſed
To bring a man to evil grace.
Witith the Pelli'can and not me,
For herof I n'il not avowe
In hie ne lowe, ne no degre,
But as fable take it ye mowe.
To holy churche I will me bowe;
Eche man to' amende him Chrifte fende ſpacel
And for my writing me alowe
He that' is almighty for his grace,
Here endeth the Plowman's Tale.
P iij
23
THE PARDONERE AND TAPSTERE,
y
THE PROLOGUE;
Or, The mery adventure of the Pardonere and Tapflere at the Inn at Canterbury.
WHE
HEN all this freſh felefhip were come to Can-As thoughe he had iknowen hir al the rathir
tirbury,
As ye have herde to fore, with Talys glad and
merry,
Som of fotill fentence of vertue and of lore,
And fom of othir mirthis, for them that hold no
Of wiſdom, ne of holynes, ne of chivalry, [ftore
Nethir of vertuoufe matere, but to foly
Leyd wit and luftis all to fuch japis
As hurlewaynes meyne in every hegg that rapes
Thorough unſtabill mynde, ryght as the levis
grene
Stondewn ageyn the wedir, ryght fo by them I
mene :
But no more hereof nowe at this ilche tyme,
In faving of my fentence, my Prolog, and my
ryme.
They toke ther in, and loggit them at mydmo-
rowe I trowe,
Alle cheker of the hope that many a man doth
knowe;
Their Hooft of Southworke, that with them went,
as ye have herde to fore,
That was rewler of them al, of las and eke of
more,
Ordeyned their dyner wifely or they to chirch
went,
Such vitaillis as he fonde in town, and for noon
othir fent.
The Pardonere behelde the befynes, how ftatis
wer ifervid,
Difkennyng hym al prively, and a fyde fwervid;
The hoftelere was fo halowid fro o plafe to an-
other,
He toke his ftaffe to the Tapftere: Welcom myn
own brother,
Quod fhe, with a frendly loke, al redy for to kys;
And he, as a man i lerned of fuch kyndnes,
Bracyd hir by the myddyll, and made hir gladly
chere,
yeer:
She halid hym into the tapftry there hir bed way
was makid;
Lo, here I ligg, (quod fhe) myſelf al nyght al .
nakid,
Without manny's company fyn my love was dede,
Jenkyn Harpour, yf ye hym knewe: from fete
to the hede
Was not a luftier perſone to daunce ne to lepe
Then he was, thoughe I it fey and therwith to
wepe
She made, and with hir napron feir and white
ywafh
She wypid foft hir eyen for teris that fhe out lafh
As grete as any mylftone; upward gon they
ftert
For love of her fwetyng, that fat ſo nighe hir
hert:
She wept and waylid, and wrong her hondis, and
made much to done,
For they that loven ſo paffyngly fuch trowes they
She
have echon :
fnyffith, fighith, and fhoke hire hede, and
made rouful cher :
|
Yee make forwe inowgh, quod he, your life
though ye fhuld lefe.
Benedicite! quod the Pardonere, and toke hir by
the ſwere,
It is no wondir, quod fhe than; and therwith fhe
gan to fnefe.
Aha! al hole, quod the Pardonere; your penaunce
is fomewhat paffid.
God forbede it els! quod fhe, but it were fom
what laffid;
I might nat lyve els, thowe wotift, and it ſhuld
long endure:
Now bleffid be God of mendementc of hele and
eke of cure!
THE FARDONERE
232
AND TAPSTERE.
Quod the Pardonere tho anoon, and toke hir by]
the chynne,
And fayd to hir theſe wordis tho; Alas that love
is fyn!
So kynd a lover as ye be oon, and fo trew of
herte,
For be my trewe confcience yit for yewe I fmerte,
And fhall this month hereafter, for your foden
difefe;
Now wele wer hym ye lovid fo he coud you
plefe;
I durft fwere upon a book that trewe he fhuld yewe
fynd,
For he that is fo yore dede is grene in yeur mynd.
Ye made me a fory man; I dred ye wold have |
ftervid.
Graunt mercy, gentil Sir, quod fhe, that ye un-
afervid:
Yee be a nobile man, ibleffid mut yee be:
Sit down; ye fhul drynk. Nay I wis (quod he)
I am faftyng yit, myne own hert'is rote.
Faftyng yit, alafs! quod fhe; therof I can gode
bote.
She ftert into the town and fet a py al hote,
And fet to fore the Pardonere; Jenken, I ween
I n'ote
Is that your name I yow prey. I wis, nuyn own
fuftir,
So was I enformed of them that did me foftir.
And what is yowrs? Kitt, iwis; fo cleped me
my dame.
And Godd'is bleffing have thow, Kitt; now broke
wel thy name;
And privylich unlafid his both eyen liddes,
And lokid hir in the vifage paramour and amyddis,
And fighed there with a litil time that the it here
myghte,
And gan to rown and feyn this fong, Now, love,
then do me righte.
Ete and be merry, quod fhe; why breke ye nowt
your faft?
To wait more felefhip it were but work in wafte.
Whi make ye fo dull chere? for your love at
home?
Nay, forfooth, myne own hert, it is for you aloon,
For me? alas! what fey ye? that wer a ſimple prey.
Trewlich yit, quod the Pardonere, it is as I yewe
fey.
Ye, etith and beth mery; we wol fpeke therof
fone;
Brennyd cat dredith feir: it is mery to be a loon;
For by our Lady Mary, that bare Jefus on hir
I coud nevir love yit but it did me harm, [arm,
For evir my manere hath be to love ovirmuch.
Now Crift'is bleffing, qupd the Pardonere, go with
al fuch.
Lo! how the clowdis worchyn ech man to mete
his mach,
For trewly, gentil Criſtian, I uſe the ſame tach,
And have ydo many a yer: I may it nat forbere,
For Kynd woll have his cours though men the con-
trary fwere:
And therwith he ſtert up ſmertly and caſt down
a grote.
What fhal this do, gentil Sir? Nay, Sir, for my
I n'old ye payd a peny her and fo fone pas. [cote
The Pardoner fwore his grette othe he wold pay
no las.
|
|
I wis, Sir, it is ovir do, but fith it is yowr will
I woll putt it in my purfe left yee it take in ill
To refufe your curtefy: and therwith the gan to
bowe.
Now trewly, quod the Pardoner, yeur maners
been to lowe,
For had ye countid ftreytly, and nothing left behind,
I might have wele ydemed that ye be unkind,
And eke untrewe of hert, and fooner me forgete,
But ye lift be my treforer, for we fhall offter mete.
Now certen, quod the Tapfter, ye have a rede ful
even,
As wold to God ye couth as wele undo my fweven
That I my felf did mete this nyght that is ypaffid,
How I was in a chirch when it was all ymaffid,
And was in my devocioune tyl fervice was al doon,
Tyl the preeft and the clerk boyitly bad me goon,
And put me out of the chirch with an egir mode.
Now Seynt Daniel, quod the Pardonere, your
fwevyn turn to gode,
And I woll halfow it to the beft, have it in yeur
mynd,
For comyngly of theſe ſwevyngs the contrary men
fhul fynd.
Ye have be a lover glad, and litil joy yhad;
Plick up a lufty hert, and be mery and glad,
For ye fhul have an hufbond that ſhall yewe wed
to wyve,
That fhal love yewe as hertly as his own lyve.
The precft that put yew out of chirch fhall lede
you in ageyne,
And helpe to yeur mariage with al his might and
main.
This is the fweven al and fom Kit; how likith the?
Be my trowith wondir wele, bleffid mut thou we be?
Then toke he leve at that tyme, tyll he come efft-
fone,
And went to his felefhip (as it was to doon)
Thoughe it be no grete holynes to prech this ilk
matere,
And that fom liſt to her it, yit, Sirs, ner the latter
Endurith for a while and fuffrith them that woll,
And ye fhull her how the Tapfler made the Par-
doner pull
Garlik all the long nyghte til it was ner end day;
For the more chere he made of love the falfir
was her lay;
But litil charge gaff ſhe therof, tho the acquit his
while,
For ethir is thought and tent was othir to begile,
As ye fhul here hereaftir, when tyme comith and
fpafe
To meve fuch matere. But now a litil ſpafe
I wol return me ageyn to the company,
The Knyghte and al the felefhip, and nothing for
tọ ly.
Piiij
$32
AND TAPSTERE.
THE PARDONERE
Whan they wer al yloggit, as ſkil wold and refon,
Everich aftir his degre, to chirch then was fefon
To pas and to wend to make their offringis,
Righte as their devocioune was, of filver broch❘
and rynges;
Then at chirch dorr the curteſy gan to ryfe
Tyl the Knyght, of gentilnes that knewe right
wele the guyfe,
Put forth the prelatis, the Parfon, and his fere,
A Monk that took the fpryngill with a manly chere,
And did as the manere is, moilid al their patis
Everich aftir othir, righte as they were of ftatis :
The Frer feynyd fetoufly the fpryngill for to hold
To fpryng oppon the remnaunt, that for his cope
he n'old
Have laft that occupacioune in that holy plafe,
So longid his holy conſcience to fe the Nonn'is fafe.
The Knyght went with his compers toward the
holy fhryne
To do that they wer com for, and aftir for to
dyne;
The Pardoner and the Miller, and othir lewde
fotes,
Sought 'hem felf in the chirch right as lewd gotes,
Pyrid faft and pourid high upon the glafe,
Counterfetyng gentilmen the armies for to blafe,
Difkynering faft the peyntur, and for the ſtory
mournid,
And a red al fo right as rammys hornyd.
He berith a balſtaff, quod the toon, and els a ra-
kid end;
Thow failet, quod the Miller, thow haft nat wel
thy mynd;
It is a fpere, yf thow canft fe, with a prik tofore,
To puſh a down his enmy, and through the ſhoul-
der bore,
Pefe, quod the Hooft of Southwork; let ſtond the
wyndow glafid;
Goith up and doith your offerynge; ye femith
half amafid;
Sith ye be in company of honeft men and good
Worchith fomwhat aftir them, and let the kynd
of brode
Pas for a tyme; I hold it for the best,
For who doith aftir company may live the bet in
reft.
Then pallid they forth boyftly gogling with their
hedis,
Knelid adown to fore the fhrine, and hertlich their
bedis
They preyd to Seint Thomas in fuche wyfe as they
couth;
And fith the holy relikes ech man with his mowith
Kiffid, as a goodly monk the names told and
taught,
And fith to othir places of holynes they raught,
And wer in their devocioune tyl fervice wer al
doon,
And fith they drowgh to dyǹerward as it drew to
noon,
Then, as manere and cuftom is, fignes there they
bought,
For men of contre fhuld know whome they had
fought.
Eche man fet his filver in fuch thing as they likid,
And in the meen while the Miller had ypikid
His bofom ful of fignys of Caunterbury brochis,
Though the Pardoner and he pryvely in hir pou-
chis,
They put them afterwards, that noon of them it
wift,
Save the Sompner feid famwhat, and feyd to he
lift
Halff part, quod he, prively rowning on their
ere;
Huſht! pees, quod the Miller, feift thou nat the
Frere,
How he lowrith undir his hood with a doggiſh
eye?
Hit fhuld be a privy thing that he coud nat afpy;
Qf every craft he can fomwhat our Lady gave
hym forowe !
Amen, tho quod the Sompner, on eve and cke
on morowe :
So curfid a Tale he told of me the devill of hell
hem fpede,
And me, but yf I pay him wele and quyte wele
his mede.
Yf it hap homward that ech man tell his Tale,
As we did hiderward, though we fhuld fet at fale
All the fhrewdnes that I can, I woll hym nothing
ſpare,
That I n'ol touch his takerd fomwhat of his care. "
They fet their fignys upon their hedes, and fom
oppon their capp,
And fith to the dynerward they gan for to ftapp.
Every man in his degre wiſh and toke his ſete,
As they were wont to doon at foper and at mete,
And wer in filence for a tyme tyl good ale
arife,
gan
And then, as nature axith, as thefe old wife
Knowen wele, when veynys been fomwhat re-
plete,
The fpirits wol ftere, and alfo metis fwete
Caufen oft myrthis for to be ymevid,
And eke it was no tyme tho for to be ygrevid :
Every man in his wyfe made hertly chere,
Telling his felowe of ſportys and of chere,
And of othir mirthis that fellyn by the wey,
As cuftom is of pylgryms, and hath been many a
dey.
The Hooft leid to his crc, of Southworke as ye
knowc,
And thenkid al the company both high and lowe,
So wele kepeing the covenaunt in Southwork that
was made,
That every man fhuld by the wey with a Tale
glade
All the whole company in fhorting cf the wey;
And al is wele performed: but than now thus I
fcy,
That we muft fo homeward eche man tel anothir.
Thus we wer accordiț, and I ſhuld be a rathir
To fet yewe in governaunce by right ful jugė.
ment.
Trewly Hooft, quod the Frer, that was all our
affent,
THE PARDONERE AND
233
TAPSTERE.
With a litil more that I shall fey therto:
Yee graunted of yeur curtefy that we fhuld alſo
All the hole company fope with yewe at nyght?
Thus I trowe that it was; what fey you, Sir
Knyght?
It fhal nat nede, quod the Hooft, to axe no wit-
nes;
Your record is good I nowe; and of yeur gen-
tilnes
Yit 1 prey yew efft ageyn; for by Seynt Thomas
fhryne
And ye woll Fold covenaunt I woll hold myne.
Now trewely Hooft, quod the Knyght, ye have
right wel yfeyd;
And as towching my perfone I hold me payde;
And ſo I trowe that al doith: Sirs, what fey yee?
The Monk and eke the Marchaunte and al feid Ye.
'Then al this aftir-mete, I hold it for the beſt;
To fport and pley us, quod the Hooft, eche man
as hym left,
And go by tyme to foper and to bed alfo,
So mowe we erly ryfen our jorney for to do..
The Knyght aroſe therwithal, and caft on a freſher
gown,
And his fone anothir, to walk in the town,
And fo did all the remnaunt that were of that
aray,
That had their chaungis with them, they made
them freſh and gay,
Sortid them togidir, right as their luftis lay,
As they were more ufid travelling by the way.
The Knyght with his meyne went to fee the walle
And the wards of the town, as to a knyght befall,
Devifing ententiflich the ftrengthis al about,
And apointid to his fone the perell and the dout
For fhot of arblaſt and of bowe, and eke for fhot
of gonne,
Unto the wardis of the town, and how it might
be wone;
And al defence ther ageyn aftir his intent
He declarid compendiouſly, and al that evir he
ment
He fone perfeyvid every poynt, as he was ful abil.
To armes and to travaile and perfone covenabill
He was of all factur aftir fourm of kynd,
And for to deme his governaunce it femed that
his mynd
Was much in his lady that he lovid beſt,
That made hym offt to wake when he fhuld have
his reft.
The Clerk that was of Oxenforth onto the Somp
nore feyd;
Me femeth of grete clerge that thow art amayde,
For thou puttelt on the Frer in maner of repreff,
That he knoweth falfhede, vice, and eke a theff;
And I it hold vertuouſe and right commendabill
To have very knowlech of thinges reprovabill;
For who fo may cfchew it, and let it pas by,
And els he might fall theron unward and fodenly.
And thoughe the Frer told a Tale of a Somp-
nour,
Thow oughtift for to take it for no difhonour,
For of al craftis and of eche degre
They be not al perfite, but fom nycc be.
Lo! what is worthy, feyd the Knight, for to be
a clerk;
To fommon among us them this mocioune was ful
I comend his wittis and eke his clerge, [derke:
For of ether part he faveth honefte.
The Monk toke the Parfone then and the grey
Frer,
And preyd them for curteſy fo: to go in fere:
I have ther acquaintaunce that al this yeres thre
Hath preyd hym by his lettris that I hym wold ſe;
And ye my brothir in habit and in poffeffioune,
And now I am here methinketh it is to doon,
To preve it in dede what chere he wold me make,
And to yew my frende alfo for my fake.
They went forth togidir talking of holy matere,
But woot ye wele in certeyn they had no mind on
watere
To drynk at that tyme, when they wer met in fere,
For of the beft that myght be founde, and there-
with mery chere,
They had, it is no doubte; for ſpycys and eke wine
Went round about the gaftoyn and eke the ruyne.
The Wyfe of Bath was fo wery, ſhe had no wyl to
walk,
She toke the Priores by the honde; Madam, wol
ye ftalk,
Pryvely into the garden to fe the herbes growe,
And aftir with our hoft'is wife in hir parlour
rowe?
I wol gyve yewe the wyne and ye fhul me alfo,
For tyl we go to foper we have naughs ellis to do.
The Priores, as woman taught of gentil blood and
hend,
Affentid to hir counfel, and forth gon they wend,
Paffyng forth foftly into the herbery,
For many a herb grewe for fewe and ſurgery,
And all the aleys feir, and parid, and raylid, and
ymakid,
The favige and the iſope yfrethid and yſtakid,
And othir beddis by and by freſh ydight,
For comers to the hoofte righte a fportful fight.
The Marchaunt and the Mancipill, the Miller and
the Reve,
And the Clerk of Oxenforth, to townward gan
they meve,
And al the othir meyne, and lafft noon at home
Save the Pardoner, that pryvelich when al they
wer goon
Stalkid into the tapftry; for nothing wold he leve
To make his covenaunte in certeyn that fame eve;
He wold be loggit with hir, that was his hole en-
tentioune.
But hap and cke Fortune, and all the conftellaci-
ounc,
Was clere hym ageyns, as ye fhul aftir here;
For hym had better be yloggit al nyght in a myere
Then he was the fame nyght or the fun was up;
For fuch was his fortune he drank without the
cupp;
But thereof wift he no delay; ne No man of us alle
May have that high connyng to know what ſball befall.
He ftappid into the tapftry wondir pryvely,
And fond hir ligging lirylong with half flopy
eye,
234
THE PARDONERE AND TAPSTERE.
Pourid fellich undir hir hood, and fawe all his And al a ftaunce fhe lovid hym wele, fhe teke
comyng,
And lay ay ftill, as naught ſhe knewe, but feynid
hir flepyng.
He put his hond to hir breft; Awake, quod he,
awake.
A, benedicite! Sir, who wiſt yew her? out tho I
myght betale
Prifoner, quod the Tapftere, being al aloon;
And therwith breyd up in a frite, and began to
groon.
Now fith ye be my priſoner yeld yew now, quod he.
I muſt nedis, quod fhe, I may nothyng fle;
And cke I have no ſtrengith, and am but yong of
And alſo It is no maftry to cach a mouſe in a sage [age,
That may no where flert out, but clofid wondir faft;
And eke, Sir, I tell yew though I had grete haſt
Ye fhuld have coughed when ye com. Wher lern
you curtefy?
Now trewlich I must chide, for of right pryvety
Women ben fom tyme of day when they be aloon.
Wher coud I yew prey when ye com efftfone?
Nowe mercy, dere fwetyng! I wol do fo no more;
I thank you an hundrit fithis; and alfo by your
lore
I wol do hereaftir in what plafe that I com :
But lovers, Kitt, ben evil avyſid full oft, and to
lom;
Wherfore I prey you hertlich hold me excuſed,
And I behote yew trewly it fhall no more be uſid.
But now to our purpoſe: how have ye fare
Sith I was wyth you laft? that is my moft care;
For yf yee eylid eny thing othir wife then good,
Trewly it wold chaunge my chere and my blood.
I have farid the wers for yewe, quod Kitt; do ye
no drede
God that is above? and eke ye had no nede
For to congir me, God woot, wyth your nygro-
mancy,
That have no more to vaunte me but oonly my
And yf it were difteynid then wer I ondo: [body,
I wis I trowe, Jenkyn, ye be nat to truft to;
For evir more ye clerkis con fo much in book
Yee wol wynn a woman at firſt look.
Thought the Pardonere, this goth wele, and made
his beter chere,
And axid of hir foftly, Love! who fhall ligg here
This nyght that is to comyng? I prey yewe tell
I wis it is grete nede to tell yewe, quod fhe: [me.
Make it nat overqueynt though you be a clerk;
Ye knowe wele inough iwis by loke, by word, by
work.
Shal I com than, Criftian, and fefe awey the cat?
Shal ye com? per benedicite! what question is
that?
Wherfor I prey you hertly to be my counfail?
Comyth fomwhat late, and for nothing faill;
The dorr fhall ftond that up; put it from you foft,
But be wele avyfid ye wake nat them on lofft,
Care ye nat, quod Jenkin, I can theron at beſt;
Shal no man for my ftepyng be wakid of his reſt.
Anon they dronk the beverage, and were of oone
accord,
As it femed by their chere and alfo ly their word;
|
hym by the fwere,
As though he had lernyd cury favel of ſom old
frere.
The Pardoner plukkid out of his purs I trow the
dowry,
And toke it Kitt in hir hond, and bad her pryvely
To orden a rere fopor for them both to, [alfo,
A cawdell ymade with fwete wyne and with fugir
For trewly I have no talent to ete in your abfence,
So longith my hert toward yew to be in yewr
prefence.
He toke his leve, and went his wey as though no.
thing wer,
And met wyth al the felſhip; but in what plafe
ne wher
He fpake no word therof, but held hym cloſe and
ftyll,
As he that hopid fikirlich to have had al his wyll,
And thought many a mery thought by hymfelf
aloon :
I am a loggit, thought he beſt, how fo evir it
goon;
And thoughe it have coftid me, yit wol I do my
peyn.
For to pike hir purs to nyghte and win my coft
ageyn.
Now leve I the Pardonere tyll that it be eve,
And wol returne me ageyn righte, ther as I did leve.
Whan al wer com togider in their herbergage
The Hooft of Southwork, as ye knowe, that had
no fpice of rage,
But al thing wrought prudenciall, as fobir man
and wife;
Now wol we to the foup, Sir Knyght, feith yeur
avyfe,
Quod the Hooft ful curteyfly, and in the fame wife.
The Knyght anfwer'd him ageyn, Sir as ye devyſe
I muſt obey, ye woot wele; but yf I faill wytt
Then takith thefe prelatis to yewe, and waſhith
and go fit;
For I woll be yewr Marchall and ferve yewe, ech
one,
And then the officers and I to foper fhall we gone.
They wish, and fett right as he bad, eche man
wyth his fere,
And begonne to talk of ſportis and of chere
That they had the aftir-mete whiles they wer out,
For othir occupacioune tyll they wer fervid about
They had nat at that tyme, but every man kitt a
loff;
But the Pardoner kept hym cloſe, and told no-
thing of
The myrth and hope that he had, but kept it for
hymfelf;
And thoughe he did it is no fors, for he had nede
to folve
Long or it were mydnyght, as ye fhul her fone,
For he met with his love in crokeing of the moon.
They wer yfervyd honeftly, and eche man held
hym payde,
For of o manere of ſervice their foper was araide
As fkill wold and refon, fith the left of all
Payid ylike much, for growing of the gall:
THE PARDONERE AND TAPSTER E.
235
But yit as curteſy axith, though it were fom dele
ftreight,
'The ſtatis that were above had of the feyreft en-
dreyte;
Wherfor they did their gentilnes ageyn to all the
rout,
They dronken wyne at their coft onys round
about.
Now pafs I lightly ovir. When they foupid had
Tho that were of governaunce, as wife men and
fad,
Went to their reft, and made no more to doon,
But Miller and the Coke dronken by the moon
Twyes to eche othir in the repenyng; [to fing
And when the Pardoner them efpy'd anoon he gan
Doubill me this bourden, chokelyng in his throte,
For the Tapfter ſhald here of his mery note:
He clepid to hym the Sompnour, that was his own
difcipill,
The Yeman and the Reve, ond the Mancipill,
And ſtoden ſo holowyng; for nothing wold they
Tyl the tyme that it was well within eve. [leve
The Hooft of Southwork herd them wele, and
the Marchaunt both,
As they wer at a countis, and wexen fomewhat
wroth,
But yet they preyd them curteyſly to reſt for to
wend.
And fo they did all the rout; they dronk and made
an end.
And cche man droughe to cufky to flepe and take
his reft
Save the Pardoner, that drew apart, and weytid
by a cheſte
For to hide hymfelf tyl the candill wer out:
And in the meen while, have ye no doute,
The Tapfter and hir paramour, and the hofteler
of the houſe,
Sitt togidir pryvelich, and of the beſt gouſe
That was yfound in town and yfet at fale
They had there of fufficiaunt, and dronk but litill
ale;
And fit and ete the cawdell for the Pardoner that
was made,
|
|
When they had ete and dronk right in the fame
plafe,
Kitt began to rendir out all things as it was;
The wowing of the Pardoners and his coft alfo,
And how he hopid for to lygg al nyght wyth hir
alſo ;
But therof he fhall be fikir as of God'is cope;
And fodenly kiflid her paramour, and feyd, We
fhul fclope
Togidir hul by hul, as we have many a nyght,
And yf he com and make noyfe, I prey yewe
dub hym Knyght.
Yes, Dame, quod hir paramour, be thou not agaſt;
This is his own ftaff thou feyft, therof he fhall
ataft.
Now trewly, quod the hoftler, and he com by my
lot
He ſhall drink for Kittis love wythout cup or pot;
And he be ſo hardy to wake eny giſt [mift;
I make a vowe to the pecock there fhal wake afoul
And aroſe up therewithal and toke his leve anoon:
It was a fhrewid company; they had fervid fo
many oon.
With fuch manere offelefhip ne kepe I never to dele,
Ne no man that lovith his worſhip and his hele.
Quod Kitt to hir paramour, Ye muft wake a
whyle,
For trewlich I am fikir that within this myle
The Pardoner wol be comyng, his hete to afwage,
But loke ye pay hym redelich to kele his corage;
And therfor, love, difchance yewe not tyll this chek
No, for God, Kitt, that wol I no.
[be do.
Then Kitt went to bed, and blewe out all the
light,
And by that tyme it was ner hond quarter nyght.
Whan all was itill, the Pardoner gan to walk,
As glad as eny goldfynch that he herd no man
talk,
And dorwghe to Kittis droward to herken and to
lift,
And went to have fond the dor up; but the haſp
and eke the twift
Held hym out a whils, and the lok alfo;
Yit trowid he no gile, but went ner to,
With fugir and with fwete wyne, right as hym- And ferapid the dorr welplich, and wynyd wyth
felf bade;
So he that payd for all in feer had not a twynt,
For offt is more better ymerkid then ymynt :
And ſo farid he ful right as ye have yherd,
But Who is that a roman coud not make his berd,
And he wer therabout, and fet hir wytt therto?
Ye woot wele I ly nat, and wher 1 do or no
I wol nat here termyn it, left ladies ftond in plafe
Or els gentil women, for lefing of my grace
Of daliaunce and of fportis and of goodly chere;
Therfor anenft their eftatis I wol in no manere
Deme ne determyn, but of lewd kitts,
As tapfters, and othir fuch that hath wyly wytts,
To pike mennys purfis, and eke to bler their eye;
So wele they make feme foth when they falſeſt
by.
Now of Kitt Tapfter, and of hir paramour,
And the hofteler of the houfe, that fit in Kittis
bour,
his mowith
After a doggis lyden, as nere as he couith.
Awey, dog, with evill deth! quod he that was
within,
And made hym all redy the dorr to unpin.
A! thought the Pardoner, tho I trow my berd be
made;
The Tapfter hath a paramour, and hath made
them glade
With the cawdell that I ordeyned for me, as I
guels;
Now the devill hir ſpede, fuch oon as ſhe is,
She feid I had ycongerid hir; our Lady gyve hir
forowe;
Now wold to God fhe wer in ftokis tyl I fhuld hir
borowe,
For fhe is the falfeft that evir yit I knewe;
To pik the mony out of my purs, Lord! ſhe made
hir trewe
236
AND TAPSTERE.
THE PARDONERE
1
And therewyth he caught a cardiakill and a cold
fot,
For who have love longing, and is of corage hote,
He hath ful many a myry thought tofore his
delyte;
And right fo had the Pardoner, and was in evil
plight;
For fayling of his purpofe he was nothing in efe,
Wherfor he fill fodenlich into a wood refe,
Entryng wondir faſt into a frenly
For pur very angir and for jelouſy;
[wood,
For when he herd a man within, he was almoſt
And becauſe the coft was his no mervel tho the
moud
Wer turned into vengaunce, of it myght be:
But this was the myſchief; all ſo ſtrong as he
Was he that was within, and lighter man alfo,
As provid wele the bataile betwene them both to.
The Pardonere fcrapid efft ageyn; for nothyng
wold he blyn,
So feyn he wold have herd more of hym that
was within.
What dog is that? quod the paramour; Kit, woſt
thou ere?
Have God my trowith, quod fhe, it is the Pardonere.
The Pardoner, with myfcheff! God gyve hym evil
preff!
Sir, fhe feid; by my trowith he is the fame theff.
Therof thou lieft, quod the Pardoner, and might
nat long forbere.
A thy fals body! quod he; the devil of hell the
tere!
For by my trowith a falsfher fawe I nevir noon,
And nempnid hir namys many mo then oon,
Though to rech hir wer noon honeſte
Among men of good worſhip and degre.
But, fhortly to conclude; when he had chid inowe
He axid his ſtaff ſpitouflich, with wordis ſharp and
rowe.
Go to bed, quod he within; no more noyſe thow
make;
Thy ftaff fhal be redy to morowe I undertake,
In foth, quod he, I wol nat fro the dorr wend
'I'yl I have my ſtaff. Thow bribour, then have the
todir end,
Quod he that was within ; and leyd it on his back,
Right in the fame plafe as chapmen berith their
And ſo he did to mo, as he coud a rede, [pak;
Grafpying aftir with the ſtaff in lengith and eke in
brede;
And fond hym othir whyle redlich inoughe
With the ſtaffys end high upon the browe.
The hofteler ley oppon his bed and herd of this
affray,
And ftert hym up lightlich, and thought he wold
afay :
He toke a ſtaff in his hond, and highed wondir
blyve
Tyl he wer with the felefhip that fhuld nevir
thryve.
What be yee? quod the hofteler; and knew them
both wele.
Hyuft! pefe, quod the paramour: Jak, thow muft
be fele;
Ther is a theff, I tell the, within this hall dorr.
A theff? quod Jak; this is a nobill chere
That thou hym haft yfound, yf wee hym myght
cach.
Yis, yis, care the nought; with hym we fhul mach
Wele inowe or he be go, yf ſo we had lighte,
For we to be ſtrong inowe with o man for to
fighte.
The devil of hell, quod Jak breke this thev'is
bonis !
The key of the kitchen, as it wer for the nonys,
Is above with our dame: and the hath fuch uſage,
And the be wake of her flepe, fhe fallith in fuch a
rage
That al the weke aftir there may no man hir pleſe,
So fhe fterith aboute this houſe in a wood reſe.
But now I am avifid but how we fhul have lyte;
I have too giftis within that this fame nyght
Supid in the halle, and had a litill feir: [pire,
Go up, quod Jak, and loke, and in the asfhis
And I kepe the dorr; he ſhall not ſtert out.
Nay, for God that wol I nat, left I cach a clout,
Seid the todir to Jak, for thou knowiſt bettir then I
All the eftris of this houfe; go up thyſelf and ſpy.
Nay, for foth, quod Jak, that were grete unrighte
To aventur oppon a man that with hym did not
fighte:
•
Sithens thou haft hym bete and with thy ftaff ypilt,
Me thinkith it wer no refon that I fhuld ber the
gilt;
For by the blyfyng of the cole he myght ſe myne
hede,
And lightly lene me fuch a ſtroke my hond to be
dede.
Then wol we do by common affent fech hymal
about;
Who that metith hym firſt pay him on the fnout;
For methought I herd hym here laft among the
pannys.
Kepe thou the toder fide, but ware the watir
cannys,
And if he be herein ryght ſone we fhull hym fynde,
And we to be ſtrong inowghe o theffe for to bynde.
Aha ha! thought the Pardoner, beth the pannys
aryn?
And drowhe oppon that fide, and thought oppon
a gynne;
So at laſt he fond oon, and fet it on his hede,
For as the cafe was fall ther' to be had grete nede:
But yit he grafpit ferthirmore to have fomwhat
in honde,
And fond a grete ladill right as he was gonde,
And thought for to fterte out betwene them both
to
And waytid wele the paramour that had doon
hym woo,
And fet him with the ladill on the grufcill on the
nofe,
That all the week after he had fuch a pofe,
That both his eyin waterid erlich by the morowe,
But fhe that was the caufe of it had ther'of no
forowe.
But now to the Pardoner. As he wold ftert awey
The hofteler met with hym, but nothyng to his pay:
THE PARDONERE AND TAPSTERE.
237
The Pardoner ran fo fwith the pan fill him fro,
And Jak hofteler aftir hym as blyve as he myght go,
And tapid oppon a brondeal unware, [afware,
That hym had bin beter to have goon more
For the egg of the pann met with his fhynne,
And karff atoo a veyn and the next fyn:
But whils that it was grene he thought litil on,
But when the grenenefs was apaft the greff fat ner
the bone;
Yit Jak leyd to his hond to grope wher it fete,
And when he fond he was yhurt the Pardoner he
gan to threte,
And ſwore by Seynt Amyas that he fhuld abigg
With ftroks hard and fore even oppon the rigg;
Yfhe hym myght fynd he nothyng would hym
fpare:
That herd the Pardoner wele, and held hym bettir
a ſquare,
And thought that he had ſtrokis ryght inough.
Wytnes on his armis, his back, and his browe.
Jak then, quod the paramour, where is the theff
ago?
In'ote, quod tho Jak; right now he lept me fro,
That Crift'is curs go with hym, for I have harm
and ſpite:
Be my trowith and I alſo and he goith nat al quyte:
But and we myght hym fynd we wold aray him fo
That he fhuld have legg ne foot to morrowe on to go.
But how fhull we hym fynd? the moon is adown,
(As grace was for the Pardoner) and cke when
they did roun
He herd them evir wel inowe, and went the more
afyde,
And drew him ever bakward, and let the ftrokis
glide.
Jak, quod the paramour, I hold it for the beſt,
Sith the moon is down, for to go to reſt,
And make the gatis faft; he may not then aftert,
And eke of his own staff he berith a redy mark,
Wherby thou mayeft him knowe among all the
route,
And thou ber a redy ey, and weyt wele aboute
To morowe when they fhul wend; this is the beſt
rede:
Jak, what feyft thou therto? is this wele yſeyd?
Thy wit is clere, quod Jak; thy wit mut nodis
ftond.
He made the gatis faft; ther is no more to doon.
The Pardoner ſtode afide, his chekis ron and bled,
And was ryght evil at efe al nyght in his hede :
He muft of force lige lyke a colyn fwerd, [berd;
Yit it mevid him wondir fore for making of his
He payd at full ther'fore though a womans art
For wyne and eke for cawdill, and had ther'of no
part:
He ther'for preyd Seyn Juliane, as ye mowe on-
derſtonde,
That thedevill her fhulde fpede on watir and on
londe,
So to diffeive a travellyng man of his herbergage,
And coud not els fave curs his angir to afwage;
And was diftract of his wit, and in grete defpayr
For aftir his hete he caught a cold through the
myght'is eyr,
That he was ner afound it, and coud, none othir
help:
But as he fought his loggyng he happid oppon a
whelp
That ley undir a fteyir, a grete Walsſh dog,
That bare about his neck a grete huge clog;
Becauſe that he was fpetoufe, and wold fone bite,
The clog was hongit about his nek, for men fhuld
nat wite
Nothyng dogg'is maifter yf he did eny harm,
So for to excuſe them both it was a wyly charm.
The Pardoner wold have loggit hym ther, and
lay fomwhat nigh,
The warrok was awakid and caught hym by the
thigh,
And bote hym wondir fpetoufly, defending wele
his couch,
That the Pardoner myght nat nehym nether touch.
But held hym a ſquare by that othir fide,
As holfom was at that tyme for tereing of hishyde;
He coud noon othir help, but leyd adown his hede
In the dogg'is littir, and wisfhid aftir brede
Many a time and offt, the dog for to pleſe,
To have yle ymore nere for his own efe:
But wiſh what he wold, his fortune feyd Ney;
So trewly for the Pardoner it was a difmal dey.
The dog ley evir grownyng, redy for to fnache.
Wher'for the Pardoner durft nat with hym mache,
But ley as ftill as eny ftone, remembring hisfoly,
That he wold truſt a Tapſter of a common hoftry:
For commonly for the moft part they ben wyly
echon.
But now to alle the company a morrow whan
they fhuld gon
Was noon of all the felefhip half fo fone ydight
As was the gentil Pardoner; for altyme of the nyght
He was aredy in his aray, and had nothing to doon
Saffe ſhake alite his eris, and trus and be goone.
Yet or he cam in company he wish away the blood,
And bond the forys to his hede with the typet of
his hood,
And made lightfom chere for men fhuld nat ſpy
Nothyng of his turment ne of his luxury; [pry,
And the hofteler of the houſe, for nothing he coud
He coud nat knowe the Pardoner among the com-
pany
A morowe when they fhuld wend, for ought that
they coud pour,
So wyfely went the Pardoner out of the dogg'is
bour,
And blynched from the hofteler, and turned offt
about,
And evirmore beheld hym anydward of the rout,
And was evir fyngyng to make al thyng good;
But yit his notis wer fomwhat low for aking of his
So at that tyme he had no more grame, [hede;
But held hym to his happynes to fcape fhame.
The Knyght and all the felefhip forward gon they
Paffyng forth merely to the toun' ys end; [wend,
And by that tyme they were ther the day began to
And the fon merely upward gan he pike, [rype,
Pleying under the egge of the firmament.
Now, quod the Hooft of Southwork, and to the
feleſhip bent,
!
238
THE PARDONERE AND TAPSTERE.
Who fawe evir fo feyr or fo glad a day,
And how fote this fefon is entring into May?
The thruſtelis and the thrusfhis, in this glad mor-
nyng,
[gale
The ruddok and the goldfynch; but the nyghtin-
His amerous notis lo how he twynith ſmall!
Lo how the trees grenyth that nakid wer, and no-
thing
Bare this month afore but their fommer clothing!
Lo how Nature makith for them everichone!
And as many as ther be he forgettith noone !
Lo how the fefon of the yere and Averell fhouris
Doith the busfhis burgyn out bloffoms and flouris!
Lo the prymerofis how freſh they ben to fene!
And many othir flouris among the grafis grene.
Lo how they ſpryng, and fprede, and of divers hue!
Beholdith, and feith both rede, white and blue!
That lufty bin and comfortabill for mann'ys fight!
For I fey for myſelf it makith my hert to light.
Now fith Almighty Soveryn hath ſent ſo feir adey
Let fe now, as covenant is, in fhorting of the wey,
Who fhall be the firft that fhall unlace his male
In comfort of us al, and gyn fome mery Tale;
For and we fhuld now begyn to draw lot
Peraventure it might fal ther it ought not,
On fom unlufty perfone that wer not wele awakid,
Or femyboufy ovyr eve, and had yfong and crakid
Somwhat ovir much: how fhuld he than do:
For Who fbuld tell a Tale he must have good wyll therto.
|
And eke fom men faftyng beth glewid and ybound
In their tongis; and fom faftyng beth nothyng jo-
cound;
And fom men in the morning ther mouthis beth
adoun;
Tyll that they be charmyd their wordis woll not
foun.
So thy's is my conclufioune and my laſt knot,
It wer grete gentilnes to tell without lot.
By the rood of Bromholm, quod the Marchant tho,
As fer as I have failed, riden and ygo,
Sawe I nevir man yet tofore this ilk day
So wele coud rule a company as our Hoft, in fay
His wordis ben fo comfortabill, and comyth ſo in
fefon,
That my wit is ovircome to make eny refon
Contrary to his counfaill at myn ymagynacioune,
Wher'for I woll tell a Tale to your confolacioune,
In enfampill to yowe that when that I have do
Anothir be right redy then for to tell, ryght fo
To fulfyll our Hooft'is wyll and his ordinaunce.
There fhall no fawte be found in me: gode wyl
fhal be my chaunce:
With this I be excufid of my rudines,
Altho' I cannot peynt my Tale, but tell it as it is,
Lepyng ovir no fentence, as ferforth as I may,
But tell yewe the yolke and put the white away.
I
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &%.
239
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE;
OR, THE HISTORY OF BERYN.
WHILOM yeris paffed in the old dawis
[lawis,
When rightfullich by refon governyd wer the
And pryncipally in the cete of Rome, that was fo
rich,
And worthieſt in his dayes, and noon to him ilich|
Of worſhip ne of wele, ne of governaunce,
For alle londis chriftened ther of had dotaunce,
And all othir natiouns, of what feith they were,
Whils the Emperour was hole, and in his paleys
I mainteynid in honour; and in Pop'is fe [there
Rome was then obeied of all Criftiante.
But it farith ther'by as it doith by othir thingis;
For though nethir cete, regioune, ne kyngis,
Beth nat nowe fo worthy as wer by olde tyme,
As we fynd in romaunces, in geftis, and in ryme,
For all things doith waft, and eke mann’ys lyff
Y's more ſhorter then it was ; and our wittis fyve
Mowe nat comprehende now in our dieties
As fom tyme myght thefe old wife poetes.
But fith that terrene thinges ben nat perdurabill,
No mervaile is though Rome be fomwhat variabill
Fro honour and fro wele fith his frendis paffid;
As many anothir town is payrid and ylaffid
Within thefe few yeris, as we mowe fe at eye;
Lo! Sirs, here faft by Wynchelfe and Ry.
But yit the name is evir oon of Rome as it was
groundit
After Remus & Romulus, that firſt that cete foundit,
That brethren weren both to, as old bokis writen;
But of ther lef and governaunce I wol not now
enditen,
But of othir mater that fallith to my mynd;
Wher'for, gentill Sirs, ye that beth behind
Drawith fomwhat nere thikker to a rout,
That my wordis may foune to eche man about.
Aftir thefe two brethren Romulus and Remus
Julius Cæfar was Emperour, that rightful was of
Domus.
This cete he governed nobilich wele,
And conquered many a regioune, acronicull doth
us telle:
3
For, fhortly to conclude, al tho wer adverfaryes
To Rome in his dayis he made them tributaries;
So had he in fubjectioune both frend and foon,
Of which I tell yew trewely Englond was oon.
Yit aftir Julius Cæfar, and fith that Criſt was bore,
Rome was governed as wele as it was before,
And namelich in that tyne and in the fame yeris
When it was governed by the Dofeperis;
As femeth wele by refon, who fo can entend,
That O mann'ys wyt ne wyll may not comprehend
The boucheff and the myfcheff, as may many bedis;
Ther'for ther operaciouns, ther domes, and ther
dedes,
Were fo egallich ydoon; for in all Criſten londis
Was noon that they ſparid for to mend wrongis.
Then Conftantyne the Third, aftir thefe Dofiperis,
Was Emperour of Rome, and regnyd many yeris.
So, fhortly to pas ovir, after Conftantyn's dayis
Phus Auguftinus, as fongen is in layes,
That Conftantyn'ys fon, and of plener age,
Was Emperour ychofe, as fill by heritage,
In whofe tyme fikerlich the feven Sages were
In Rome ydwelling decently; and yf yee luft to lere
How they were yclepid, or I ferther goon,
[bere.
I woll tell you the names of them everichone,
And declare yeu the caufe why they ther namys
The first was ycleped Sother Legifeer,
This is thus much for to fey, as man bering the lawe:
And fo he did trewly; for lever he had be fclawe
Then do or fey eny thing that fowned out of refon,
So cleen was his confcierse yfet in trowith and
refon.
Marcus Stoycus the fecond, fo pepill hym highte,
'That is to mene in our conftert, a koper of the right:
And fo he did full trewe; for the record and the
plees
[fees
He wrote them evir trewly, and took noon othir
But fuch as was ordynid to take by the yere:
Now, Lord God! in Criftendom 1 wold it were fo
clere.
£46
THE MERCHANT'S
SECOND TALE, St,
'The third Craffus Afulus among men clepid was,
An houfe of reft, and eſe, and counfail, in every cafe :
For to onderftond that was his name full right,
For evirmore the counfails he helpid wyth al his
Antonius Judeus the ferth was yclepid, [myght.
That was as much to meen, as wele me myght have
As any pofed of all the long yere, [clepid
That myght have made hym fory or chongit onys
chere,
But evirmore rejoycing, what that evir betid,
For his hert was evir mery, right as the fomer
Summus Philopater was the fifft'is name, [bridd.
That thoughe men wold flee hym, or do hym al
the fhame,
Angir, or diſeſfe, as evil as men couthe,
Yet wold he love them nevir the wers in hert ne
in mowith.
This was their moſt befynes, and all othir delites,
And eke this world'is rychis, they fet at litil price.
So at laft, as God wold, it fill oppon a dey,
As this lady fro chirchward went in the wey,
A child gan ftere in her womb, as Godd'is wyl was,
Wher' of the gan to mervill, and made fhortir pas,
Wyth colour pale and eke wanne,' and full in he
vynes,
For fhe had nevir tofore that day fuch manere
fekenes.
The wymmen that with hir were gon to behold
The lady and her chere, but nothing they told,
But feir and foft wyth efe homward they her
led:
For her foden fekenes ful fore they were adred,
For fhe was inlich gentil, kynd and amyabill,
And eke trewe of hert, and nothyng variabill.
His will was cleen undir his foot, and nothing She lovid God above all thing, and dred fyn and
hym above,
Ther'fore he was clepid Fathir of perfite love.
The fixth and the fevinth of thefe Sevin Sages
Was Stypio and Sithero, as thes word Aftrolages
Was firname to them both aftir their fciences;
For of aftronomy fikerlich the cours and all the
fences
Bothe they knowhit wele inoughe, and wer right
fotil of art.
But now to othir purpoſe, for her I will depart
As lightly as I can, and draw to my matere.
In that fame tyme that theſe Sages were
Dwellyng thus in Room, a litill without the walles,
In the fubarbis of the town, of chambris and of
hallis,
And all other howſeing that to a lord belongit,
Was noon wythyn the cete, ne noon fo wele be-
hongit
With docers of highe pryſe, ne wallid fo aboute,
As was a Senatours hous wythyn and eke withoute.
Favinus was his name, a worthe man and rich;
And, for to fey ſhortlych, in Room was noon hym
lyche.
His portis and his eftris were full evenaunte
Of trefour and of lordfhyp; alfo the moſt vailant
He was, and eke ycom of high lynage :
And at laſt he toke a wyff like to his peerage;
For Noriture and connyng, berete and parentyne,
Wer the countid more worth than gold or fylvir fyne.
But now it is al othir in many mann'ys thought,
For Muk ys now ymarried, and vertu ſet at nought,
Fawnus and his worthy wyff wer to gidir aloon
Fyveteene wyntir fulliche, and iffu had they noon,
Wher'for ther joyis wer not half parfite,
For uttirlich to have a child was al ther delite,
That myght enjoy ther heritage and weld their
honour,
And ake when they were febill to their trew ſo-
coure.
Their faftyng and their prayir, and all that evir
they wrought,
As pilgrimage and almfded, ever they befought
That God would of his goodnes fom fruyte be-
twene them fend:
Fro gynnyng of their fpoufaill, the myddil, and
the end,
fhame,
And Agea fikerly was her rightfull name.
So aftir, in breff tyme, when it was purfeyved
That he had done a womans dede, and had a
child confeyvyd,
The joy that ſhe made ther may no tung tell;
And al fo much, or more, yf 1 ne ly fhell,
Favinus made in his behalf for this glad tyding,
That I trowe I leve the emperour ne the kyng
Made no bettir cher to wyff, ne no more myrth,
Then Fawnus to Agea. And when the tyme of
birth
Nyghid ner and ner, aftir cours of kynd,
Wetith wele in certen that all the wyt and mynd
Of Fawnus was continuell of feir dely veraunce
Betwene Agea and his child, and made grete or-
denaunce
Ageyn the tyme it fhuld be bore, as it was for
to doun.
So as God wold whan tyme cam Agea had a
fon ;
But joy that Fawnus made was dobil tho to fore
When that he knew in certen ſhe had a ſon ybore,
And fent anoon for nurfis four, and no lefs,
To reule this child. Afterward as yeris did pas,
The child was kept fo tenderly that it throff wel
the bet,
For what the noriſhes axit anoon it was yfett.
In his chambir it norifhed was; to town it mut
nat go:
Fawnus lovid it fo cherely hit myght nat part
hym fro.
It was fo feyr a creature as myght be on lyve
Of lymys and of fetours, and growe wondir
blyve.
This child that I of tell, Berinus was his name,
Was ovir much cherished, which turned hym into
grame,
fpafe;
As yee fhull here aftir, when time comyth and
[plafe:
For Aftir favete the foure comyth full oft in many a
For as fone as he coud go and alfo fpeke
All that he fet his ey on, or aftir lift to beke,
Anoon he fhuld it have, for no man hym wer-
[nyd
nyd.
But it had be wel bettir he had be wele yler-
THE MERCHANT'S
247
SECOND TALE,
6.
Noriture and gentilnes, and had yhad fome hey,
For it fill ſo aftir wyth what child he did pley
Yf the pley ne likid hym he wold breke his
hede,
Or wyth a knyff hym hurt ryght nygh hond to be
dede:
For ther nas knyght ne fquyer in his fadirs houſe,
That thought his owne perfone mofte corajoufe,
That did or feyd eny thing Bérinus to difplefe
That he n'old fpetoufly anoon oppon him refe;
Wher'of his fadir had joy and his modir alfo :
Yet it femith to many a man it was nat wifely do.
When Beryn paffed was ſeven and
yere, grew in
more age,
He wrought ful many an evil chek; for fuch was
his corage
That there he wift or might do eny evill dede
He wold nevir fefe for ought that men him feid,
Whe'fore many a pore man ful oft was agrevid;
But Fawnus and Agea ful light theron belevid :
And thoughe men wold pleyne ful fhort it fhuld
availe,
For Fawnus was fo myghty, and cheff of all
counfaill
With Augustyn the Emperour, that all men hym
drad,
And lete pas ovir mifchefe and harmys that they
had.
Berinus ferthermore lovid well the dife,
And for to pley at hazard, and held ther' of grete
pryfe,
And all othir gamys that lofery was in,
And evirmore he loft, and nevir myght wyn.
Berynus at hazard many a nyght he wakid,
And oft tyme it fill fo that he cam hom al nakid :
And that was all his joy, for right wele he knew
That Agea his modir wold cloth hym newe.
Thus Berynus lyvid, as I have told to fore,
Tyll he was of the age of eightene yere or more.
But othir whyls amongis for pleyntis that were
grete
Fawnus made amendis, and put them in quiete :
So was the fadir caufe the fone was fo wyld;
And ſo have many mo fuch of his own child
Be cauſe of his undoyng, al we mowe fe al day;
For Thing ytake is hard to put awey,
As hors that evir trottid, trewlich I yew telle,
It were bard to make bym aftir to ambill welle :
Ryght fo by Beryn; when he had his luft and wyll
when he was lite
It fhuld be hevy afterward to reve his old delite,
Save the whele of Fortune, that no man may
withftonde,
For every man on lyve ther'on he is gond;
O ſpoke ſhe turnyd bakward, righte at high noone,
All ageyn Berinus, as ye fhull here fone.
Agea his modir fell in grete fikenes,
And fent aftir huſbond wyth wordis hire to lis,
And for the wold tell hym hir hole hert'is wyll
Er fhe out of the world partid, as it was right and
fkill.
When Fawnus was ycome, and ſaw fo rodyleſe
Hys wyff that was fo derc, that for love he chefe,
VOL. I.
No mervell though his hert wer in grete morn
ing,
For he purfeyvyd fullich fhe drewe to hir endyng:
Yit made he othir chere then in his hert was
To put awey diſcomfort, diffimilying wyth his
fafe
The hevynes of his hert: wyth chere he did it
cloſe,
For fuch a manner craft ther is wyth them can
glofe;
Save that tournyth all to cautele: but Fawnus
did nat fo,
For wetith wele in certeyn his hert was full of wo
For his wyff Agea; and yit for craft he couth
The teris fro his eyin ran doun by his mowith:
When he faw the pangis of deth comyng fo aft
Oppon his wyff Agea almoft his hert to braft.
Agea lyfft up hir eyen, and beheld the chere
Of hir huſbond Fawnus, that was fo trew a fere,
And feyd, Sir, why do ye thus? this is an elying
fare
İn comfort of us both, yf yee might ſpare
And put awey thys hevynes whyle that yee and I
Myght fpeke of othir thyngis, for Deth me
nyghith nygh,
For to body ne to foule this vailyth nat a karfe.
Now tellyth on, quod Fawnus, and I wol lete it
For the time of talkying as wele as I may [pas
But out of my remembraunce onto my endyng
day
Yeur deth woll nevir, I woot it wele, but evir be
in my mynd.
Then, good Sir, quod Agea, beth to my foule
kynd
When my body is out of fight, for therto have f
nede,
For truer make then yee be in word ne in dede
Had nevir woman, ne more kyndnes
Hath fhewed unto his make, I know right wele
iwis :
Now wold ye fo her after in hert be as trewe,
To lyve wythout make, and on yeur fone rewe,
That litill hath ylernid fithens he was bore:
Let hym have no ftepmodir, for children have
tofore
Comelich they lovith nat: wherfore wyth hert I
prey
Have chere onto yeur fone aftir my endyng day;
For fo God me help and I lafft yew behynd
Shuld nevir man on lyve bryng it in my mynd
To be no more yweddit, but lyve foule aloon.
Now yee know all my wyll, good Sir, think
ther'on.
Certis, quod Fawnus, whils I have wyttis fyve
I think nevir aftir yew to have another wyff.
The preeft was com therwythall for to do hir
rightis;
Fawrus toke his leve, and all the othir knyghtis,
Hir kyndrid and frendis kiffed hir echone:
It is no nede to axe wher ther was dole or noon.
Agea caft her ey up, and lokid all aboute,
And wold have kiflid Beryn, but then was he
wyckoute,
242
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &t.
·
Pleying to the hazard, as he was wont to doon, | It myght nat have be mendit; fuch was his gent
For as fone as he had ete he wold ren out anoon;
And when the faw he was not ther that she thought
moft on
Hire fekenes and hire mournyng berft her hert
'anoon.
A damfell tofore that was ron into the toune
For to feche Beryn, that pleyed for his gowne,
And had almoſt loſt it, right as the damfell cam,
And fwore and ftarid as he was wood, as longit
to the game.
The damfell feyd to Beryn, Sir, ye must com
home,
For but ye hygh blyve that yee wer ycome
Yeur mothir woll be dede; fhe is yit on lyve :
Yf ye wol fpeke wyth her yee must hygh blyve.
Who bad fo, lewd Kitt? Your fadir, Sir, quod
fhe.
+
Go home, lewd vifenag, that cvil mut thow the!
Quod Beryne to the damfell, and gan her fray and
feer,
And bad the devill of hell hir fhould to tere.
Haft thow ought els to do but let me of my
game?
Now by God in hevin, by Peter, and by Jame,
Quoth Beryn in grete angir, and fwore be book
and bell,
Reherfying many namys mo than me lyft to tell,
N'er thow my fadirs meffenger wer thou ſhuldiſt
nevir ete brede :
I had levir my modir and alfo thou wer dede
Then I fhuld lefe the game that I am nowgh in;
And fmote the damfell undir the ere, the weet
gon upward fpyn :
The death of Agea he fet at litill pryfe;
So in that wrath frolick Beryn threw the dyfe,
And loft wyth that fame caft al was leyde adown,
And fert up in a wood rage, and ballid on his
crown,
And fo he did the remnaunt, as many as wold
abyde;
But for drede of Fawnus his felawis gan to hyde,
And nevir had wyll, ne lift, wyth Beryn for to
fyght,
But evir redy to pley and wyn what they
myght.
The deth of Agca fprang about the towne,
And every man that herd the bell for her fowne
Bemony'd her full fore; faff Beryn toke none
hede,
But fought another felefhip, and quyklich to them
yede,
To fuch manner company as fhuld nevir thryve,
For fuch he lovid bettir then his modir's lyve;
And evirmore it fuld be nyght or he wold home
drawe,
For of his fadir in certeyn he had no manner awe;
For evir in his yowith he had al his wyll,
And was ypaſſed chaitiling but men wold hym
kyll.
Fawnus for Agea, as it was well fitting,
Made grete ordenaunce for hir burying,
Of prelatis and of preettis, and of all othir thyng,
As though the had be a wyff of a worthy king
tilnes,
For at hir enteryng was many a worthy meffe.
For four weeks full, or he did her intere,
She ley in lede wythyn his houſe; but Beryn cam
not there,
Namelich into the place where his modir ley,
Ne onys wold he a Pater nofter for hir foule fey:
His thought was all in unthryft, lechery, and
dyfe,
And drawyng all to foly, for rowith is rechles
But ther it is refreyned and hath fom manere eye:
And ther fore methinkith that I may wele fey
A man ypaffid yowith, and is wythout lore,
May be wele ylikened to a tre wythout more,
That may nat bowe ne bere fruyte, but root and
ever waft:
Ryght fo by yowith farith that no man lift to
chaft.
This mowe we know vercly by experience,
That Terd makith vertu and benevolence
In childbode for to growe, as provith ymagynacioune:
A plant whils it is grene, or it have domina-
cioune,
A man may wyth his fyngers ply it wher hym
lyft,
And make ther'of a fhakill, a with, or a twiſt;
But let the plant ftond, and yeris ovirgrowe,
Men fhull not wyth both his hondis unnethis make
it bowe:
No more myght Fawnus make his fone Beryn,
When he grew in age, to his lore enclyne;
For every day when Beryn rofe unwafh he wold
dyne,
And draw hym to his felefhip as even as a lyne,
And then com home and ete, and foop, and ſelepe
at nyght:
This was al his befynes but yf that he did fight;
Wher'for his fadir's hert Fawnus gan for to blede,
That of his modir that ley at home he toke no
more hede:
And fo did all the pepill that dwellid in the town
Of Beryn's wildnes gon fpeke and eke roun.
Fawnus oppon a dey, when Beryn cam at eve,
Was fet oppon a purpoſe to make his fone leve
All his fhrewd taichis wyth goodnes if he myght,
And taught hym feir and foft, but Beryn toke it
light,
And countid at litill pryfe al his fadir's tale.
Fawnus faw it wold nat; with colour wan and pale
He partid from his fone, and wyth a forowfull
hert.
I ne can write halfyndele how fore he hid fmert
The difobeying of his fone and his wyf'is deth,
That, as the book tellith, he wifhed that his breth
Had ybeen above the ferkill celeftyne,
So fervent was his forowe, his angir, and his pyne.
So, fhortly to conclude, Agea was interid,
And Fawnus livid wyfies three yere were ywerid,
Wher'of ther was grete fpeche for his high honour;
Tyll at last word cam onto the Emperour
That Fawnus was without wyfe, and feld was jo-
counde,
But mournyng for Agea that he was to ybound,
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &.
243
And lyvid as an hermyte, foule and deftitute,
Wythout confolacioune, penfyff oft and mute :
Wher'for Auguftinus, of Rome the Emperour,
Was inwardlich fory, and in grete dolour.
Wyth that the feven Sagis and Senatouris all
Were affemblid, to difcryve what fhuld ther'of
fall;
The wych feyd shortly, For a moleftatioune
She thought and wrought day by day, as meny
wemen doon,
Tyll they have of their defire the full conclu-
fioune :
For the more that Fawnus of Rame did made
The more dangerous was Rame and of chere
fade,
And kept wele hir purpofe undir covirture:
She was the las to blame; it grew of nature.
But though that Rame wrought fo, God forbede
Ther was noon othir remedy but a confolacioune;
For Whefs wer in eny thing diſplefid or agrevid
Mufl by a like thing egall be remevid.
And when the Emperour knew all their determi-Wer
nacioune,
Quicklich in his mynd he had imaginacioune
That Fawnus for Agea was in high diſtres,
And must ycurid be wyth paffyng gent.lnes
Of fom lufty lady, that of pulchritude
Were excellent al othir: fo, fhortly to con-
clude,
The Emperour had a love tofore he had a wyf
That he lovid as hertlich as his own lyf,
As was as feir a creature as fone myght befhyne;
So excellent of bewte that the myght be fhryne
To all othir wymmen that wer tho lyvand:
But for the Emperour had a wyf ye fhul wele on-
derſtond
He cam nat in hir company to have his delite;
For Cristendome and confcience was tho more
perfite
Then it is now adayis, yf I durft tell:
that alle
of that condicioune. Yet touch no man the
gall,
It is my plein counfell, but doith as othir doith:
Take your part as it comith of roughe and eke of
fmoothe.
Yit noritur, wit and gentilnes, refon and perfite
mynde,
Doth all thefe worthy women to worch agenys
kynde,
That thoughe they be agrevid they fuffir and
endure,
And paffith ovir for the beft, and folowith nothing
nature.
But now to Rame's purpofe, and what was hir
defire,
Shortly to conclude, to make debate and ire
Betwene the fadir and the fone, as it was likely
tho;
What for his condicioune, and what for love alfo
But I wol leve at this tyme. Than Fawnus al That Fawnus owt to his wyff, the rathir he muft
fo well
Was aftir fent in heft, of ſeknes to be curyd;
So what for drede and ellis they wer both en-
furyd
In prefence of the Emperour, fo Fawnus myght
nat flee;
It was the Emperours wyll, it myght noon
othìr be.
So wythin a tyme Agca was forgete,
For Fawnus thought litill on that he hir behight:
For as the ſeven Sagis had afore declarid
It cam all to purpos; For Fawnus litil carid
For eny thing at all fave his wyff to plefe,
That Rame was yclepid: for rett nethir efe
Fawnus nevir had but of her prefence:
So was his hert on her yfet that he coud no
defence,
Savc evirmore be wyth hir, and ftare on hir
hir, and ftare on hir
vifage,
That the most part of Room held it for dotage,
And had much marvell of his variaunce:
But Ihat is that Fortune cannat put in chance?
For ther n'as man on lyve on woman more be-
dotid
Then Fawnus was in Rame, ne half fo much
yfotid.
Wyth that Rame had knowlech that Fawnus was
ylmyt
Wyth the dart of Love: ye mowe ryght wele
it wyt
That all that evir fhe coud caft or ythynck
Was all ageyn Berynus, for many a fotill wrench
hir leve,
And grant for to mend, yf ought hir did greve.
Berinus evir wrought right as he did before,
And Rame made hym chere of love, ther myght
no woman more,
And gaff hym gold and clothing evir as he did
lefe,
Of the best that he coud ought wher in towi
chefe,
And fpeke full feir wyth hym, to make al thyng
dede;
Yit wold fhe have yete his hert wythout falt or
brede:
She hid fo hir felony, and fpak fo in covert,
That Beryn myght nat fpy it but lite of Ram'ys
hert.
So, fhortly to pas ovir, it fill oppon a nyghte,
When Fawnus and his freſh wyf wer to bed
ydight,
He toke hir in his armys and made hir hertly
chere,
Ther myght no man betir make to his fere,
And feyd, Myn ertly joy, myn hertis full piefaunce,
My wele, my woo, my paradife, my lyv'is fufte-
naunce!
Why ne be ye mery, why be ye fo dull,
Sith ye know I am yeur own right as yeur hert
woll?
Now tell on love, myn own hert! yf ye eylith
ought,
For and it be in my power anoon it fhall Le
wrought.
Qij
244
ca
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE,
Rame wyth that gan fighe, and wyth a wepeing
chere
Undid the bagg of trechery, and feide in this
manere:
No mervell though myn hert be fore and full of
dele,
For when I to yew weddit was wrong went my
whele.
But who may be ageyns hap and aventure?
Therfor as wele as I may myne I mut endure.
Wyth many sharp wordis fhe fet his hert on feir
To purchaſe with hir practik that ſhe did defire:
But hoolich all hir wordis I cannot wele reherſe,
Ne write ne endite how he did perce
Through Fawny's hert and his fcull alfo ;
For more petoufe compleynt of forowe and of woo,
Made nevir woman, ne more petouſly,
Then Rame made to Fawnys: fhe fmote full
bitterly
Into the veyn, and through his hert blood;
She bloderit ſo and wept, and was fo high on
mode,
That unneth the myght fpeke but othir while
among
Wordis of diſcomfort, and hir hondis wrong;
For alas and woo the tyme that fhe weddit was!
Was evir more the frefreit when fhe myght have
fpafe.
I am yweddit; ye, God woot beft in what maner
and how !
For yf it wer ſo fall I had a child by you,
Lord! how fhuld he lyve, how fhuld he com
awey?
Sith Beryn is yeur firſt fone, and heir aftir yeur
day?
But yf that he had grace to fcoole for to goo,
To have fom maner conning that he myght
trust to,
For as it now ftondeth it were the beft rede,
For, fo God me help, I had levir he wer dede
Than wer of fuch condicioune or of fuch lore
As Beryn yeur fone is; it wer bett he wer unbore,
For he doith nat ellis fave at hazard pley,
And comyth home al nakid ech othir dey;
For within this month that I have wyth yeu be
Fiftene this, for verry grete pite
I have yclothid hym al new when he was to tore,
For evirmore he feyde the old were ylore.
Now and he wer my fone I had levir he were yfod,
For and he pley fo long half our lyvelode
Wold fcarfly fuffife hymfelf oon,
And n'ere yee wold be grevid, I fwere be Seynt
John
He fhuld aftir this dey be clothid no more for me,
But he wold kepe tliem bettir and draw fro
nycete.
Now gentill wyff, grancy of yeur wife tale,
I thynk wel the more that I fey no fale;
For towchyng my grevaunce, that Beryn goith
al nakid,
Treulich that grevaunce is fomwhat afclakid :
Let hym aloon, I prey yew, and I woll con yew
thank,
For in fuch lofery he hath loft many a frank.
|
The devil hym ſpede that rech yf he be to tore,
And he ufe it hereaftir as he hath doon to fore.
Beryn aroſe a morowe, and cried woǹdir faſt,
And axid aftir clothis, but it was all in waft;
Ther was no man tendant for hym in all the
houfe;
The whele was ychaungit into anothir cours.
Fawnus herd his fone wele how he began to cry,
And rofe up anoon and to hym did high,
And had forgete nothyng that Rame had yſeyde,
For he boillid fo his hert he was nat well apayde.
He went into the chambir ther his fone ley,
And fet hym down in a chair, and thus he gan to
fey:
My gentil fone Beryn, now feir I wol ye teche;
Rew oppon thy felf, and be thyne own leche.
Manhode is ycom now, myne own dere fone,
It is tyme thow be aweynyd of thýn old wone:
And thow art 20 wynters, and naught haft of
doctryne;
Yit woldift thow draw to perfite the worship wold
be thyne,
To noritur and goodſhip, and al honeft thing,
Ther myght com to myn hert no more glad ty-
ding.
Leve now al thy foly and thy rebawdry,
As tablis and mervellis, and the hazardry,
And draw the to the company of honeft men and
good,
Els leve thow me as wele as Crifte died on the
rode;
And for al menkynd his ghoft pas lete,
Thow fhalt for me heraftir ftond on thyn own fete,
For I woll no longir fuffir this aray
To clothe the al new eche othir dey.
Yf thow wolt draw the to wit, and rebawdry
withdraw,
Of fuch good as God have fent yn part have ſhaft
thow:
And if thow wolt nat, my fone, do as I the tell,
Of me fhalt thow naught have, truft me right well.
Wenyft thow wyth thy dife-pleying hold myn ho-
noure
Aftir my deth dey? Then Beryn gan to loure,
And feide, Is this a fermon or a prechèment?
Ye were nat wont herto; how is this ywent?
Sendith for fome clothing that I wer ago;
My felawis lokith aftir me, I woot well they do fo
I woll nat leve my felefhip ne my rekelagis,
Ne my dife-pleying, for all yeur heretages:
Doith yeur beft wyth them by yeur lyf day,
For when they fall to me I wol do as I may.
Benedicite! fadir, who hath enformyd you,
And fet you into ire, to make me chere rowe?
But I know wele inough whens this counfaill cam
Trewlich of yeur own wyfe, that evil dame :
Com oppon hir body that fals putaigne,
For trewlich, fadir, yee dote on hir, and fo all men
feyne.
Alas that evir a man fould, that is of high counfaile,
Set all his rifdom on his rvyv's taile!
Yee lovith hir fo much fhe hath benome yeur
wyt,
And I may curs the tyme that evir ye wer yknyt
THE MERCHANT'S
245
SECOND TALE, &c.
For now I am in certen I have a ftepmodir:
They been fhrewis, fom ther been, but few, othir.
Vel Fikil Flaptail, fuch oon as fhe ys,
For all my pleying at dife yit do yee more amys:
Yee have yloft yeur name, yeur worſhip, and
yeur feith,
So dote ye on hir, and levith all fhe fayith.
Fawnus wyth the fame word gaff the chayir a but,
And lepe out of the chambir, as who feyd Cut,
And ſwore in verrey woodnes be God omnipo-
tent
That Beryn of his wordis fhuld fore repent.
Beryn fet nought ther'of, with a proude hert
Anſwerd his fadir, and axid a new fhert.
He gropid al about to have found oon,
As he was wont to fore, but ther was noon.
Then toke he fuch wilokis as he fond ther,
And beheld hymfelf what man he wer;
For when he was arayde then gan he firfte be
wrothe,
For his womb lokid out and his rigg both.
He ſtert aftir his fadir, and he began to cry,
For feth myn array, for the villany
Ys as wele yeurs as it is myne.
Fawnus let him clatir and cry wel and fyne,
And pallid forth ftill and fpak nat a word.
Then Beryn gan to think it was nat al bord
That his fadir feyde when he wyth hymn was,
And gan to think all about, and therwyth feid
Alafs !
Now know I wele forfoth that my modir is dede;
For tho gan he to glow firft a fory mann'yis hede.
Now kepe thy cut, Beryn, for thou fhalt have a
Somwhat of the world to lern betir wit;
[fit
For and thow wift fikerly what ys for to com
Thow woldift wish aftir thy deth full oft and
ylone;
[fwerd
For Ther n'ys betying half fo fore wyth faff nethir
As man to be bete with his own yerd.
The pyry is yblowe, hop, Beryn, hop,
That ripe wol heraftir and on thyn hede drop:
Thou tokift noon hede whils it fhoon hoot,
Ther for wynter the nyghith afay by thy cote.
Beryn for fhame to town durft he nat go,
He toke his wey to churchward; his frend was
made his foo,
For angir, forowe, and fhame, and hevynes, that
he had,
Unneth he might fpeke, but ftode half as mad.
O alas! quod Beryn, what wyt had I
That coud nat tofore this dey know fikerly
That my modir dede was? but now I know to fore,
And drede more that eche day hereaftir more and
more
I fhall know and fele that my modir is dede.
Alas! I fmote the meffangere, and toke of hir noon
hede:
Alas! I am right pore; alas! that I am nakid :
Alas! I fclept to faſt, tyl forowe now hath me
wakid :
Alas! I hunger fore; alas! for dole and peyn,
For eche man me feith hath me in difdeyn.
This was all his mirth to the churchward
That of his modir Agea he toke fo litill reward.
When Beryn was within the chirch then gan he
wers fray:
As fone as he faw the tomb where his modir lay
His colour gan to chaunge into a dedely hew:
Alas, gentill modir! fo kynd you wer and trew,
It is no mervell for thy deth though I fore fmert.
But therwythal the forowe fo fervent fmote his hert
That fodenly he fil down ftan dede in fwowe:
That he had part of forowe methynkith that
myght I avowe.
Beryn lay fo long or he myght awake,
For al hys fyve wittis had clene hym forfake,
Wel myght he by hymſelf, when refon ycom were,
Undirftond that Fortune had a sharp fpere,
And eke grete power among high and lowe,
Som to avaunce and fom to ovirthrowe.
So at laſt whan Beryn a litill wakid were
He trampelid faft with his fete, and al to tere his
And his vifage both, right as a wodeman, [ere
With many a bitir tere that from his eyen ran,
And fighid many a fore figh, and had much hevy
nes,
And evirmore he curfid his grete unkyndnes
To foreyit his modir whils fhe was alyve,
And lenyd to hir tombe opon his tore fclyve,
And wisfhid a thowfand fithis he had ybe hir by,
And beheld hir tombe with a petouſe eye.
Now, glorious God! quod Beryn, that al thing
madift of nought,
Heven and erth, man and befte, fith I am myf
wrought
Of
yewe I axe mercy, focour, and help, and grace,
For my myfdede and foly, unthryffe and trefpafe:
Set my forowe and peyn fomwhat in meſure
Fro difpeir and myſcheff as I may endure.
Lord of all lordis! though Fortune be my foo
Yit is thy myght above to turn hym to and fro.
Firſt my modirs lyfe Fortune hath me berevid,
And fith my fadirs love, and nakid alſo me levid.
What may he do more? Vis, take awey my lyfe;
But for that wer myn efe, and end of al ftryfe,
Ther❜for he doith me lyve for my wers I fey,
That I fhuld evirmore lyve and nevir for to dey.
Now leve I Beryn wyth hys modir tyl I com aye,
And wol return me to Rame, that of hir fotilte
Bethoughte hir al aboute, when Beryn was agoon
That it fhuld be wittid hir, wher'for fhe anoon
In this wife feyd to Fawnus: Sir, what have ye do,
Althoughe I fpeke a mery word, to ſuffir your fone
Nakid into the town? it was nat my counfaill. [go
What wol be feyd ther'of? fikir without faile,
For I am his ftepmodir, that I am caufe of alle
The violence, the wrath, the angir, and the gall,
That is betwene yew both, it wol be wit me;
Wher'for I prey you hertly doith hym com hom
aye.
Nay, by trowith, quod Fawnus, for me comyth he
Sithe he of my wordis fo litil prife fet [nat yit;
As litil fhall I charge his eſtate alſo :
Sorowe have that rechith though he nakid go,
For every man knowith that he is nat wife;
Wher'for may be fuppofid his pleying at dife
Is cauſe of his aray, and nothing yee, my wyff,
Yes, iwis, quod Rame, the tale woll he ryff
Q iij
246
SECOND TALE, &
THE MERCHANT'S
Of me and of noon othir, I know right wel afyne;
Wher'for I prey you, gentil Sir, and for love myn,
That he wer yfet hom, and that in grete haft,
And let afay offt agein with feirnes hym to chaſte;
And fend Beryn clothis and a new fhert; [hert.
And made al wele in eche fide, and kept clofe her
Now fith it is your wyll, quod Fawnus tho anoon,
That Beryn fhall home com, for yeur fake aloon
I woll be the meffager to put your hert in efe;
And els, fo God me help, wer it nat yew to pleſe
The gras
fhuld grow on pament or I hym home
bryng.
ད
Yet nethirles forth he went, wyth too or thre
riding,
From o ftrete to anothir, enqueryng to and fro
Aftir Beryn in every plafe wher he was wont to
Seching eviry halk howris two or thre, go,
With hazardours, and othir ſuch, ther as he was
wont to be,
And fond hym not ther; but to chirche went
echone,
And at dorr they ftode a while and herd Beryn
made his mone:
They herd all his compleynt, that petoufe was to
here.
Fawnus into the chirch pryvelich gan pire,
But al fo fone as he beheld wher Agea lay
His teris ran down be his chekis, and thus he gan
to fey:
A, Agea! myn old love, and my new alfo!
Alas, that evir our hertis fhuld depart atoo!
For in your gracioufe dayis of hert'is trobilnes
I had nevir knowlech, but of all gladnes ;
Remembryng in his hert, and evir gan renewe
The goodnes betwene them both, and hir hert
trewe,
And drew hym ner to Beryn with an hevy mode.
But as fone as Beryn knew and ondirftode
That it was his fadir, he wold no longir abide,
But anoon he voidit by the toḍir fide,
And Fawnus hym encountrid, and feyd, We have
the fought
Through the town, my gentil fone, and ther'for
void the nought.
Though I feyd a word or two, as me thought for
the beſt
For thyne erudicioune, to drawe the onto lyfe ho-
neft,
Thou fhuldiſt nat fo fervently have take it to thyn
hert :
But fith I know my wordis doith the fo fore fmert
Shall no more hereaftir; and eche dey our diete
Shall be mery and felafe, and this fhall be forgete;
For wele Iwoot for thy modir that thou art to tore,
Alfo thou haft grete forowe, but onys nedith, and
no more:
And ther'for, fone, on my bleffing to put forowe
away;
Drawe the nowe heraftir to honiſt myrth and pley,
Lo ther is clothing for yewe, and yeur hors ydight
With harneys all freſhe new; and if yee lift be
knyght
I fhall yit or eve that bergeyn undirtake, [make;
That the Emperour for my love a knyght fhail you
And what that evir ye nede anoon it fhall be
bought,
For whils that I have eny thing ye fhall lak naught.
Graunt mercy! quod Beryn with an hevy chere,
Of yeur worshipfull profir that ye have proferid
me here:
But ordir of knyghthode to take is nat my liking:
And fithyeur will is for to do fomwhat my plefing,
Ye have a wyle ye love wele, and ſo tenderlich,
That and fhe have children I know right fikerlich
All that the can devyfe both be nyght and dey
Shall be to make her childryn heirs of that fhe
may,
And eke fowe fedis of infelicite,
Wher'of wold growe devylioune betwene yewe
and me:
For yf ye fpend on me yeur good, and thus riallich
Levith wele, in certen yeur wyfe woll fikerlich
Eche dey for angir her tuſkis whet,
And to fmyte with her tunge, your hert in wrath
to fet.
Toward me from day to dey, but ye wold aply
Somwhat to hir purpofe and aftir hir yew guy;
She wold wex fo ovirtwart and of fo lither tach,
And evir lour undir her hood a redy for to fnache,
She wold be ſhorfyng of yeur lyfe, and that defire
I naught:
Wher'for to plefe all about, my purpoſe and my
thought
Is for to be a Marchaunte, and leve myn heritage,
And relefe it for evir, for fhyppys fyve of flage
Full of marchaundife the beft of all this londe :
And yf ye woll fo, fadyr, quyk let make the bonde,
Fawnus was right well apayd that ilk word out-
ftert,
But yit he feyd to Beryn, I mervell in myn hert
Wher haddift thou this counfaille to leve thyne
honour,
And lyve in grete aventure and in grete labour;
And rid 10 forth talkyng a foft efy pale
Homward to his plafe ther that Rame was.
And as fone as Fawnus was ylight adown,
And highid faft to his wyfe, and with hir gan
to rown,
And told hir all the purpofe, and made Fawnus
chere,
She did hym nat half fo much the tyme fhe was
his fere.
She hullid hym, and mollid hym, and toke hym
about the nekk,
And went low for the kitc, and made many a bekk;
And feyd, Sir, by yeur fpech now right well I here
That yf ye lift ye mowe do thing that I moſt de-
fire;
And that is this, yeur heritage there yeu beft likid
That ye myght gyve; and evir among the brush
awey the pikid
From hir clothis here and there, and fighid ther»
withall.
Fawnus of his gentilnes by hir myddil fmale
Hertlich bir bracyd, and feyd, I woll nat leve,
I fuyr yew my trowith that onys or it be eve
That I fhall do my devoir without feintife
For to plefe your hert fullich in all wyfę,
THE MERCHANT'S
247
SECOND TALE, &c.
Graunt mercy! myn own foverene, quod Rame
tho mekely,
And made proteftatioune that fhe ſhuld fikerly
All the dayis of hir lyfe be to hým as hende.
As evir woman was to man, as ferforth as hir
mynd
And wit hir wold ferve, and made grete othe,
Fawnus bood no longir, but forth therwith he
goith.
A! precious God in heven, Kyng of majeſte!
So plentivouſe this world is of iniquite!
Why is to yfuffrid that trowith is brought adorn
Wyth techery and falfbede in feld and eke in town?
But now to Fawnus and his entent. When he his
fone met
He toke hym foft by the hond; his tung he gan
to whet,
Sotilly to engyne him. Firſt he gan to preche,
Leve thy foly, my dere fone, and do as I the teche:
Sith thou haft wit and refon, and art of mann'ys
age,
What nedith the be Marchaunt and fhall have
heritage?
For and thy good wer yloft the forowe wold be
myne,
To tell the foth, right nigh peregall to thyne;
And yf that I were dede whils thow wer oute
Lond and rent, and all my good, have thou no
doute,
It wold be plukkid from the; thy part wold be
And alfo ferthermore, I make oon beheeft, [left:
That I trowe my moblis wol nat ſuffife
To charge fyve fhippis ful of marchandiſe
But yf I leyd in mortgage my lond and eke my
rent,
And that I leve be nat thy wyll ne thyn entent:
Yit nethirles yf thy hert be fo inly fet
For to be a Marchaunt, for nothing woll I let
That I n'yl do thy plefaunce as ferforth as I mey
To go ryght nygh myn own eftate, but levir I
had nay.
Their wordis ne their dedis, ne matters them be-
twene,
I wol nat tary now ther'on my perchemen to
fpene:
But fynallich, to the end of their accordèment,
Fawnus had fo goon about, yturned and ywent,
That he had brought his fone tofore the Empe-
To relefe his heritage and al his honour, [rour,
That he fhuld have aftir his dey, for fhippis fyve,
and full
Yled of marchaundife of lynnen and of wool,
And of othir thingis that wer yufid tho.
Engrofid was the covenannt betwene them to
Yn prefence of the Emperour,in opyn and norown,
Tofore the gretift Cenators and eldeft of the town.
So when the relefe felid was with a fyde bonde
They wer yleyd both in a meen honde
Into the tyme that Bery fallich fefid were
In the fyve fhippis that I yew told ere.
But who was glad but Fawnus? and to his wyff
went
And feyd, Now, my hert'is fwete! all thyn hole
eptunt
Ys uttirlich perfourmyd; us lakkith now no more
But marchaundife and fhippis, as I told tofore.
That fhall not faill, quod Rame, and began to
daunce,
And aftirward they fpeken of the purveaunce.
Alas! this fals world, ſo ful of trechery?
In whom fbuld the fone have truſt and feith fikirly
If his fadir faylid bym? whether myght he go
For to fynd a fikir frend that he myght trust to!
So when thefe five fhippis wer rayid and dight
Fawnus and his fone to the Emperour ful right.
They went, and many a grete man for the fame
cafe,
To fee both in poffeffioune, as ther covenaunte
Beryn first was fefid in the fhippis fyve, [was.
And Fawnus had the relefe, and bare it to his
wyff;
And eche held them payde, and Rame beft of all,
For fhe had conquerid thing that caufid moft hir
gall.
Now leve I Fawnys and his wyff, and of the go-
vernaunce
Of Beryn I wol fpeke, and alfo of his chaunce.
When lodiſmen and maryneris in al thing redy
was
This Beryn into Alifaunder, yf God wold fend
hym grace
That wynde hym wold ferve, he wold: fo on a day
The wynd was good, and they feylid on ther wey
Too dayis fullich, and a nyght therwythal,
And had wedir at wyll, tyll at laft gan fall
Such a myft among them that no man myght fe
othir,
That wele was hym that had ther the bleffing of
his modir.
For thre dayis inceffantly the darknes among
them was,
That no fhipp myght fe othir; wherfor full oft
Alas!
They feyd, and to the high God they made their
preyere,
That he wold of his grace them govern and ftere
So that their lyvis myght favid be,
For they were cleen in difpeyr, becaufe they
myght nat fe
The loder, wherby thefe shipmen ther cours toke
ech one.
So at last, the ferth day, making thus hir mone,
The dey gan clere; and then fuch wynd aroſe
That blew their fhippis ellewhere then was their
first purpofe.
The tempeft was fo huge and fo ftrong alfo,
That wele was hym that coude bynde or ondo
Any rope within the fhipp that longit to the craft;
Every man fhewed his connyng to fore the fhipp
and bafft,
The wynd a wook the fee to braft, it blew fo
grelly fore,
That Beryn and all his company of fynnys las and
more
| Eche man round about ſhroff hymſelf to othir,
And put in Godd'is gowernaunce lyf, fhipp, and
ftrothir;
Qiiij
į
248
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &c.
i
For ther was fhippis meyne, for owght they coud
hale,
That myght abate of the fhipp the thiknes of a
fcale:
The wedir was fo fervent of wynd and eke of
thundir
That every ſhipp from othir was blowe of fight
afondir,
And durid fo al day and nyght, tyll on the morowe
I trow it was no queftioune wher they had joy or
forowe.
So aftirward, as God wold, the wynd was fom-
what ſoft,
Beryne clepid a maryner, and bad hym fty on loft,
And weyte aftir our four fhippis aftir us doith
dryve,
For it is but grace of God yf they be alyve.
A maryner anoon wyth that, right as Beryn bad,
Styed into the top caftell, and brought hym ty-
dings glad:
Sir, he feith, beth mery;yeur fhippis comith echone
Saff and found failing, as ye fhul fe anoon;
And eke, Sir, ferthermore, lond alſo I figh,
Let draw our cors eftward, thys tyde woll bryng
us ny.
Bleffed be God! quod Beryn, then wer our ſhippis
com,
We have no ncde to dout werr ne moleftatioune,
For ther n'ys wythin our ſhippis no thyng of ſpo-
liatioune,
But al trew marchaundife; wherefor for lodiſman
Stere onys into the coftis as well as thou can ;
When our fhippis be ycom, that we mowe pas in
fere,
Lace on a bonnet or tweyn, that we mowe faile
nere.
And when they wer the coftis nygh was noon of
them alle
That wift what lond it was: then Beryn gan to
calle
Out of every fhip anoon a maryner or tweyne
For to take counfeil, and thus he gan to feyne :
The frountis of this ilk town been wondir feir
wythall,
Methinketh it is the beft rede, what that evir be-
fall,
That I my felf aloon walk into the towne,
And here and fe both her and ther, upward and
downe,
And enquere fullich of their governaunce.
What fey ye Sirs? woll ye fent to this ordenaunce?
All they accordit well therto and held it for the
beft,
[reft,
For thus yf it be profitabill we mowe abide and
And yf it be othirwife the rathir fhall we go,
For aftir that the fpede we woll work and do.
But nowe mowe ye her right a wondir thing:
In all the world wyde fo fals of their lyvyng
Was no pepill undir fonc, ne none fo diffeyvabill,
As was the pepill of this town, ne more unſtabill,
And had a curfed ufage of fotill ymaginacioune,
That yffo wer the fhippis of any ftraunge nacioune
Were com into the port, anoon they wold them hide
Within their own howfis, and no man go ne ryde
|
In no ſtrete of alle the town; afcaunce that they
wer lewde,
And coud no fkill of marchandiſe, a ſkill it was a
fhrewde,
As ye fhull here aftir of their wrong and falfhede;
But yit it fill, asworthy was, oppon their own hede.
Beryn arayd hym fresfhly, as to a Marchand
longith,
And fet hym on a palfrey wel be fey and hongit,
And a page rennyng by his hors fete :
He rode endlong the town, but no man coud he
meet;
The dorrys wer yclofid in both too fidis,
Wherof he had mervell: yet ferthermore he ridis,
And waytid on his right hond a mancipil'is plafe
All fresh and new, and thidir gan he pafe:
The gatis wer wyde up, and thidir gan he go,
For throughout the long town he found ſo no mo.
Therin dwellid a burgeyfe the moft fcliper man
Of all the town throughout, and what fo he wan
With trechery and gile, as doith fom freris,
Right fo muſt he part with his comperis.
Beryn light down on his hors, and inward gan
he dres,
And fond the good man of the houſe pleying at
chefs
With hys neyghbour, as trewe as he, that dwelliḍ
hym faft by.
But as fone as this burgeyfe on Beryn caft his eyę
Sodenly he ftert up, and put the chefs hym fro,
And toke Beryn by the hond, and feyd theſe wor-
dis tho;
Benedicite; what manere wynd hath ybrought you
here?
Now wold to God I had wherof, or coud make
yew chere!
But
ye fhull lowe my good wyll, and take fuch as
ther is,
And of yeur gentil paciens fuffir that is amys.
For well he wift by his aray and by his counte
naunce
That of the fhippis that wer ycom he had fom go-
vernaunce,
Wherfor he made hym chere femyng amaybill,
Icolerid all with cautelis, and wondir diffeyvabill:
He bracyd hym by the myddil, and preyd hym fit
adoun,
And lowly with much worſhipp dreffid his cosfhon.
Lord God! feyd this burgeyfe, I thank this ilk dey
That I fhuld fee yew hole and found here in my
contray;
my
And yf ye lift to tell the caufe of yewr comyng,
And yf ye have nede to any manere thing,
And it be in my power, and thoughe I fhuld it
fech,
It ſhuld go right wonder ſtreyte, I fey yew fiker-
But yee it had in hafte, therwith yew plefe, [lich,
For now I fee yew in my houfe my hert is in grete efe.
The todir burgeyfe rofe hym up for to make rouſe,
And axid of his felaw, that lord was of the houſe,
Whens is this worſhipfull man? with wordis hend
and low,
For it femith by the manere that ye hym fhuld
knowe
THE MERCHANT'S
249
SECOND TALE, &c.
;
And have fey hym tofore this tyme. I have fene,
quod the todir,
Ye ywis an 100 fithis, and right as to my brodir
I wol do hym plefaunce in al that evir I can,
For trewlich in his contray he is a worshipful man:
Forfoth, Sir, and for your love, a thoufand in this
town
Wold do hym worship, and be right feyne and
bown
To plefe hym, and avail to have thonk of you:
I wcot wele, God them yeld, fo have they oft er
nowe.
And aroſe up therwithall, and with his felaw fpak
Of fuch manere mater that faylid nevir of lakk.
So when their confeill was ydo this burgeyfe preyd
his fere
[chere,
To fit a down be Beryn, and do hym ſport and
And in the while I wol fe to his hors,
For every gentil hert, afore his own cors
Defirith that his riding beft fervid and ydight
Rather than hymfelf; wherfor wyth all my myght
I woll have an eye therto; and fich parte wyyn
Win tonne or pipe is beft and most fyne.
Bryn was all abafhid of his foden chere,
But nethiries the burgeyfe fat hym fomwhat nere,
And preyd hym of his gentilnes his name for to tell,
His concrey and his lynnage: and he anfwer'd inell,
Berinus I am ynamid, and in Rome ybore,
And have fyve fhippis of myn own, las and more,
Full of marchaundife, ligging tofore the town;
But much marvaille have I the good man is fo boun
To ferve me and plefe, and how it might be.
Sir, feyd the burgeyfe, no mervelle it is to me,
For many a tying and oft, I cannot fey how lome,
He hath be in your marchis; and as I trow in Room
Also he was ybore, yf I ne ly fhall.
Yfit be fo, quod Beryn, no mervelle it is at all
Thoughe he may have yfey, and eke his gentill
chere
Previth it all opynly; but be hym that bought me
dere
I have ther' of no knowlech, as I am now avyfid.
With that cam in the good man with countenaunce
difgifid,
And had enqueryd of the child that with Beryn cam
Fro gynnyng to the endyng, and told his maftris
name,
And of Agea his modir, and all thing as it was,
Wher-through he was ful perfite to anfwere to e-
very cas;
So entryng into the hall the burgeys fpak anoon,
A! my gentill Beryn, alas! that under ftonne
Myn own hert Agea, thy modir leff and dere!
Now God affoyl hir foule, for nevir bettir chere
Had I of frend woman, ne nevir half fo good.
Benedicite a Marchaunt comyng ovir flood!
Who brought yew in this purpos, and beth your
fadir's heir?
Now by my trew confcience ryght nygh in difpeyr
I wax for your fake, for now frendlefe
Ye mowe wele fey that ye been; but yit for ne-
thirles
Yee mut endure fortune and hevynes put awey;
Ther is noon othir wifdom. Alfo yeur fhippis gey,
3
That been ycom in favete, ought to amend yeur
mode,
The wich when we have dyned, I fwere for by the
rood,
We wol fe them trewly within and eke without,
And have wyne wyth us and drynk al about.
They fet and wish, and fed them, and had wher-
of plente;
The burgeyfe was a ſtuffid man, ther lakkid noon
deynte.
So when they had ydined the cloth was up ytake,
A chefe ther was ybrought forth, but tho Io-
gan
rowe to wake.
The ches was all of ivory, the meyne fresh and
new,
I pulsfhid and ypikid of white, afure, and blew.
Beryn beheld the cheker, it femed paffyng feir;
Sir, quod the burgeyfe, ye fhul fynd her a payr
That woll mate yew trewly in las than half a myle,
And was yfeyd of fotilte Beryn to begile
Now in foth, quod Beryn, it myght wel hap nay,
And ne'er I muſt my fhippis fe els I wold affay.
What nedith that, quod the burgeyſe? trewlich I
wol nat glofe,
They been nat yit yfetelid ne fixid in the woſe;
For I have fent thries fith ye hither cam
To wait oppon their governaunce; wher'for let fet
o game,
And I fhall be the firft that ſhall yew ataft.
The meyne wer yfet up, and gon to play faſt.
Beryn wan the firft, the fecond, and the third,
And at fourth game' in the ches amyd
The burgeyfe was ymatid; but that luft him wele;
And all was doon to bryng hym yn, as ye fhul
her fnel.
Sir, then, feyd Beryn, ye woot well how it is,
Me lift no more to pley, for yee know this,
Wher is noon comparifoun, of what thing fo it be,
Luft and liking fallith ther: as it femeth me
Ne myrth is nat commendabill that ay is by o
is by o fide,
But it rebound to the totbir; wherfore tyme is to ryde;
And as many thonkis as I can or may
Of my fport and chere, and alſo of yeur pley.
Nay iwis, gentill Beryn, I woot ye wol nat go,
For noritur wol it nat for to part fo,
And eke my condicioune; but I ley fomething
Is no more to pley then who fo fhoke a ryng
Ther no man is wythyn the ryngyng to anſwere ;
To fhete a fethirles bolt almoſt as good me were :
But and ye wold this next game fom manir wager
legg,
And let the trowith on both fidis be morgage and
yplegg,
That whofo be ymatid graunt and affent
To do the todirs bidding, and whofo do repent
Drynk all the watir that falt is of the fee.
Beryn belevid that he coud pley betir than he,
And fodinly affentid, with hond in hond affurid.
Men that ftode befides, ycappid and yhurid.
Wift wele that Beryn fhuld have the wers mes,
For the burgeyfe was the best pleyer at ches
Of all the wyde marchis, or many a myle about;
But that ne wyft Beryn of, ne caſt ther'of no
doute:
250
..
THE MERCHANT'S
SECOND TALE,
He fet the meyne efft ageyn, and toke betir hede
Then he did tofore; and fo he had nede.
The burgeyfe toke aviſement long on every
draught,
So wyth an hour or two Beryn he had ycaught
Somwhat oppon the hipp, that Beryn had the wers.
And albeit his mynd and wyll was for to curs,
Yit muſt he dure his fortune when he was fo fer
ygo;
For Who is that that Fortune may alrvay undɔ!
And namelich ftout even in eche fide
Of pro and contra: but God help down woll he
glide.
But now a word of philofophy that fallith to my
mynd;
Who take bede of the begynnyng what fal fhall of the end
He leyth abufb tofore the gap ther Fortune wold inryde:
But comynlich yowith forgetith that throughout
the world wyde.
Right fo be Beryn I may wele fey that confaillis
in rakid,
Likly to lefe his marchaundife, and go hymſelf al
nakid.
Beryn ftudied in the ches, although it nought
availid;
The burgeyfe in the mene while with other men
confaillid
To fech the fergauntis in the town for thing he
had ado.
So when they come were, they walkid to and fro
Up and down in the hall, as fkaunce they knew
nought;
And yit of all the purpoſe, wit, and mynd, and
thought,
Of the untrew burgeyſe, by his meſſengeris
They wer ful enformyd: wherfor with eye, and
eris, and heft,
They lay await full doggidly Beryn to arek,
Forther'for they wer aftir fent, and was their
charge.
Lord! how fhuld o fely lomb among wolvis weld,
And ſcape unyharmyd? it hath been feyn feld.
Kepe thy cut now, Beryn, for thow art in the caſe.
The hall was full of pepill, the ferjauntis fhewid
their maſe;
Beryn kaſt up his hede, and was ful fore amayid,
For then he was in certen the burgeyfe had hym
betrayde.
Draw on, feyd the burgeyfe; Beryn, ye have the
wers;
And every man to othir the covenaunt gan reherfe.
The burgeys, whils that Beryn was in hevy thought,
'The next draught aftir he toke a rook for nought.
Beryn fwat for angir, and was in hevy plight,
And drede full fore in hert; for wele he wift al quyt
He fhuld nat efcape, and was in high diſtreſs;
And pryvelich in his hert that ever he faw the ches
He curfid the day and tyme: but what avaylid
For wele hewift then that he fhuld be mate: [that?
He gan to chaunge his colour both pale and wan.
The burgeyfefeith; Comyth nere, ye fhul fe this man
Low he fhul be matid with what man me lift.
He droughe and feyd, Chek mate. The ferjauntis
wer full preft,
And fefid Beryn by the fcleve, and feyd, Sirs, what
think ye for,to do,
[fo?
Quod Beryn to the ferjauntis, that ye me hondith
Or what have I offendit? or what have I feide?
Trewlich, quod the ferjauntis, it vaylith nat to
breyde;
Wyth us ye muft a while wher ye wol or ne
Tofore the fteward of this town; aryfe, and trus
and go;
And ther it ſhal be openyd how wifely thow haft
wrought:
This is the end of our tale, make it nevir fo tought,
Sirs, farith feir, ye have no nede to hale. [tale,
Pas forth, quod the ferjauntis, we wol nat her thy
Yis, Sirs, of yeur curtefy I prey yew of o word:
Although my gentill hooft hath pleyed with me in
borde,
And ywon a wager, ye have naught to doon:
That is between hym and me; ye have nothyng
to doon.
The hooft made an hidoufe cry, in gefolreut the
haut,
And fet his hand in kenebowe, he lakkid nevir a
faute.
Weynst thow, feid he to Beryn, for to fcorne me?
What evir thow fpeke, or ftroute, certes it woll
nat be.
Of me fhalt thou have no wrong; pas forth a betir
pafe;
In prefence of our ſteward I woll tell my cafe.
Why, hooft, ſay yee this in erneſt or in game?
Ye know my contray, and my modir, my lynnage,
and my name;
And thus ye have yſeyd me X fith on this dey.
Ye, what though I feyd fo? I know wele it is nay ;
Ther lyth no more ther'to. But anothir tyme
Leve me fo much the les when thow comeft by me;
For all that evir I feyd was to bryng the in care,
And now I have my purpoſe I woll nothyng the
fpare.
Thus jangling to ech othir, endenting every paſe,
They entrid both into the hall ther the ſteward
was:
Evandir was his name, that fotill was, and fo fell,
He must be well avifed tofore hym fhuld tell.
Anothir burgeyfe wyth hym was, provoft of the
That Hanybald was yclepid, but of fotilte [cete,
He paffid many anothir, as ye fhul here fone.
Berynus hooft gan to tell al thyng as it was doon
Fro gynnyng to the endyng, the wordis wyth the
dede,
And how they made their covenaunt, and wager
how they leyd.
Now Beryn, quod the fteward, thou haft yherd
this tale,
How and in what mancre thou art ybrought in
bale;
Thow muft do his byddyng, thow maiſt yn no
wyfe flee,
Or drynk all the watir that falt is in the fee:
Of theſe too thingis thow muft chefe the toon;
Now be well avyfid, and fey they will ancon.
To do yee both law I may no betir fey, [mey:
For thow fhalt have no wrong, as ferforth as I
i
I
THE MERCHANT'S
251
SECOND TALE, &c.
Chefe the felf right as the lift, and wit thou no-
thing me
Though thow chefe the wers and let the betir be.
Beryn fode aftonyd, and no mervaill was, [cafe;
And preyd the ſteward of a dey to anfwere to the
For I might lightlich in fom word be ycaught,
And eke it is right herd to chefe of to that beth
right naught:
But and it wer yeur likyng to graunt me day tyl
to morowe
I wold answer through Godd'is help. Then muſt
thow fynd a borowe,
Seyd the ſteward to Beryn, and yit it is of grace.
Now herith me, quod Hanybald, I prey a litil fpafe: |
He hath five hippis ondir the town, lyggyng on
the ſtrong,
The wich been fufficiant yfefid in our hond,
By me that am yeur provoft to execute the law.
He muft affent. Quod Evander, Let us onys here
his faw.
I graunt wele, quod Beryn, fith it may be noon
othir.
Then Hanybald arofe hym up to fefe both ſhip
and ftrothir,
[wey,
And toke Beryn wyth hym: fo talkyng on the
Beryn, quod Hanybald, 1 fuyr the be my fey
That thow art much ybound to me this ilk dey,
So is thy ple amendit by me; and eke of ſuch a wey
I am avyfid in thy caufe, yf thow wolt do by rede,
That lite or nought by my counfaill ought the to
drede.
Yee know wele to morowe the dey of ple is fet
That ye mut nedis anfwere, or els wythout lett
I muft yeld them yeur fhippis; I may in no wyfe
blyn;
So have I undertake: but the merchaundife wythin
Is nat in my charge, ye knowe as wele as I,
To make ther' of no lyvery: wher'for now wyfely
Worch, and do aftir rede: let all your merchaun-
Be voidit of yeur fhippis, and at hieft prife [dife
I wol have it every dele in covenaunt; yf ye
lift
To fe myne houſe here onys tofore, I hold it for
the best,
Wher ye fhull fe of divers londis, houfes to or thre
Full of marchaundife, that through this grete cete
Is no fuch in preve, I may right well avowe.
So when he have all feyn, and I have yeur alfo,
Let fom bargen be ymade betwene us both too.
Graunt mercy! Sir, quod Beryn, yeur profir is feir
and good;
Feyn wold I do ther'aftir yf I ondirſtood
I myght wythout blame of breking of areft.
Yis, quod Hanybald, at my perell me truſt.
So to Hanybald's houfe togidir both they rode,
And fend, as Hanybald had yfeyd, an houge houfe,
long and brode,
Full of marchaundife as rich as it may be, [cete.
Paffyng all the marchantis that dwellid in that
Thus when all was fhewid they dronk and toke
their leve,
So fe Beryn's fhippis in haft they gon to meve.
And when that Hanybald was avyfid what charge
the ſhippis bere
[nere
He gan to fpcke, in his wyfe afcaunce, he rought
Whethir he bargenynd or no, and feyd thus: Be-
ryn, frend,
Your marchaundife is feir and good, now let us
make an end
If yee lift; I can no more; ye knowith how it is.
Ccm, of ſhort let tuk them yn, methinkith I fe
nat mys,
And then yeur meyne and ye, and I, to my houſe
fhall we go,
And of the marchaundife I faw I wol not part
Chefe of the beft of that ye find there [therfro;
Throughout the long houſe, ther ſhal no man yeu
dere,
And therwith fhall yeur fhippis be filled all fyve:
I can fey no betir: yf ye lift to dryve
[men;
This bargen, to the end counfel!ith with yeur
I may nat long tary, I muſt nedis hen.
Beryn clepid his meyne counfell for to take;
But his firft mocioune was of the woo and wrake,
And all the tribulacioune, for pleying at ches,
That he had, every dele his fhame and his dures
Fro poynt to poynt, and how it ftode, he told how
it was,
And then he axid counfaill what beſt was in the
cafe,
To chaunge with the burgeyfe or els for to leve?
Eche man feyd his aviſe; but al that they did meve
It wer to long a tale for to tell it here :
But fynally, at end, they cordit al in fere
That the chaunge fhuld ſtond, for as the caſe was
fall
They held it clerely for the beſt, and went forth
wythall
The next wey that they couth to Hanybald'is plafe.
But now fhull ye here the moft fotill fallace
That ever man wrought till othir, and higheſt
trechery,
Wich Hanybald had wrought hymfelf to this com-
pany.
Go in, quod Hanybald, and chefe, as thy cove-
naunt is.
In goon theſe Romeyns ech oon, and fond a mys;
For there was nothing that eny man might fe
Saff the wall and tyle ftonys, and tymbir made of
tre;
For Hanybald had do void it of all thing that was
there;
Whils he was at the fhippis his men away it bere.
When Beryn faw the houfe ler that ful wasther'to-
fore
Of riche marchaundife, alas! thought he, Iam lore,
I am in this world; and wittith well his hert
Was nat al in likeing; and outward gan he ftert
Like half a wodeman, and bete both his lippis,
And gan to haft faft towards his own fhippis,
To kepe his good within wyth al that evir he
myght,
That it were nat diſchargit, as hym thought verrcy
right.
But al for naught was his haft, for 300 men,
As faft as they myght, they bare the good then,
Through ordenaunce of Hanybald, that pryvelich
tofore
Had purpofid and ycaft fhuld be out ybore,
0252
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &%.
Beryn made a fwyff pafe; ther myght no man hym; The blynd man caft awey his ſtaff, and ſet on both
let;
But Hanybald was ware inough, and with Beryn
met:
All for nought: Beryn, thou knoweft well and fyne
The fhippis ben areiftid, and the good is myne.
What woldeft thow do ther? thow haft ther
nowght to do;
I wol hold thy covenaunt and thow myn alfo.
For yit faw I nevir man that was of thy manere;
Sometyme thou wilt avaunte, and fome tyme.
arere:
Now thow wilt, and now thow n'olt. Wher fhul
men the fynd?
Now fey oon, and fith anothir So variant of mynd
Saw I nevir tofore this dey man ſo variabill.
Sith I the fynd in fuch plyte, our bargen for to
ftabill,
We woll tofore the fteward, ther we both fhull
have right.
Nay, forfoth, quod Beryn. Yis treulich the tite,
Quod Hanybald, wher thou wolt or no, and fo
I the charge
As provoſt: know that yf me lift my warant is fo
large,
And thow make any diffence, to bynym thy lyffe.
Take thyn hors; it gaynyth nat for to make ftryffe.
So wyth forowfull hert Beryn toke his hors,
And foftly ſeyd to his men, Of me, quod he, no fors,
But wend to yeur fhippis; I wol com when I may;
Ye feth well everichone I may no bet awey.
Now here by this fame Tale both fre and bond
Mow fele in their wittis; and eke ondirftonde
That Litill vailith wyfdom or
els
governaunce
Ther Fortune evir werrieth, and eke Hap and Chaunce,
Or what availeth bounte, bervte, or riches,
Frendship, or fotilte, or els bardines,
Gold, good, or catell, wyt, or by lynage,
Lord, or lordis fervice, or els bigh peerage?
What may all this avayle ther Fortune is a foo?
I wis right litill, or nevir a dele: full oft it fallith fo.
So, fhortly to pas ovir, they fill to fuch an end
That Beryn fhuld have day ageyn a moro we, and
fo to wend
He fet hym in ful purpoſe to his fhippis ward;
But yit or he cam ther he fond the paffage hard:
For how he was begiled throughout all the towne
Ther and ther a coupill gan to fpeke and to roune;
And every man his purpoſe was to have parte
With falfnes, and with fotiltees; they coud noon
othir art,
Beryn rode forth in his wey, his page ran hym by,
Full fore adred in hert, and caft about his eye
Up and down, even long the frete, and for angir
fwet;
And cr he had riden a ſtone's caft, a blynd man
with him met,
And fpak no word, but fefid hym faft by the lap,
And cried out and harrowe, and nere hym gan to
ftap.
All for nought, quod this blynd; what! wenyft
thow for to fkape?
Beryn had thought to prik forth, and thought it
had be jape.
t
his hondis ;
Nay, thow fhalt nat void, quod he, for all thy rich
londis,
Tyll I of the have refon, lawe, and eke righte,
For trewlich I may wit it the that I have loft my
fight.
So for ought that Beryn coud othir ſpeke or prey
He myght in no wyfe pas; ful fore he gan to may,
And namelich for the pepill throng hym fo about,
And eche man gan hym hond, and feyd, Without
doute
Ye muſt nedes ftond, and reft, and bide the lawe,
Be
ye nevir fo grete a man. So wold I wonder fawe,
Quod Beryn, yf yee had cauſe, but I know noon.
No, thou fhalt know or thow go thow haft nat
al ydoon,
The blynd man feyd to Beryn. Tell on them,
quod he.
Here is no place to plete, the blynd man feyd age,
Alfo we have no juge here of autorite;
[me.
But Evandir the fteward fhall deme both the and
When I my tale have told, and thow haft made
anfwere,
By that tyme men fhull know how thow canft the
clere.
Now, foveren God! I thank the of this ilk dey ;
Then I may preve the, be my lyve, of word and
eke of fay
Fals, and eke untrewe of covenaunt thow haft
ymakid.
But litill is thy charge now though that I go nakid
That fometyme wer partinere, and rekenydft nevir
yit;
But thou shalt bere or we depart ther' of a litill
For aftir comyn feyng, Evir atte ende [witt,
The trowith woll be previd how fo men evir trend.
Thus they talkid to eche othir tyl they com into
the plafe,
And wer yentrid in the hall ther the ſteward was.
The blynd man firſt gan to ſpake: Sir Steward,
for Godd'is fake,
Herith me a litill while, for here I have ytake
He that hath do me wrong moſt of man of mold;
Be my help, as law woll, for hym that Judas fold.
Ye know wele that oft tyme I have to yew
ypleynid
How I was betrayed, and how I was ypenid,
And how a man fome tyme and I our yen did
chaunge:
This is the fame perfone, though that he make it
ftraunge:
I toke them hym but for a tyme, and wenyd
trewly
Myne to have that yhad ageyn; and fo both he and I
Were enfured uttirlich, and was our both will;
But for myne the bettir were wrongfullich and
ille
He hath them kept hidirto, wyth much forowe and
pyne
To me, as ye wele knowith; becauſe I have nat
miyne
I may nat fe with his; wherfor me is ful woo:
And evirmore yefeyd that ye myght nothing do
THE MERCHANT'S
253
SECOND TALE, &c.
Without prefence of the man that wrought me
this unquert:
Now fith he is tofore you now let hym nat aftert;
For many tyme and oft yee behete me
And he myght be take he ſhuld do me gre.
Sith ye of hym be felid, howevir ſo ye tave,
Let hym nevir pas tyl I myn yen have.
Beryn, quod Evandir, herift thow nat they felve
How focilly he pletith, and ware by eche halve?
Beryn fode all muët, and no word he ſpake;
And that was tho his grace; ful fone he had be
take
And he had myffeyd onys, or els yfeyd nay;
For then he had been negatyff, and undo for ay:
For they weregrete Seviliouns, and ufid probat law,
Where evirmore affirmatyf fhuld preve his own
faw:
Wher'fore they were fo quereloufe of all myght
com in mynd,
Though it wer nevir in dede ydo; fuch matere
they wold fynd
To benym a man his good through fom manir gile;
For the blynd man wift right wele he fuld have
loft his whyle
To make his pleynt on Beryn, and fuyd oppon his
good,
For fhippis and eke marchaundife in a balaunce
ftode;
Ther'for he made his chalenge his yen for to have,
Or els he fhuld for them fyne yf he wold them
have,
And ligg for them in hoſtage tyil the fynaunce cam:
This was all the fotilte of the blynd man.
Beryn ftode all muët, and no word he fpak.
Beryn, quod Evander, left thow be ytake
In defaute of anfwere thou myghtift be condemp-
nyd,
Be right wele avyfid, fith thou art examenyd.
Sir, feyd Beryn, it wold litill availe
To anfwere thus aloon without good counfaill;
And alſo ferthermore, full litill I ſhuld be levid,
Whatevir, I answered, thus ftonyd and reprevid;
And eke my wit doith faille;,and no wondir is;
Wher'for I wold prey yew, of yewr gentilnes,
To graunt me dey tyll to morowe I might be
avyfide
To anſwere forth, wyth othir that on me been
furmyfid.
Deperdeux! quod the fteward, I graunt wel it be fo.
Beryn toke his leve, and hopid to
pas and
go:
But as fone as Beryn was on his hors ryding
He met a woman and a child wyth fad chere
conyng,
That toke hym by the reyn, and held hym wondir
faft,
And feid, Sir, voidith nat yit, vailith nat to hafte;
Ye mow in no wyfe ſcape; ye muſt nedis abyde;
For though ye lift to know me nat, yit lien by
yeur fide
I have ful many a tyme, I can nat tell yew lome.
Come tofore the fteward, ther fhall ye here yeur
dome
Of thing that I fhall put on yew, and no word for
To leve me thus aloon it is yeur villany. [to ly:
|
Alas the day and tyme that evir I was yeur make
Much have I endured this too yere for yeur fake!
But now it fhall be know who is in the wronge.
Beryn was all abafhid, the pepill fo thik thronge;
About him in eche fide: for ought that he couth
peyn
He muft to the ſteward of fyne fors ageyn.
Now fhull ye here how. fotilich this woman gan
hir tale
In prefence of the fteward. With colour wan and
pale
Petoufly fhe gan to tell; and feid, Sir, to yew
Full oft have compleyuyd in what manere and
My childlis fadir left me, by myſelf aloon, [how
Without help or comforte, as grete as I myght
goon,
Wyth my fon here and his, that fhame it is to tell
The perury that I have yhad, that afors fell
I muſt nedis myne aray, wher me lift or lothe,
Or els I muſt have beggit for to fynd us bothe;
For there was nevir woman I leve, as I ges,
For lak of hede of lyvelode that lyvid in more
diftres
Then I my felf for oft tyme for lake of mete and
drink;
And yit Itrow no creature was feyner for to fwinke
My lyff to fuftene: but as I mut nede
Above all othir thingis to his child take hede,
That wondir is and mervaile that I am alyve;
For the fokyng of his right as it were a knyve
It ran into my hert; fo low I was of mode
That well I woot in certen with percell of my
blode
His child I have ynorifhid; and that is by me feen;
For my rede colour is turnid into grene:
And he that caufe is of all here he ſtondith by me;
To pay for the foſteryng methinkith it is tyme.
And fith he is my huſbond, and hath on me no
rowith,
Let hym make amendis in faving of his trowith.
And yf he to any word onys can fay nay
Lo! here my gage, al redy to preve all that I fey.
The ftewarde toke the gage, and fpak in foft wyſe;
Of this peroufe compleynt a mann'ys hert may
grife,
For I know in percell hir tale is nat all lefe,
For many a time and oft this woman that here is
Hath ybe tofore me, and pleynid of hir greffe,
But without a party hir caufe myght nat preffe.
Now thou art here prefent that ſhe plenyth on,
Make thy defence now, Beryn, as wele as thow
Beryn ftode all muët, and no word he fpak. [con.
Beryn, quod the fteward, doift thow fclepe or
Sey onys oon or othir : is it foth or nay. [wake?
As the hath declarid? tell on faunce delay.
Lord God! quod Beryn, what fhuld it me availe
Among fo many wife, without right good coun-
faill,
To tell eny tale? full litil as I ges :
Wher'for I wold prey you of your gentilnes
Graunt me day tyl to morrowe to anſwer forth
with othir.
I graunt wele, quod the ſteward, but for fadir and
modir,
-254
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE &c.
Thow getift no lenger tyme pleynly I the tell.
Beryn toke his leve; his hert gan to fwell
For pure verrey angùysfh; and no mervaill was;
And who is that that n'old and he wer in fuch
cafe?
For al his trift and hope in eny worldich thing
Was cleen from hym paflid, fave forowe and my-
flykyng;
For body, good, and catell, and lyff, he fet at
nought,
So was his hert ywoundit for angir and for thought.
Beryn paffyd foftly, and to his hors gan go;
And when he was without the gatis, he lokid to
and fro,
And coud noon othir countenaunce; but to his
page he feyd,
Precioufe God in heven! how falfly am I betrayd!
I trow no man alyve ftont it wers plight,
And all is for my fynne, and for my yong delite;
And pryncipally above all thyng for grete un-
kyndnes
That I did to my medir; for littil hede iwis
I toke of hir, this know I wele, while fhe was alyve,
Therfor al this turment is fent to me fo ryve:
For ther was nevir wemon kynder to hir child
Than fhe was; and ther ageyns nevir thing fo
Ne fo evil thewid as I was my ſelf,
Ther❜for forowe and happs environ me by eche
hclve,
[wyld
That I n'ote whider ryde ncthir up ne down,
Ther ben fo many devillis dwellyng in this town,
And fo ful of gile and trechery alſo,
That well I woot in certeyn they woll me ondo.
Now wold to God in hevyn what is my best rede!
He toke his hors to his page, and thus to hym he
fayd,
Lede my hors to fhipward, and take it to fome
And I woll go on foot as pryvely as I can, [man,
And affay yf I may in eny manere wife
Efcape unarrefted more in fuch manner wife.
The child toke his maiftir's hors, and laſt hym there
aloon,
Walking forth on foot, making oft his moon;
And in his moſt mufing, I can nat fey how lome,
He wosfhid nakid as he was bore he had be in
Room,
And no mervaill was it as the cafe ftode,
And knoweft well myn innocent, that I have no
Of al that they purfu me or on me is pilt? [gilt
And in the meen whils that Berrn thusgan pleyn
A cachepoll ftode befidis, his name was Machaign,
And herd all the wordis, and knew alfo tofore
How Beryn was turmented both with las and
more:
It was yfprong through the town; fo was he full
enfenfid
How he hym would engyne as he had propenfid,
And had araid hym fotillich as man of contem-
placioune,
Ina mantellwyth the lift, with fals diffimulacioune.
And a faff in his honde, as thoughe he febill were,
And drow hym toward Beryn, and ſeid in this ma-
nere:
The high God of heven, that al thing made of
nought,
Bles yew, gentil Sir, for many an hevy thought
Me thinketh that ye have, and no wondir is:
But, good Sir, difmay yew nat, but levith yewr
hevines,
And yf ye lift to tell me fomwhat of yeur distres
I hope to God Almighty in party it redres [oon,
Through my pore counfaill, and fo I have many
For I have pete on yew be God and by Seint Jen:
And eke pryvy hevines doith eche man apeir
Sodenly or he be ware, and fall in difpeir;
And who be in that plague that man is incurabill.
For confequent comyth aftir fekenes abominabill;
And ther'for, Sir, difkeverith yewe, and be no-
thing adrad.
Graunt mercy! Sir, quod Beryn, ye feme trew and
fad;
But o thing lyith in myn hert, I n'ote to whom to
truft,
For tho that dyncd me to dey ordeyned me to
areft,
A Sir! be yew that man? of yew I have yherd.
Gentill Sir, doutith nat, ne be nothing aferd
Of me, for I fhall counfell yew as well as I can,
For trewlich in the cete dwellith many a fals man,
And ufyn litil els but falfhode, wrong, and wyle,
And how they might ftraungers with trechery
begile:
But ye hul do right wifely fomewhat be my
counfail.
For he drad more to lefe his eyen than he did his Speke with the fteward; that may you moſt
fhippis or his good.
Now ye that liftith to dwell and here of aventure,
How petoufly Dame Fortune, Beryn to inure,
Turnyth hir whele about in the wers fide;
With hap of forowe and anguysfh fhe gynyth for
to ride.
Beryn paffid toward the trond ther his fhippis were,
But yee mow ondirftend his hert was full of fere;
Yet nethirles he fat hym down foftly on a ftall,
Semy'ryfe for forowe, and lenyd to the wall
For turment that he had, fo wery he wasand fent
And to God above thus he made his pleynt :
Glorious God in heven! that al thing maidft of
nought,
Why fufferift thow thefe curfid men to ftroy me
for nought,
2
|
availl;
For ther is a comyn byword, yf ye it herd havith,
Wele fatith be bis peny that the pound faith.
The fteward is a covetoufe man, that long hath
difirid
A knyff I have in keeping, wherwith his hert I
wirid ;
Shall be yew to help, in covenaunte that yee
Shall give me five mark yeur treu frend to be.
The knyff is feir, I tell yew; yet nevir tofore this
day
Myght the steward have it for aught he coud prey,
The wich ye fhuld gyve hym, the betir for to
fpede,
And behothe hym 20. to help yew in your
nede;
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE &c.
255
And yf he grauntith, truftith wele ye ftond in
good plight;
For betir is then lefe all the las the more quyt.
And I woll go wyth yew ſtraight to his plaſe,
And knele down and ípeke firſt to amend yewr
cafe,
And fay yee be my cofin; the betir ye fhul ſpede;
And when that I have all ytold the knyff to hym
yee bede.
Beryn thankid hymhertlich, and on hym gan truſt,
With hond in hond enfurid, and all for the beſt;
Beryn thought noon othir, al that it othir was.
Machaign hym comfortid, talkyng of their cafe,
And pallid forth ftylly toward the fteward blyve
Beryn and Machaign; but Beryn bare the knyff,
And truſt much in his felawe to have fom help:
But or they departed were they had no caufe to yelp.
Of no manir comfort, as ye fhull here anoon;
For as fone as Machaigne tofore the feward com
He fiil plat to the erth: a grevous plynt and an
huge
He made; and feyd, Sir Steward, now be a trew
juge
Ageyns this fals treytour that ſtondith me befyde;
Let take of hym good hede, els he woll nat abide.
Now mercy gode Steward, for yee have herd me
yore
For my fadir Mclan pleyn to you ful fore,
That with feven dromedarys, as I have told yew
lome,
With marchandiſe chargit went toward Rome,
And it is feven yere ago and a litiil more
Of hym or of his goodis that I herd les or more;
And yet I have enquered as by ely as I couthe.
And met nevir man yit that me coud tell with
mowth
Any tyding of hym onto this fame day;
But now I know too much, alas! I may wel fey.
When Beryn herd thefe wordis he kiſt down his
hede;
Allas! he thought in hert, alas! what is my rede?
And would fayn have voidit and outward gan to
ftapp,
But Machaigne arofe and fefid by the lapp :
Nay, thow fhalt not void, he ſeid; my tale is nat
ydo;
For be trowith of my body yf thou ſcapidiſt ſo
1 fhuld nevir have mery whils I wer on lyve,
And fet hond faft on Beryn's othir fcleve,
And feid, Good Sir Steward, my tale to the end
I prey ye wold here, for wend how men wend
There may no man hele murdir, but it will out at
laft:
[paft
The fame knyff my fadir bere when he of contre
Let ferch wele this felon, ther ye fhul hym find;
I know the knyff wele inough, it is nat out of my
mynd:
The cotelere dwellith in this toun that made the
fame knyff,
And for to preve the trowith he fhall be here as
blyve.
Beryn fwat for angir, his hert was full of fere;
He toke the knyff to the feward or he ferchid
were.
The ſteward onto Beryn, My frend, lo! quod he,
And thow think the well about this is foule plee :
I can know noon othir but thow muft or thow go
Yeld the body of Melan and his good alfo.
Now be well avyfid ageyne to morowe day,
Then fhalt thou have thy jugement; ther is no
more to ſay.
When Beryn fro the fteward thus departid was,
And was without the gate, he lokid oppon the plafe,
And curfid it wondir bitterly in a fervent ire,
And wisfhid many tymes it had been a fire;
For I trowe that man of lyve was never wors be-
trayid
Then I am; and therwithall my hert is cleen dif
mayid,
For here I have no frendſhip, but am all counfelles,
And they ben falsfher then Judas, and eke mere
cyles.
A, Lord God in hevyn! that my hert is woo;
And yit fuyrly I mervel nat though that it be ſo,
For yit in all my lyve fithe I ought undirítond
Had I nevir wyl for to lern good:
Foly I hauntid it ever, ther myght no man me let,
And now he hath ypaid me, he is cleen out of my
dett;
For whils 1 had tyme, wiſdom I myght have
fernyd,
But I drow me to foly, and wold nat be governed,
But had al myne own wyll, and of no man aferd,
For I was nevir chaftifid; but now myne own yerd
Betith me to fore; the ftrokis been too hard;
For theſe devillis of this town takith but littil
reward
To fclee my body to have my good. The day is
fet to morowe ;
Now wold to God I were in grave, for it wer end
of forowe.
I was iwis to much a fole; for hate I had to Rame
I wold forfake myn heritage, ther'for forowe and
fhame
Is oppon me fall, and right wele defervid,
For I toke none maner hede when my modir
ftervid,
And difobeyid my fadir, and fet hym at naught
allo;
What wondir is it than though that I have woo?
Fortune and eke Wiſdom have werrid with me
evir,
And I with them in all my lyf, for Fortune was
me levir.
Then eny wit or governaunce, for them too I did
hate;
And though I wold be at oon now it is too late.
O myghtfull God in heven! wher was evir man
That wrought hymfelf more foly than I my felf
did than?
A curfid be the tyme that I out of Rome went!
That was my fadir's right heir of lyvelode and of
rent,
And al the rial lordship that he hath in the town.
Had I had wit and grace, and hold me low and
boun,
It wer my kynd now among my baronage
To hauk and to hunt, and eke to pley and rage
เ
.256
SECOND TALE, &c.
THE MERCHANT'S
With feir frefhe ladies, and daunce when me lift;
But now it is to late to fpcke of Had I wiſt.
But I fare like the man that for to fwele his flyes
He ftert into the bern, and aftir ftre he hies,
And goith about the wallis with a brennyng waſe,
Tyll it was at laft that the leem and blafe
Entrid into the chynys where the wheate was,
And kiflid ſo the evefe that brent was all the plafe;
But firſt in the begynnyng, tyll feer fmote in the
raftris,
He toke no manere kepe, and thought of nothing
aftir
What perell there myght fall: ne more did I
ywis,
That wold forfake myn honour for the unkynd-
nes
Of Rame, that was my ftepmodir; for yf I fhall
nat ly
They beth foure; wherfore the more wifely
I fhuld have wrought, had I had wit, and fuffrid
for a tyme,
And aftir com to purpos wel inowghe of myne;
But evil avengit he is deol that for a litil mode
And angir to his neybour fellith awey his good,
And goith hymfelf a beggyng: aftir in breff
tyme
He mut be countid a lewd man in all manere
ryme.
So have I wrought and wers, for I dout of my
lyve,
How that it fhal ftond, for plukking of my fcleve
*The knyff that was me take, as ye have herd to-
fore;
And yit it grevith mine hert alſo much more.
Of myn own pepill, that no difefe afervid.
I wote wele aftir pleding ryght nought woll be
refervyd
To fuftene their lyvis: I trow ryght nought or lite,
And peraventur lightly ſtond in wors plight.
Of me it is no fors though I be thus arayed,
But it is dole and pete that they fhull be betrayid
That hath nought afervid but for my gilt aloon.
And when that Beryn in this wife had ymade his
mone
A crepill he faw comyng with grete fpede and
hafte
Oppon a ftilt ondir his knc bound wondir fuft,
And a crouch undir his armys, with hondis al for-
ſkramyd;
Alas! quod this Beryn, fhall I be more examenyd?
And gan to turn afide onto the fee fronde,
And the crippill aftir, and wan oppon hym londe.
Tho began Beryn to drede inwardlich fore,
And thought thus in his hert, fhall I be comberid
more?
And it wer Godd'is wyll my forowe for to ccfe
Methinkith I have inowghe. The cripill began
to preche,
And had yraught nere hond Beryn by the fcleve:
Beryn turuyd as an hare, and gan to ren blyve;
But the cripill knew betir the pathis finale and
grete
Then Beryn, fo to fore hym he was, and gan hym
mete.
I
When Beryn faw it vaylid naught to renne ne të
lepe,
What for dole and anguysfh no word myght he
fpeke,
But ftode fill amafid, and ftarid faft about:
The crepill began to fpeke; Sir, to drede or to
dout
Of me wold ye right light, and ye knew myne
hert,
So where ye like well or ill fro me fhall ye nat
part
Tyl I have tretid with yew, and ye with me alfo,
Of all yeur foden happis, yeur myfcheff, and ycur
wo;
For by the tyme that I have knowlech of yeur
cafe,
Yeur rennyng, and yeur trotting into an efy pas,
I fhall turn or that we twyn, fo ye aftir my ftole
Woll do, and as I rede yew; for yee wer a fole
When ye cam firft alonde, ye had met with me,
For I wold have enfenfid yew all the iniquite
Of thes fals marchauntes that dwellen in this
town,
And outid all your chaffare without gruch er
groun;
For had ye dwellid within yeur fhippis, and nat
go them among,
Then had ye been undaungerid, and quyt of all
their wrong
On yew that been furmyfed through fals fuggef-
tiounc.
Beryn gan to figh, unneth he might foune
Saf o word or tweyn, and Mercy was the firſt,
Preying with all his heft that he myght have his
reft,
And be no more enpledit, but pas fro hym quyte.
Good Sir, quod Beryn, doith me no more dif
pite,
And fuflir me to pas, and have on me routhe,
And I fuyr yew feithfully, have here my trowith,
To morowe when I have pledit, and eny thing
be laft
Of fhip or marchaundife, afore the fhip or baft,
I woll fhew yew ail ifere, and opyn every cheft,
And put it in yewr grace to do what ye left.
And in the icen while that Beryn gan to clapp
The crypill nyghid hym nere and nere, and hent
hym by the lap;
And as fone as Beryn knew that he was in honde
He unlacyd his mantell for drede of fome com-
mand,
And pryvelich ovir his fhuldris let hym down
glide,
And had levir lefe his mantell then abide.
The crepill all perceyvid, and hent hym by the
feleve
Of his nethir furcote. Alas! now mut I ftrive,
Thought Beryn by himſelf, now I am yhent,
There helpith naught fave ftrengith; therwith
the feleve to rent
Beryn gan; to fcappe he fparid for no coſt.
Alas! thought this cripill, this man woll be loft,
And be ondo for evir, but he counfell have ;
Iwis thoughe he be lewde my contremen to fave
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &,
257
it will I my befines do and peyn that I mày,
Sith he is of Room, for that is my contray.
This cripill was an hundrit yere full of age,
With a long thik berd, and a trew vifage
He had; and manly and july was he,
And Geffrey was his name yknow in that contre.
Alas! thought this Geffrey, this man hath grete
drede
Of me, that by my power wold help hym in his
nede :
I wis though he be nyce, untaught and unwife,
I woll nat for his foly leve myne enpryſe;
And lept aftir Beryn, and that in right good
fpede.
Beryn was fo fore agaft he toke no maner hede
To look onys bakward tyll he to the watir cain,
'Then lokid he behynd and faw Sir Clekam
Commaundwondir faft with ftaff and with his ftilt.
Allas! thought Beryn, I now am yfpilt,
For I may no ferthir without I wold me droune,
I n'ote wich were the betir, or go ageyn to toune.
Geffrey was fo nigh com that Beryn myght nat fle :
Good Sir, quod this Geffrey, why do yeè void me?
For by heven quène, that bare Crift in hir barnte,
But right as to my felf I woll yew no more harme.
Sittith down here by me oppon this fee ftronde,
And yf ye drede any thing clepe yewr men to
londe,
And let them be here with us all our fpèche tyme,
For I woll nat feyn oon word, as makers doon to
ryme,
But counfell yew as prudently as God woll fend
me grace:
Take comfort to yew, and herk a litill ſpaſe.
And when that Beryn had yherd his tale to the
end,
And how goodly as Geffrey fpak, as he were his
frende,
None obftant his drede, yet part of fapience
Stremyd into his hert for his eloquence,
And feyd; God me counfaill for his high mercy!
For I have herd this fame dey men as fotilly
Spoke, and of yeur femblant, and in fuch maniere,
And byhete me frendship outward by their chere,
But inward it was contrary their intellectioune,
Wherfor the blame is les, though I fufpectioune
Have of yewr wordis, left othir be yewr entent,
For I n'ote whom to truft by God omnipotent;
Yit nethirles yf your will is to com into the ship
with me
I woll fomwhat do by yeur rede how fo it evir
be.
Then, quod Geffrey, if it be fo that I in yewr
powere
Entir into your fhippis, and yew help in yewr my-
nere,
That ye ageyn yewr adverfaryes fhull have the be-
tir fyde,
And gyve yow fuch counfell to bate down their
pride,
And that yee wynne in every pleŷnt, al fo much
or more
As they purpoſe to have of yew; yf they be down
ybore,
VOL. I
And ye have amendis for their iniquite,
And I yew bring to this end, what ſhall my guer-
don be?
In verrey foth, quod Beryn, yf I ýew may truſt
I woll quyte yew trewly, I make yew beheft.
In feith then, quod Geffrey, I woll with yew
wende.
What is yewṛ name, feid Beryn, though my
frende?
Gefferey, he feid; but in thefe marchis I was nat
bore,
But I have dwellid in this cete yeeris heretofore
Ful many, and turmented wers then wer yee,
And endurid for my trowith much adverfite,
For I wold in no wife fuffir their falfhedes,
For in all the world fo corrupt of their dedis
Been noon men alyve, I myght ryght well avow.
For they fet all their wittis in wrong all that they
mowe;
Wher'for full many a tyme the grettift of them
and I
Have ftonden in altercatioune for their trechery;
For I had in valew in trew marchaundife
A M. I. all have they take in fuch maner wife :
So ferforth to fave my blode no longer myght I
dryve dure;
For drede of wors thus thought I myſelf to disfi-
gure,
And have among them 12 yere go right in this
plighte,
And evir have had in memory how I niyght them
quyte;
And ſo I hope now, as fotill as they be,
With my wit engine them and help yew and
nic.
My lymes been both hole and found, me nedith
ftilt ne crouch.
Hé caft afyde them both, and lepe oppon an huche
And adown ageynes, and walkid to and fro,
Up and down, within the fhip, and ſhewid his
hondis tho,
Stretching forth his fingris in fight and all about
Without knot or knor, or eny fign of goute,
And dyght them efft ageyns right disfetirly,
Som to ride ech othir, and fom aweward wry.
Geffrey was right myghty, and wele his age did
bere,
For natur was more fubftantiall when tho dayis
wer
Then now in our tyme; for all thing doith waſte
Saff vile and curfid lyving, that growith all to faſte.
What fhuld I tell more? But Geffrey fat hym
down,
And Beryn hym befydis; the Romeyns gan to
rown',
And mervelled much in Geffrey of his difgifenes,
And Beryn had anothir thought, and ipak of his
diftres.
Now Geffrey, feid this Beryn, and I durſt truſt in
yewe
That and ye knewe eny man that is alyvé anowe
That had of difcrecioune fo much influence
To make my party good to morowe in my des
fence,
58
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &í.
And delivir me of forowe, as ye behote have,
I wold become his legeman, as God my foule fave..
That wer to much, quod Gefferey; that woll I
yew releſe;
But I defire of othir thing to have yewr promes,
That and I bryng yewr enmyes into fuch a
traunce
To make for yewr wrong is to you right high fe-
naunce,
And fo declare for you that with you pas fuch dome,
That yee oppon your feith bryng me at Rome,
Yf God wolfend yew wedir and grace to repafe.
Quod Beryn, But I grant yew I wer lewder then
an affe,
But or 1 fullich truft yew holdith me excufid;
I woll go counfell with my men left they it re-
fufid.
Beryn drew afyde, and fpak with his meyne,
And expreffid every word in what plight and
degre
'That he ſtode from poýnt to poynt, and of his
fals arcitis:
His meyne were aftonyd, and ftarid forth as beftis.
Spekith fom word, quod Beryn, fith I am betrayd;
Yee have yherd what Geffrey to me hath fayd,
'Thefe Romeyns ftode alle ftill; o word ne cowd
they meve;
And eke it paffid their wittis. Then Beryn gan
releve,
And to Geffrey eft ageyn, and mercy hym be-
fought.
Help me, Sir, quod Beryn, for his love that us
bought
Dying on the rood, and wept full tendirly;
For but ye help, quod Beryn, ther is no remedy,
For comfort nethir counfaill of my men have I
noon :
Help me, as God yew help, and els I am undoon.
When Geffrey faw this Beryn fo diftract and wept,
Pite into eche veyn of his hert crept.
Dout, pro, contra, and ambiguite,
Thorough your declaratioune, and enformyd be;
And with the help of our Soveren Lord celeftiale
They fhall be behynd, and we fhull have the ball,
For now the time approchith for their curfidnes
To be fomwhat rewardit; and caufe of yewr
diftres
Hath my hert yfetlid and fixid them a nye,
As trowith woll and refon, for their trechery:
For many a man tofore this day they have do out
of daw,
Diftroid and turmentid thorough their fals law;
For they think litill ellis, and all their wyttis fyve,
Save to have a mann'ys good and to benym his
lyve;
And hath a curfid cuftom, all ageyns refon,
That what man they empeche they have noon
enchefon
Thoughe it be as falſe a thing as God hymfelf is
trewe:
And it touche a ftraunger that is com of newe
Atte firſt mocioune that he begynneth to meve
Ther ftondith up an hundrit hym to repreve.
The lawes of the cete font in probacy;
They ufen noon enqucftis the wrongis for to try ;
And yf thow haddift cny wrong, and woldiſt
pleyn the,
And were as trewe a caufe as eny myght be,
Thow fhuldift nat find o man to bere the witnes,
Though every man in the town knew it more or
les;
So burith they togidir, and holdith with eche
othir,
That as to counterplede them, though ye wer my
brothir,
I wold gyve yew no counfaill, ne their empeche-
ment,
In no word to deny, for that wer combirment ;
For then wer they in the affirmatyf, and wold
preve anoon,
Allas! quod Geffrey, I might nat do a more fyn- And to yew that wer negatyff the law wold graunt
ful dede,
I leve by my trowith, then fayl yew in this nede;
Faill me God in heven yf that I yew faill!
That I fhall do my befines, my peyn, and my tra-
vaile,
To help yew be my power; I may no ferther goo.
Yis, yee behete me more, feid Beryn, tho,
That yee wold help me at all that I fhuld ftond
Beryn gan to wepe and make wers chere. [cler.
Stillith yew, quod Geffrey, for how fo evir ye
More than my power ye ought nat defire, [tire
For thorough the grace of God ye ſhul be help wele;
I have ther' of no dout; but trewlich I tele
That ye woll hold me covenaunte and I woll yew
alfo,
you
To bryng me at Rome when it is all ydo.
In figne of trowith of both fidis of our acordment
Eche of us kys othir of our comyn affent;
And. all was do. And aftirward Beryn commaun-
dit wyne;
They dronk, and then Geffrey feid; Sir Beryne,
Yee mut declare.yeur maters to myne intelligence,
"That I may the bet perfeyve all inconvenience,
anoon:
So for to plede ageyn them it woll litill availl,
And yit to every mann'ys wit it ought be grete
inervaile,
For their lawes been fo ftreyt, and peynous ordi-
naunce
Is ftallid for their falfhede; for this is their fy-
naunce,
To lefe their lyff for lefing, and Ifope it may
knowe,
That lord is riall of the town, and holdith them
fo lowe,
Wherfor they have a cuſtom a fhrewid for the
nonys,
Yf eny of them fey a thing they cry all at onys,
And ferm it for a foth, and it bere any charge;
Thus of the danger of Ifope they kepe them ever
at large;
And therfor wifdom weer, whofo might efchewe,
Nevir to dele with them; for wer it wrong or
trewe
It fhuld litill availlagev steir falfhedes,
For they been acurfid, and io been their dedes
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &
25
*
Wherfore we muſt, with all our wit fenfibill,
Such anſwers us purvey that they been infolibill,
To morowe at our aparaunce, and fhall be refpon-
faill,
For of wele and ellis it is thy day fynall.
Now Soveren Lord celeftiale! with many forow
ful fighs,
Seyd Beryn to Geffrey, ymmemorat of lyes,
Graunt me grace to morowe, fo that God be
plefid
Make fo myne anfwere, and I fomwhat y-efid
By the that art my counfaill, for othir help is noon.
Reherce me then, quod Geffrey, the caufis of thy
foon
Fro poynt to poynt, al in fere, on the is furmyfid,
Wherthorough I myght to morowe the betir be
ávifid.
Now in foth, quod Beryn, thoughe I fhuld dy
I cannat tell the tenyth part of their trechery,
What for forowe and angir that they to me have
wrought;
So ftond I clene defperat but ye con help ought.
Deperdeux! feid Geffrey, and I the woll not faill,
Sith I have enfurid the to be of thy counfaill;
And fo much the more that thou art nat wife,
And canft nat me enform of no maner aviſe;
Here ther'fore a while, and tend wel to my
lore.
'The lord that dwellith in this town, whofe name
I told tofore,
Ifope, efft rcherfid, is fo iniy wife
pas devife,
That no man alyve can his
And is fo grow in yeris that LX yeer ago
He fawe nat for age; and yit it ftondith fo
That thorough his wit, and wiſdom, and his go-
vernaunce,
Who makith a fray ef, or ftryvith aught, or mel
to much or praunce,
Within the fame cete, that he n'ys take anoon,
And hath his pennaunce forthwith, for pardon
ufith he noon :
For ther n'ys pore ne riche, ne what ſtate he be,
That he ny's undirfote for his iniquite;
|
As ye fhul here aftir er that I depart,
Of his imaginaciouns and of his fotill art;
For he is of age 300 yere and more,
Wherfor of all fciences he hath the more lore,
In Denmark he was gotten and ybore alfo,
And in Grece ynorifhed tyl he coud ſpek and go;
Ther was he put to fcole, and lernyd wondir faſt,
For fuch was his grace that all othir he paſt :
But firft in his begynnyng litil good he had,
But lernyd evir paffyngly, and was wife and fad :
Of ftature and of feture ther was noon hym like
Thorough the lond of Grece though men wold
hym feke.
A kyng ther was in tho yeris that had noon heir
male
Saff a doughter, that he lovid as his own faal;
Ifope was his fervaunt, and did hym fuch ple
faunce
That he made hym his heir, and did hym ſo
avaunce
To wed his doughter, and aftir hym to bere
crowne,
Thorough prowes and his port fo low he was and
..boun;
So as Fortune wold, that was Ifop'is frend,
This worthy king that fame yere made his carnel
end.
That twenty-feven yere is paffid that Ifope thus
hath reigned,
And yit was ther nevir for wrong on hym come
pleyned
For no jugement that he gaff; yit fom ageyn hym
wylid
A grete part of his pepil, and wold have hym
exilid;
But his grete wiſdom, and his manfulnes,
His governaunce, with his bounte and his right-
fulnes,
Hath evir yit preferved hym unto this ilk day,
And woll whyle that he lyvith for aught that men
can fay :
For who hath eny quarrel or cauſe for to wonde
And it be previd on hym ther fhall no gold hym Within this fame cete, quicklich woll he fond,
quyte,
Right as the forfete axith moch or lite,
For geyns his commaundment is noon fo hardy
quek,
So hard fetith he his fote in every mann's nek;
For undir fky and ſterris this day is noon alyve
That coud amend hym in o poynt, al thing to di-
ftryve.
The feven Sages of Rome, though al ageyn hym
were,
The fhuld be infufficient to make his anfwere,
For he can all langagis, Greek, Hebrew, and
Latyne,
Caldey, Frensfh, and Lombard, ye know wellfyne,
And al maner that men in bokis write;
In poyfe and philofophie alſo he can endite
Cevile and canoune, and al maner lawis,
Seneca and Sydrak, and Salamon'ys fawys,
And the feven ſciences, and eke lawe of armys,
Experimentis and pomprey, and all maner char-
mys,
And it be fotill matir, to Ifope for to fare,
For gynnyng to the end his quarrell to declare;
And eve afore, as cuſtom is, peple ſhall be on the
morowe;
But whofo ly he fcapith nat wythout ſhame or fo-
rowe.
Beryn, thou must go thidir, wher thyn empeche-
ment
Shull be ymevid, and therfor pas nat thens
Tyll thou have herd them alle, and report them
wele
t...
To me, that am thy counfell, and repeir fnele.
But fo rial mancioune as Ifope dwellith in
Ther is noon in the world, ne fo queynt of gyn,
Wherfore be well avifid how I enform the
Of the wondir wayis and of the pryvyte
That been wythyn his paleyfe, that thou muſt pas
-by:
And when thow approchift, and art the caſtel
nygh,
Rij
260
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, %.
૪.
Blench fro the brode gate, and enter thow nat
there,
For ther been men to keep it; yit have thow no
fere;
Pas down on the right hond by the caftell walle
Tyll thow fynd a window, and what fo the by-
fall
Entir ther yf thow may, and be nothyng agaſt,
But walk forth in that entre: then fhalt thow fee
in hafte
A portsolyfe the tofore; pas in boldly
Tyll thow com to an hall the feyrift undir fky:
The wallis been of marbill, yjoynid and yclofid,
And the pilours of cryftall, grete and wele pro-
pofid:
The keveryng of bove is of felondyn,
And the pament beneth of gold and afure fyne.
But whofo paffith thorough this hall hath nede to
ren blyve,
Or els he myght be difware of his own lyve,
For ther wythin liith a foon that is fo hote of
kynd
That what thing com for by anoon it woll atend,
As bryght as eny kandell leem, and confume
anoon
And fo wold the hall alfo n'er coldnes of a toon
That is yclepid Dionyfe, that fet is hym ageyn;
So and thow lepe lightly thou fhalt have no peyn,
For ethir ftone in kynd proportioned they be,
Of hete and eke of coldnes of oon equalite.
Thow mu pas thorough the hall, but tary nat 1
rede,
I
For thou fault fynd a dur up right afore thyn
hede:
When thow'art entrid ther, and the dore apaft,
Whatfo thow fe ligg or ftond be thow nat agaft;
And yf thow drede eny thing de no more faff
blowe,
But yit I rede the beware that it be fomwhat
lowe:
Ther been to libardis loos and untyed,
If that thy blowing of that othir in eny thing be
fpied
Anoon he rakith on the to fefe the by thy pate,
For ther n'ys thing in erth that he fo much doth
hate,
In mydward of this gardyn ftant a feir tre
Of al maner levis that undir ſky be,
Yforgit and yfourmit eche in his degre
Of fylvir and of gold fyre that lufty been to fee,
This gardeyn is evir grene, and full of May
flowris,
Of rede, white, and blew, and othir fresh co-
louris,
The wich been fo redolent, and fentyn fo about,
That he muſt be right lewde therin fhuld route.
Thefe monftrefull thingis I deviſe to the
Becaufe thow fhuldift nat of them abashid be.
When that thow comyft there, fo thow be ftrong
in thought,
And do be my counfell, drede the right nought,
For ther beth eight tregetours that this gardyn
kepith,
Four of them doith waak whils the four fclepith,
The wich been fo perfite of nygramance,
And of the art of apparene and of tragetrie,
That they make femen as to a mann'ys fight
Abontinabill wormys, that fore cught be afright
The hertieft man on erth, but he warnyd were
Of the grifly fightis that he fhuld fee there.
Among all othir there is a lyon white
That and he be a ftraungir he rampith for to bite,
And hath tofore this tyme 500 men and mo
Devourid and yete, that thereforth have ygo:
Yit fhalt thow pas fuyrly fo thow do as I tell.
The tre I told tofore, that round as eny bell
Berith bow and braunche, traylyng to the ground,
And thow touch oon of them thow art faff and
found;
The tre hath fuch vertu there fhall nothing the
dere:
Loke that be the first when thow comy ft there.
Then fhalt thow fe an entre by the ferther fide
Thoughe it be ftreyte tofore, inner large and wyde
It growith more and more, and as a dentour
wryith;
Yit woll that wey the brying there that Ifope
liith,
Into the feyrist chambir that evir man faw with
cye,
When thow art there wythyn govern the wifely,
For there shalt thow here al thyn empechement
As breth of mann'ys mowith; wher'fore refreyn Opynly declarid in Ifop'is prefent.
thee,
And blow but fair and foft, and when that nede be.
When thow art paffid this hall anoon then fhalt
thow com
Into the fayret garden that is in Chriftendom,
The wich thorough his clergy is made of fuch
devife
That a man fhall ween he is in Paradife,
At his firft comyng in, før melody and fong,
And othir glorious thinges and delectabill among,
The wich Tholomeus, that fomtyme Paynym was,
That of aftronomy knew ev'ry poynt and cafe,
Did it fo devife, thorough his high connyng,
That ther n'ys beft in erth ne bird that doith fing
That he n'ys there in figur in gold and fylvir fyne,
And mow, as they wer quyk, knawe, the fotill
engyne.
Report them wele and kepe them in thy mynd,
And aftir thy relacioune we fhall fo turn and
wend,
Thorough help of God above, fuch help for to
make
That they fhull be acombrit, and we right well to
fcape.
Now in foth, quod Beryn, a mann'ys hert may
grife
Of fuch wondir weyis, for al my marchandise
I had levir lefe them oppon me take
Such a wey to pas. Then, Sir, for your fake
I woll my felf, quod Geffrey : fith I am enfuryd
To help the with my power thow fhalt me amy-
rid
As ferforth as I may; that I woll do my peyn
To bryng yow plefaunt tyding, and retourn ageyn
i
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE,
.
46:
7
For and yee wex hevy what ſhall yewr men do
But take enfampili of yew? and have no cauſe to;
For yit or it be eve yewr adverfaryes all
I fhall make them fpurn and have a ſore fall,
And yee go quyte, and all yewr good, and have
of theirs too,
Vit or the cok crow; and ther'for let me fe
Whils I am out how mery ye can be.
Geffrey toke his leve; but who was fory tho
But Beryn and his company? for when he was go
Thei had no maner joy, but dout and hevynes,
For of his repeyryng thei had no fikernes;
So every man to othir made his compleynt,
And wifhid that of felony they had been atteynt,
And fo them thought betir to end hevynes
Then every day to lak brede atte firſt mes;
For when our good is go what ſhall fal of us
Evir to be their thrallis, and peraventure wers,
To left our lyf aftir yf we difpleſe them ought.
Aftir Geffrey went this was all their thought
Throughout the nyght tyl cokkis gan to fing;
But then encrefid anguishe; their hondis gan to
wryng,
And curfid wynd and watir that them brought
ther,
And wisfhid many tymes that he had been in
bere,
And were apaflid and entrid into difpeyr,
In as much as Ceffrey did nat repeir:
Eche man feyd to othir it myght nat be ynayid
But Geffrey had uttirlich fa.fly them betrayid
Thoroughout all the long nyght.
Tho went they to counfell a litill tofore the day,
And were all acordit for to fayl awey;
And ſo them thought betir, and leve their good
ther,
Then abyde theroppon, and have more fere.
They made their takelyng redy, and wend the
fail acros,
For to fave their lyvis, and ſet nat of their los;
So fore they wer adred to be in fervitute,
And hopid God above wold fend them fom refute
By fom othir coftis ther wynd them wold bryng:
And therwithall cam Geffrey on his ftilt lepeing,
And cried wondir faft by the watir fyde.
When Beryn herd Geffrey he bid his men abyde,
And to launch out a bote and bryng Geffrey in,
For he may more avayl me now then al my kyn,
And he be trew and truſty, as myn hope is;
But yit ther'of had Beryn no full fikernes.
Thefe Romeyns fet in Geffrey with an hevy
chere,
For they had levir faill forth then put them in
weer
Both lyve and goodis: and evill fufpicioune
They had of this Geffrey; wherfore they gon
roune,
Talkyng to eche othir, This man woll us betray.
Geffrey wift well inowghe he was nat to their
pay,
And for verry angir he threw into the fee
Both filt and eke his crouch, that made wer of
tre,
And gan them to comfort, and feid in this ma-
nere :
Lenedicite! Boryn, why make ye fuch chere?
And they to be right feign for to ſcape fo
Wythout more daungir, and yewr wyl be;
For of the lawys her fuch is the equyte
That Who purfu ethir and bis pleynt be wrong
Hefball make amendis be be neoir fo firong;
Right as fhuld the t'odir yf he condempned were
Right fo fhall the pleyntiff right as I yew lere:
And that fhall preve by them, have ye no doute,
Yet or it be eve right low to yew to loute,
And ſubmit them to yew, and put them in yewr
grace
By that tyme I have made all my wanlafe;
And in hope to fpede wel let fhape us for to dyne,
Geffrey axid watir, and fith brede aud wyne,
And feit, It is holfom to breke our faft betyrae,
For the ſteward woll to the court at hour of pryme.
The fonne gan to fhyne and hope a feir dey;
But for aught that Geffrey coud do or fey
Theſe Romeyns ſpekyn faft all the dyner while,
That Geffrey with his fotill wordis wold them
begile.
So when they had ydyned they ryfen up cchoone,
And drew them to counfell what was beit todcon:
Som feyd the beft rede that we do may,
To throw Geffrey ovir the bord, and feyll forth
our way:
But for drede of Beryn fom wold nat fo,
Yit the more party affentid wele therto.
Geffrey and Beryn, and worthy Romeyns tweyn,
Stood a part within the fhip, fo Geffrey gan tɔ
feyn,
Beryn, beth avifid; your men beth in diftaunce :
Sith ye been her foveren put them in governance;
For methinkith they boldith contrary opуnyoune,
And Grace faylith camynlich wher is dirvifioune,
In the meen whyle that they gan thus to fryve
Hanybald was up, and ycom as blyve
To the brigg of the town ther the hippis rood,
And herd much noyfe; but litil while he bood,
For when he faw the faylis ftond all acres,
Alas! quod this Hanybald, here growith a fmer:
los
To me that am provoft, and have in charge and
heit
All thefe fyve fhippis undir myn areſt:
And ran into the town, and made an hidoufe cry,
And chargit all the cetezins to armys for to hy
From ofrete tyl anothir, and rerid up al the town,
And made the trompis blowe up and the bellis
foun,
And fey that the Romeyns wer in poynt to pas,
Tyl ther wer a thoufand, rathir mo then les,
Men y-armyd cleen, walkyng to the ftronde
When Beryn them afpied: Now, Geffrey, in thy
honde
Stont lyf and goodis; doth with us what the lift
For all our hope is on the, comfort, help, and triit;
R iij
262
SECOND TALE, U..
THE MERCHANT'S
For we must bide aventure, fuch as God wol
fhape,
For now I am in certen we mow in no wife fcape.
Have no doubt, quod Geffrey,beth mery; let me
aloon;
Getith a peir fifours, fherith my berd anoon,
And aftirwerd lete top my hede haftylich and
blyvc.
Som went to with fefours, fom wyth a knyffe,
So what for forowe and haft, and for lewd tole,
Ther was no man alyve bet like to a fole
Then Geffrey was by that tyme they had al ydo.
Hanybald clepid out Beryn, to Mote Hall for to go,
And flode upon the brigg with an huge route.
Geffrey was the first to Hanybald gan to loute
And lokid out a fore fhip: God bles yew! Sir,
quod he.
:
Wher art thow now, Beryn? com forth, behold
Her is an huge pepill yrayd and ydight; [and ſe,
All theſe been my children that been in armys
Yiirdey I gat them is nat mervaill, [bryght;
That they been hidir ycom to be of our counfaill,
And to ftond up by us, and help us in our ple?
A! myne own childryn, bleffid mut ye be!
Quod Geffrey, with an high voife, and had a nyce
vifage,
And gan to daunce for joy in the fore ftage.
Hanybald lok'd on Geffrey as he wer amafid,
And beheld his countenaunce, and how he was
yrafid,
But evirmore he thought that he was a fole
Naturell of kynde, and had noon othir tool,
As femed by his wordis and his vifage both,
And thought it had been foly to wex with hym
wroth,
And gan to bord ageyn, and axid hym in game,
Sith thou art our fadir who is then our dame?
And how and in what plafe were we begete?
Yiftirday, quod Geffrey, pleyng in the ftrete
At a gentil game that clepid is the Quek,
A long peny halter was caft about my nek,
And yknet faft with a riding knot,
And caft over a perch, and hale along my throte.
Was that a game, quod Hanybald, for to hang thy
felve?
So they feyd about me, a thouſand eche by hymfelf.
How fcapiddift thow, quod Hanybald, that thou
wer nat dede?
Therto can I anfwer without any rede;
I bare thre dife in myn own purs,
For I go nevir without, fare I betir or wers;
I kift them forth all thre, and too fill am'ys,
But here now what fill aftir, right a merveloufe
cafe;
Ther cama mowfe lep forth, and ete the third boon,
That puffid out her fkyn as grete as fhe myght goon;
And in this maner wife of the mowfe and me
All ye be ycom my children fair and fre;
And yit or it be eve fall woll fuch a chaunce
To ftond in my power yew all to avaunce,
For and we plede well to day we fhall be riche
inowghc.
Hanybald of his wordis hertlich loughe,
3
And fo did all that herd hym, as they myght wele,
And had grete joy wyth hym for to tell,
For they knew hym noon othir but a fole of kynd
And all this was his difcrecioune, and that previd
the end,
Thus whils Geffrey japid to make their hertis
light
Beryn and his company were rayid and ydıght,
And londid them in botis, ferefull how to ſpede,
For all their thoughtis in balance ftode betwene
hope and drede :
But yet they did their peyn to make lightfome
chere,
As Geffrey them had enfourmed, of port and all
manere
Of their governaunce all the long day [wey
Tyll their plee wer endit; fo went they forth their
To the court with Hanybald. Then Beryn gan to
fey,
What nedith this, Sir Hanybald, to make fuch aray
Sith we been pefe-marchantis, and uſe no fpolia-
cioune ?
For foth, Sir, quod Hanybald, to me was made
relacioune
Yee wer in poynt to void; and yef ye had do fo
Yee had loft yewr lyvis, without wordis mo.
Beryn held hym ftyll. Geffrey ſpak anoon;
No les wed them lyvis? Whi fo, good Sir Jon?
That wer fomwhat to much as it femeth me;
But ye be ovirwife that dwell in this cete;
For ye have begonne a thing makith you right bold
And yit or it be eve as folis fhull yee be hold:
And eke ye devyne for fhipmanny's craft,
And wotith litill what longith to afore the ſhip
aud bafft,
And namelich in the dawnyng when ſhipmen firſt
arife,
My good frend, quod Hanybald, in a fcornyng
wife,
Yee muft onys enfourm me thorough yowr dif
crecioune,
But firſt yee muft anfwer to a queftioune;
Why make men crof-fail in nyddis of the maſt?
For to talor the ship and fech more blaſt,
Why goon the yemen to bote ankirs to hale?
For to make them redy to walk to the ale.
Why hale they up ftonys by the crane lyne?
To make the tempest fefe and the fonne fhyne.
Why cloſe they the port with the fee bord?
For the maftir fould awake at first word.
Thou art a redy reve, quod Hanybald, in fay.
Yee, Sir, trewly, for fothe is that ye yew fey;
Geffrey evir clappid as doith a watir myll,
And made Hanybald to laugh al his hert fyll.
Beryn, quod this Geffrey, retourn thy men ageyn;
What fhull they do with the at court? no man on
them pleyn,
Plede thy cafe thy felve right as thow haft
ywrought;
To bide with the fhippis my purpoſe is and thought.
Nay, forfoth, quod Hanybald, thow fhalt abyde
on lond,
Wec have no folis but the; and toke hym by the
hond,
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &c.
263
3
Forthow art wife in law to plede all the caſe.
That can I betir, quod Geffrey, then eny man in
this plafe..
What ſeyſt thow therto, Beryn? fhall I tell thy
tale?
Hany bald likid his wordis wele, and forward gan
hym hale.
Beryn made him angry, and fighid wondir fore,
For Geffrey hym had enfourmid of every poynt to
fore,
How he hym fhuld govern all the long day.
Geffrey chafid hym ageyn; Sey me ye or nay;
Mayit'owe nat here ſpeke fome maner word?
Leve thy blab, lewd fole, me likith nat thy bord:
I have anothir thought, quod Beryn, wherof thow
carift lite.
Clepeift thow me a Fole, quod Geffrey? al that
I may the wite :
But firſt when we out of Rome faillid both in fere
Tho I was thy felawe and thy partinere,
For tho the marchandife was more then half myne,
And fith that thow com hidir thow takiſt all for
thyne.
But yit or it be eve I wol make oon beheſt,
But thow have my help thy part ſhall be left.
Thyn help, quod Beryn; lewde fole, thow art
more then mafid;
Dres the to the fhippis ward with thy crown
yrafid,
For I myght nevir ſpare the bet: trus and beagoo.
I woll go with the, quod Geffrey, wher thow wolt
or no,
And lern to plede law to wyn both howſe and lond.
So thow fhalt, quod Hapybald, and led hym by
the hond,
And leyd his hond oppon his nek: but and he
had yknow
Whom he had led, in fikernes he had well levir in
Inowe
Have walkid XL myle, and rathir then fail more;
For he wisſhid that Geffrey had ybe unbore
Full oft tyme in that day or the ple wer do,
And ſo did all that wrought Beryn ſham and woo.
Now yee that lift abide and here of fotilte
Mowe know how that Beryn fped in his ple,
And in what aray to the court he went,
And how Hanybald led Geffrey, difware of his
entent;
But yet he axid of Geffrey, What is thy name
I pray?
Gylhochet, quod Geffrey, men clepid me yiftirday.
And wherweer thow ybore? I n'ote I make a vow,
Seyd Geffrey to this Hanybald, I axe that of yew,
For I can tell no more but here I ftond nowe.
Hanybald of his wordis hertlich lowghe,
And held hym for a paffyng fole to ferve eny lord,
Thus they romyd janglyng into the court ward,
But or they com ther the fteward was yfet,
And the grettiſt of the town a company ymet,
And gon to ftryve faft who fhuld have the good
That com was with Beryn ovir the falt flood.
Som feyd oon and fom feyde anothir;
Som wold have the fhippis, the parell, and the
rothir;
Som his eyen, fom his lyf wold have, and no les,
Or els he fhuld for them fyne or he did pas;
And in the mene whils they wer in this afray
Beryn and theſe Romeyns wer com, in good aray
As myght be made of woll, and of colour graynyd;
They toke a fyde bench that for them was or-
deynyd.
When all was huht and ftill Beryn aroſe anoon,
And ftode in the myddis of the hall tofore them
everichone,
And feyd, Sir Steward, in me fhall be no let;
I am ycom to anſwer as my day is ſet :
Do me ryght and refon; I axe yew no more.
So fhall I, quod the fteward, for ther'to I am
fwore.
He ſhall have right, quod Geffrey, wher thow
wolt or no,
For and thow mys onys thy jugement onde.
I woll to the Emperour of Rome my cofyn,
For of o cup he and I full oft have dronk the wyne,
And yit we full heraftir as oft as we mete,
For he is long the gladder when I ſend hym to grete.
This Geffrey ſtode upon a fourm, for he wold be ſey
Above all othir the fhouldris and the cry,
And ftarid al about with his lewd berd,
And was yhold a very fole of ech man hym herd.
The ſteward, and the officers, and the burgeyfis
all,
Laughid at hym hertlich; the criour gan to call
The burgeyfe that had pleyd with Beryn at ches,
And he arofe quik. :h, and gan hym for to dres
Afore the ſteward at barr, as the maner is;
He gan to tell his tale wyth grete redines:
Here me, Sir Steward, this day is me fet
To have right and refon; I axe yew no bet,
Of Beryn that here ftondith, that with me yiftirday
Made a certen covenaunt, and at ches we did pley,
That whofo were ymatid of us both too
Shuld do the todir's bidding, and yf he wold nat fo
He must drink all the watir that falt wer in the fe:
Thus I to hym furid and he alſo to me.
To preve my tale trew I am nat all aloon :
Up rofe ten burgeyfis quyklich anoon,
And affermyd eviry word of his tale foth,
And made them all redy for to do their othe.
Evander the ſteward, Bery, now, quod he,
Thow moſt anfwere nede; it woll noon othir be:
Take thy counfell to the ſpede on; I have doon,
Beryn held hym ftyll: Geffrey, ſpak anoon;
Now be my trowith, quod Geffrey, I mervell much
of yew
:
To bid us go to counfell, and knowith me wiſe
inowghe,
And evir ful avifid, in twynkelyng of an eye,
To make a ſhort anfwer but yf my mowith be dry.
Shuld we go to counfell for o word or tweyn?
Be my trowith we n'yll; let fe mo that pleyn;
And but he be yanſwer'd, and that right anoon,
I geve yew leve to rife and walk out every choon,
And aſpyd redily yf ye fynd me there,
In the meen whils I woll abyde here;
Nay, I tell trewly, I am wifer than ye ween,
For ther n'yis noon of you woot redely what I
meen.
Riiij
264
THE MERCHANTS SECOND TALE, &%
Every man gan laughe all his hert fill
Of Geffrey and his wordis; but Beryn held hyna
And was cleen aftonyd; but yit ner the lattir [fill,
He held it nat al foly that Geffrey did clattir,
But wifely hym governyd, as Geffrey hym taught.
For percell of his wifdom he had tofore fmaught.
Sir Steward, quod Beryn, I undirftound wele
The tale of this burgeyfe; now let anothir tell,
That I may take counfell and anfwer all at onys,
I graunt, quod the ſteward; then axing for the
nonys,
Sith thow wold be rewlid by the fol'is rede,
For he is right a wife man to help the in thy node.
Up ares the accufours queyntlich anoon;
Hanybald was the firft of them everichoon,
And gan to tell his tale with a proud chere.
Yiſtirda, Soverens, when I was here
Beryu and thes burgeyfe gon to plede faft
For pleying at ches; fo ferforth at laft,
Thorough vertu of myn office, that I had in charge
Beryn's fyve fhippis, for to go at large,
And to be in anfwer her this fame day;
And take them me ageyn, as our coveṇaunt was
Beryn, I take no reward of othir mennys cafe,
But oonlich of myn oon; that ftont me molt an
hond.
Now bleflid be God in heven that brought the to
this lond!
For fith our laft parting many betir teris
Have I lete for thy love, that fom tyme partineria
Of wynnnyg and of lefing were yeris fele,
And evir I fond the trewe, tyl at the la thow
didft fele
Awey wyth my too eyen that I toke to the
To fe the tregetours, pley and their fotilte,
As yiftirday here in this fame plafe
Tofore yew, Sir Steward, reherfid as it was.
Full trew is that byword, A man to fervefabill
Ledith oft Beyard from his own flabill.
Beryn, by the I meen, though thow make it
ftraunge,
For thow knowift trewly that I made no chaunge
Of my good eyen for thyn that badder were.
Therwith ftode up burgeyfe four witnes to bere.
So walkyng to the ftrondward we bargeynyd by Beryn held hym ftyll, and Geffrey ſpak anoon;
the wey
That I fhuld have the marchandiſe that Beryn
with hym brought,
Now of thy lewd compleynt, and thy mafid
moon,
By my trowith, quod Geffrey, I have grote mar-
vaill,
For though thow haddift eyen-fight it fhuld litill
availe;
Thow fhuldiſt nevir fare the bet, but the wors,
in fay,
For al thing may be ftill now for the in houfe and
way,
Wherof I am fefid, as ful fold and bought,
In covenaunte that I fhuld his fhippis fill ageyn
Of my marchandife, fuch as he tofore had feyn
n myn own plafe, howlis to. or thre,
Full of marchandiſe as they m、 ht be;
And I am eyir redy, whenfoever he woll,
Let hym go or fende, and charge his fhippis full
Of fuch marchandife as he findith there,
For in fuch wordis we acordit were.
Up rofe x burgeyfis, not tho that rofe tofore,
But othir, and made them redy to have fwore
That every word of Hanybald, from the begyn-To
nyng to the end,
Was foth and eke trewe, and with their mende
Full preft they wer to preve; and feyd they wer
prefent
At covenaunt making, by God omnipotent.
It fhal nat nede, quod Geffrey, whils that I here.
ftond,
For I woll preve it my felf with my right honde,
For I have been in four batellis heretofore,
And this fhall be the fift, and therfor I am fwore.
Beholdith, and feith, and turnyd hym about;
The fteward and the burgeyfe gamyd all about;
The Romeyns held them ftill, and lawhghid but
a lite.
Wyth that cam the blynd man his tale to endite,
That God hymn grant wynnyng right as he hath
afervid.
Beryn and his company food all aftryvyd
Betwene hope and drede, right in high diftres,
For of wele or of woo they had no fikernes.
Beryn, quod this blynd, thoughe I may nat ſee
Stond nere yit the barr, my comyng is for the,
That wrongfullich thow witholdift my both to
eyen,
The wich I toke the for a tyme, and quyklich to
me hijen,
And yf thow haddift thyn cyen thou woldift no
counfell hele;
I know wele by thy fifnamy thy kynd wer to ftele:
And eke it is thy profite and thyn efe alſo
be blynd as thow art; for now wherfo thow
go
Thow haft thy lyvlode whils thow art alyve,
And yf thow myghtift fe thow fhuldift nevir
thryve.
Al the houfe throughout fave Beryn and his feris
Lawghid of Geffrey, that watir on their levis
Ran down from their eyen for his mafid wit.
Wythat cam the woman, hir tung was nat fclyt,
Wyth 15 burgeyfis, and women àlfo fele,
Her quarcl for to preve, and Beryn to apele,
With a feir knave child yloke wythin their armys,
And gan to tel her tale of wrongis and of harmys,
And cke of unkyndnes, untrowith, and falfhede,
That Beryn had ywrought to hir, that quyntlich
from hir yede
Anoon oppon her wedding, when he his wyl had
doon,
And brought hir wyth chyld, and lete hir fit
aloon
Wythout help and comfort from that day, and
nowith
He proferid me nat to kys onys with his mowith,.
As yiftirday, Sir Steward, afore yew eche word
Was rcherfid here, my pleynt is of record,
And this dey is me fet for to have refon.
Let hym make amendis, or els tell enchefon
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &Ut265
.
.
!
Why hymn ought nat fynd, as man ought, his wyf. | All that evir he feyd, and toke it for good game,
Thele fiftene burgeyfis quyklich al ſo blyve, And had full litill knowlech he was Geffrey the
lame.
And as fele wymen as ftode by hir ther,
Seyd that they were prefent when they weddit
were,
And that every word that the woman feyde
Was trew, and eke Beryn had hir ſe betray'd.
Benedicite! quod Geffrey, Beryn, haft thow a
wyf?
Now have God my trowith the dayis of my lyf
I fhal truſt the the les thow teldiſt me nat to fore
As wele of thy wedding and of thy fone ybore.
Go to, and kys them both, thy wyf and ekc thyn
heir:
Be thow nat afhamyd, for they both be feyr.
This wedding was right privy, but I fhall make it
couthe:
Behold thy fone, it femith crope out of thy
mowith,
And eke of thy condicioune both foft and fomc.
Now am I glad thyn heir fhall with us to Rome,
And I shall teche hym, as I can, whils that he is
young,
Every day by the ftrete to gadir houndis dang
Tyll it be abill of preutyfe to craft of Taverner
taury
And aftir I fhall teche hym for to catche a fly,
And to mend mytens when they been to tore,
And aftir to cloute fhoun whan he is elder more;
Vit for his parentyne to pipe as doith a mowſe
I woll hym teche, and for to pike a fnayl out of
his howfe,
And to berk as doith an hound, and fey Baw,
baw,
And turn round about as a cat doith wyth a
ftraw,
And to blete as doith a fhepe, and ney as doith an
hors,
And to low as doith a cow; and as myn own
corps
I woll cherish hym every day for his modirs
fake :
And gan to ftappe ner the child, to have ytake,
As femed by his countenaunce, although he
thought nat fo:
But modir was evir ware, and blenchid to and
fro,
And leyd hir hond betwene, and lokid fomwhat
wroth,
And Geffrey in pur wrath befhrewid them all
both;
For by my trowith, quod Geffrey, wel mafid is thy
pan,
For I woll teche thy fone the craftis that I can,
That he in tyme to come inyght win his lyv-
lode,
To wex therfor angry thow art verry wood.
Of husbond, wyff, and fone, by the Trynyte
I n'ote wich is the wifeft of them all thre.
No, fothly, quod the fteward; it liith all in thy
noll
Both wit and wyfdom, and previth by thy poll:
For all be that Geffrey wordit fotilly,
The fteward and the burgeyfis held it for foly
Beryn and his company ftode ftill as ftone
Betwene hope and drede, difware how it fhuld
gaon,
Saff Beryn trift in party that Geffrey wold hym
help,
But yit into that hour he had no cauſe to yelp;
Wherfor they made much forowe, that dole was
and pete.
Geffrey herd hym figh fore: What devil is yew?
quod he:
What nede yew be fory whils I ftond here?
Have I nat enfourmid yew how and in what ma
nere
That I yew wold help, and bryng them in the
fnare?
Yf ye coud plede as well as I, full litill wold ye
care.
Pluk up thy hert, quod Geffrey, Beryn, I fpeke tø
the.
Leve thy blab lewd, quod Beryn to hym age;
It doith no thing availl that forowe com on thy
hede;
It is nat worth a fly al that thow haſt ſeyde.
Have we nat els now for to think oppon
Saff here to jangill? Machyn roſe anoon,
And went to the barr, and gan to tell his tale;
He was as fals as Judas, that ſet Crifte at falę.
Sir Steward, quod this Machyn, and the burgey-
fis al,
Knowith wele how Melan with purpill and with
pall,
And othir marchandiſe, feven yere ago
Went toward Rome, and how that I alfo
Have enquered fith, as refon woll and kynde,
Sith he was my fadir, to know of his ende;
For yit fith his departing tyl it was yiftirday
Met I nevir creature that me coud wisſh or fay
Reedynes of my fadir, dede othir alyve;
Eut, bleffid be God in heven! in this thev'is
fclyve
The knyff I gaff my fadir was yiftirday yfound:
Sith I hym apele let hym be faft ybound.
The knyf I know wel inowe; alfo the man ftont
here,
And dwellith in this town, and is a cotelere,
That made the fame knyf wyth his too hondis,
That wele I woot there is noon like to fèch al
Criften londis;
For three precioufe ftonys been wythin the haft
Perfectlich ycouchit, and fotillich by craft
Endendit in the haft, and that right coriouſly,
A faphir, and a falidone, and a rich ruby.
The cotelere cam lepeing forth with a bold chere
And feyd to the fteward that Machyn told now
here
Every word is trew, ſo beth the ftonys fet ;
I made the knyf my felf, who myght know it
bet?
And toke the knyff to Machyn, and he me pay'd
wele;
So is this felon gilty; there is no more to tell.
266
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, U.
شریح
Up aroſe burgeyfis by two by three by four,
And fey'd they wer prefent the fame tyme and
hour
When Machyn wept fore, and brought his fadir's
gownd,
And gaf hym the fame knyff oppon the fee ftrond.
Beth ther eny mo pleyntifs of record?
Quod Geffrey to the fteward: and he ageyn-
ward;
How femeth the, Gylhochet, beth ther nat
inowghè?
Make thyn anſwer, Beryn, cafe that thow mowe,
For oon or othir thow muft fey, although it nat
availle,
And but thow lefe or thow go methinkith grete
mervaill.
Beryn goith to counſell and his company,
And Geffrey bode behinde to her more and ſe,
And to ſhew the burgeyfe fomewhat of his hert;
And feyd, But I make the pleyntifs for to fmert,
And alle that them meyntenith, for aught that is
yfeyd,
I woll grant yew to kut the eris fro my hede.
My mafter is at counfell, but counfell hath he
noon
For but I hym help he is cleen undoon;
But I woll help hym al that I can, and meyntene
hym alfo
By my power and connyng, fo I am bound ther'to;
For I durft wage battell wyth yew, though yee be
ſtrong,
That my maifter is in the trowith and ye be in
the wrong;
For and we have lawe I ne hold yew but diftroied
In yewr own falfhede, ſo be yee now aſpied;
Wherfor yit or eve I fhal abate yewr pride,
That fom of yew fhall be right feyn to flynk away
and hide.
The burgeyfes gon to lawgh, and ſcornyd hym
ther'to.
Gylhochet, quod Evander, and thow cowdift fo
Bryng it thus about, it were a redy wey.
He is a good fool, quod Hanybald, in fay,
To put hymſelf aloon in ſtrengith and eke in wit
Ageyns all the burgeyfis that on this bench fit.
What clatir is this, quod Machyn, al day with a
fole?
Tyme is now to worch with fom othir tole,
For I am certeyn of their anfwer that they wol fail,
And lyf for lyf of my fadir what may that avail?
Wher'for beth avifid, for I am in no doute
The goodis been fufficient to part al aboute,
So may every party pleyntif have his part.
That is refon, quod the blind; a trew man thow
art;
And eke it were untrowith and eke grete fyn
But eche of us that pleynith myght fomwhat wyn,
Hanybald bote his lippis, and herd them both
wele;
Towching the marchandiſe o tale I fhall yew tell,
And eke make a vow, and hold my beheft,
That of the marchandiſe yewr part fhall be left;
For I have made a bargeyn that may nat be undo;
I woll hold his covenaunt and he fhal myn alfo.
Up roos quicklich the burgeyfe Syrophanes;
Hanybald, quod he, the law goith by no lanys,
But hold ferth the ftreyt wey, even as doith a lyne;
For yiftirday when Beryn with me did dyne/
I was the firſt perſon that put him in areft;
And for he wold go large thow haddift in charge
and heft
To fefe both fhip and goodis til I were anſwerid;
Then must I firſt be fervid, this knowith al men
ylerid.
The woman ftode befidis, and cried wondir faſt,
Ful foth is that by word, To pot who comyth last
He worst is fervid: and fo it farith by me:
Yit nethirles, Sir Steward, I truft to yewr lente,
That knowith beſt my cauſe and my trew entent;
I axe yew no more but rightful jugèment :
Let me have part with othir fith he my huſbond is:
Good Sir, beth avifid; I axe yew nat amys.
Thus they gon to ftryve, and wer of high modc
For to depart emong them othir mennys good,
Wher they tofore had nevir properte,
Ne nevir fhuld theraftir by doom of cquyte;
But they had othir cauſe then they had tho.
Beryn was at counfell, his hert was full woo,
And his meyny fory, diftrakt, and al amayide,
For tho they levid noon othir but Geffrey had be-
trayide ;
Becauſe he was fo long they coud no maner rede,
But everich by hymfelf wisfhid he had be dede.
O myghtful God! they feyd, I trow tofore this day
Was nevir gretter trefon, fere, ne affray,
Ywrought onto mankind then now is to us here,
And namelich by this Geffrey with his fotil chere;
So feithful he made it he wold us help echone.
And now we be ymyryd he letith us fit aloon.
Of Geffrey, quod Beryn, be as it be may;
We mut anſwer nede, ther is noon othir way;
And ther'for let me know your wit and your
counfaile.
They wept, and wrong their hondis, and gan to
waille
[lyve
The tyme that they were bore, and fhortly of the
They wisfhid that they wer. With that came Gef-
frey blive,
Faffing them towards, and began to fmyle.
Beryn axid Geffrey wher he had be al the while?
Have mercy oppon us, and help us as thow hight.
I woll help yow right wele through grace of
Godd'is might;
And I can tell yow tiding of their governaunce.
They ftondin altercatioune and ftryf in poynt to
praunce
To depart your goodis, and levith verily
That it wer impoffibil yew to remedy;
But their high pride and their prefumpcioune
Shal be yit or eve their confufioune;
And to make amendis ech man for his pleynt,
Let fe ther'for your good avife how they might
be ateynt.
The Romeyns ftode ftill, as who had fhor their
hede.
In feith, quod Beryn, we can no maner rede,
But in God and yew we fubmit us all,
Body, lyf, and goodis, to ſtond or to fall,
ོ་
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &c.
And nevir for to travers o word that thow feyft ;
Help us, good Geffrey, as wele as thou mayft.
Deperdeux! quod Geffrey, and I woll do my peyn
To help yow as my connyng woll ftrech and ateyn,
The Romeyns went to barr, and Geffrey altofore
With a nice countenance, bare fote, and to tore,
Pleying with a yerd he bare in his honde,
And was evir wiftlyng at every pafe comaunde.
The ſteward and the burgeyfis had game inowghe
Of Geffrey 'is nice comyng, and hertlich lowghe;
And eche man feyd, Gylhochet, com nere ;
Thow art right welcome, for thow makiſt us chere.
The fame welcom, quod Geffrey, that yee woll us
Fall oppon yewr hedis, I pray to God, and wers.
They held hym for a verry fole, but he held them
wel more;
And fo he made them in breff tyme, all though
they wer nat fhore.
Styntith now, quod Geffrey, and let make pefe;
Of myrthis and of japis tyme is now to cefe,
And fpeke of othir mater that we have to doon,
For and we hew amys eny maner ſtone
We know wele in certeyn what pardon we fhul
have;
The more is our nede us to defend and fave.
My mafter hath be at counfell, and ful avifid is
That I fhall have the wordis, fpeke I wele or mys;
Wherfor, Sir Steward, and ye burgeyfis all.
Sittith upright, and writtith nat, for aventuris that
may fall;
For and ye deme untrewely, or do us cny wrong,
Ye fhull be refourmyd, be ye nevir fo ftrong,
Of every poynt and injury, and that in grete hafte,
For he is nat unknowe to us that may yow chaſte:
Hold forth the right wey, and by no fide lanys.
And as towching the first pleyntif Syrephanes,
That pleyd with my mafter yiftirday at ches,
And made a certeyn covenaunte, who that had
the wers
In the last game, al thoughe I wer nat there,
Shuld do the todir's bidding, whatſoever it wer,
Or drynk all the watir that falt wer in the fee;
Thus I trowe, Sir Steward, ye woll record the ple,
And yf I have ymiffid in lettir or in word
The lawe, wol I be rewlid aftir yewr record;
For we be ful avifid in this wife to anſwere.
Evander the ſteward, and al men that wer there,
Had mervil much of Geffrey, that ſpak ſo redely,
Whofe wordis tofore femyd al foly,
And wer aftonyed cleen, and gan for to drede,
And ev'ry man tyl othir lenyd with his hede,
And feyd he reported the tale right formally;
He was no fole in certen, but wife, ware, and fely,
For he hath but yjapid us and fcornyd heretofore,
And we have hold hym a fole, but we be wel
more.
Thus they ftodied on Geffrey, and laughed tho
right naught.
When Geffrey had afpied they wer in fuch thought,
And their hertis trobelid, penfyf, and anoyed,
Hym lyft to dryve in bet the nayl, till they were
fully cloyid.
}
Soverens Sirs, he feyd, fith that it fo is
269
| As provith wele yowr fcilence, eke ye withfeyth'
O word of our tale, but clene without ſpot, [nat
Then to our answer I prey yow take hede,
For we wol fey al the trowith right as it is in dede;
For this is foth and certen, it may nat be with-
feyd,
That Beryn that here ftondith was thus ovirpleid
In the last game, when wagir was opon;
But that was his.fufferaunce, as ye fhull here anoon,
For in all this cete ther n'ys no maner man
Can piey
betir at ches then my maftir can;
Ne bet then I,though I it fey, can nat half ſo much;
Now how he loft it by his wyll the caufe I woll
teche ;
For ye wend and ween that he had hym engyned.
But ye fhul fele in every veyn that ye be undir-
mined,
And ybrought at ground, and eke ovirmufid.
And agenft the firſt that Beryn is accufid
Herith now ententyflich. When we wer on the fee
Such a tempeft or us fill that noon myght othir ſe
Of thundir, wynd, and lightenyng, and ftormys
ther among.
Fiftene dayis during the tempeft was ſo ſtrong
That eche man till othir began hym for to fhryve,
And made their avowis, yf they myght have the
lyve,
Som to fe the fepulkir, and fom to othir plafe,
To fech holy feyntis for help and for grace;
Som to faft and do pennaunce, and fom do almyf-
dede;
Tyl at laſt, as God wold, a voiſe to us feyd,
In our moft turment, and defperat of mynd,
That yf we wold be favid my maifter muft hym
bynd
Be feith and eke be vow, when he cam to lond,
To drink al the falt watir within the fee ftrond,
Without drinking eny fope of the fresh watir;
And taught hym al the fotilte how and in what
manere
That he fhuld wirch by engyne and by a fotill
charm,
[harm,
To drink all the falt watir and have hymfelf no
But ſtop the freſh rivers by every coſt ſide,
That they enter nat in the fe thorough the world
wyde.
The voife we herd but naught we faw; fo wer our
witts ravid,
For this was end fynally, yf we luft be favid.
Wher'for my mafter Beryn, when he cam to this
port,
To his avow and promys he made his firſt reſort,
Or that he wold bergeyn eny marchandiſe,
And right doith thefe marchandis in the fame wife
That maken their avowis in faving of their lyv'is,
They completyn their pilgremagis or they fe their
wyvis.
So mowe ye ondirſtond that my maſter Beryn
Of fre will was ymatid, as he that was a pilgrym,
And myght nat perfourm by many thowfand part-
His avow and his heft wythout right fotil art,
Without help and ftrength of many mennys
myght.
[right
That in reporting of our ple ye fynd nothing amys, Sir Steward, and Sir Burgeyfe, if we fhul have
1
i
268
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &
Sirophanes must do coft and aventure,
To ftop al the fresh ryvers into the fee that entir,
For Beryn is redy in al thing hym to quyte,
So he be in defaute muft pay for the wite.
Sith ye been wife al what nede is much clatir?
Ther was no covenaunte them betwene to drink
fresh watir.
When Sirophanes had yherd al Geffrey's tale,
He ftode al abafhid, with colour wan and pale,
And lokid oppon the fteward with a rewful chere,
And on othir frendſhip and neyhbours he had
there,
And preyd them of counfell the anſwere to reply.
Thefe Romeyns, quod the fteward, been wondir
And eke right ymmagytyf, and of fotil art, [fcly,
That I am in grete dowte howe yee fhul depart
Without harm in oon fide: our lawis, well thow
woft,
•
Is to pay damagis, and eke alfo the coſt,
Of every party plentyf that fallith in his pleynt :
Let hym go quyt I counfell, yf it may fo be
queynt.
I merveil, quod Sirophanes, of their fotilte,
But fith that it ſo ftondith, and may noon othir be,
I do woll be counfell, and graunted Beryn quyte.
But Geffrey thought anothir, and without refpite,
Sirs, he feyd, me wetith wele that ye wol do us
right,
And ſo ye muft nedis, and fo ye have us highte;
have us highte;
And therefore, Sir Steward, ye occupy our plafe,
And ye know wele what law wol in this ca e;
My maftir is redy to perfourme his avow.
But nathelefs, quod the fteward, I cannat wete
how.
To ſtop all the freſh watir were poffibilite
Yis, in foth, quod Geffrey, who had of gold plente
As man coud wiſh and it myght well be do:
But that is nat our defaute, he hath no trefour to.
Let hym go to in hafte, or find us fuerte
To make amendis to Beryn for his iniquite,
Wrong, and harm, and trefpas, and undewe wex-
acioune,
Loft of fale, and marchandiſe, difeſe, and tribula-
lacioune,
That we have fuftenyd thorough his iniquite.
What vaylith it to tary us? for though ye fotil pry
We fhul have refon wher ye wol or no,
So woll we that ye knowe what that we woll do;
In certen full avifid to Hope for to paſe,
And declare every poynt, them ore and cke the
lafe,
That of yeur opyn errours hath pleyne corrcc-
tioune,
And agenys his jugement is noon protectioune :
He is yewr lord riall, and foveren jugge and lele,
That and ye work in eny poynt to hym liith our
apele.
So when the ſteward had yherd, and the burgeyfis
alle,
How Geffrey had yfteryd, that went fo nighe the
gall,
1
What for fhame, and drede of more harm, and re-
preffe,
They made Sirophanes, weer hym looth or leffe,
|
To take Beryn gage, and plegg find alfo,'
To byde the ward and jugement of that he ha
myfdo.
Now fertherfore, quod Geffrey, fith that it ſo is
That of the first plentyf we have fikernes,
Now to the Marchant we muſt nedis anfwere,
That bergeyned with Beryn al that his fhippis
bere,
In covenaunte that he fhuld his fhippis fill ageyn
Of othir marchandife that he tofore had feyn
In Hanybald'is plafe, howfis to or thre,
Full of marchandiſe as they might be;
Let us pas thidir, yf eny thing be there
At our luft and liking, as they accordit were.
I graunt wele, quod Hanybald, thow axiſt but
righte;
Up arofe thefe burgeyfis, Thow axift but right.
The fteward and his comperis entrid firft the
howie,
And faw nothing within, ftraw, ne le ff, ne mowſe,
Save tymbir, and the tyle ftonys, and the wallis
white.
I trow, quod the fteward, the wynnyng woll be
but lite
That Beryn woll now get in Hanybald, is pleynte,
For I can fe noon othir but they woll be ateynt,
And clepid them in echone, and went out hym-
felve.
| felve,
As fone as they were entrid they faw no maner.
For foris of their hert, but, as tofore is feyd,
The howfe was cleen yfwept; then Geffrey feir
they preyde,
To help yf he coud. Let me aloon, quod he,
Yit fhul they have the wers as fotil as they be.
Evander the ſteward in the mene while
Spak to the burgeyfe, and began to fmyle;
Though Sirophanes be yhold thes Romeyns for t●
curs,
Yit I trow that Hanybald woll put hym to the
wers,
For I am fuyr and certeyn within they fhul nat
fynd?
What fey ye be my pleynt, Sis, quod the blynd?
For I make a vow I woll nevir cefe
Tyl Syrophanes have of Beryn a pleyn releſe,
And to make hym quyte of his fubmiffioune,
Els wol I have no pete of his contritioune,
But folow hym al fo ferfly as I can or may
Tyll I have his eyen both to away.
Now in feith, quod Machyn, and I wol have his
lyffe,
For though he fcape yew all, with me woll he nat
ſtryffe,
But be right feyn in hert all his good forfake
For to fcape wyth hys lyf, and to me it take.
Beryn and his felefhip wer within the houſe,
And fpeken of their anfwer, and made but litill
roufe,
But evir preyd Geffrey to help yf he coud ought.
I woll nat faill, quod Geffrey, and was tofore be-
thought
Of too botirfliis, as white as eny fnowe;
He lete them flee within the houſe, that aftir en
the wowe
THE MERCHANT'S
269
SECOND TALE, &c.
They clevid wondir faft, as their kynd woll,
Aftir they had flew to rest anothir pull
When Geffrey faw the boterfliis cleving on the wall
The ſteward and the burgeyfe in he gan call;
Lo! Sirs, he fayd, whofo evir repent,
We have thoſe marchandife moft to our talent
That we fynd herein. Behold, Sir Hanybal,
The yondir batirfliis that clevith on the wall;
Of fuch ye muſt fill our fhippis all fyve.
But the cauſe of chaunging yit is to yow onknow,
Wher'fore I woll declare it both to high and lowe.
In that ſame tyme that this burge fe blynd,
And my maſter Beryn, as faft as feyth myght bynde
Were marchaundis in comyn of al that they myght
Saff of lyf and lym, and of dedel fyn, [wyn,
Ther fill in tho marchis of al thing ſuch a derth
That joy, comfort, and folas, and al maner myrth;
Was exilid cleen, faff oonly moleftatioune,
Pluk up thy hert Beryn, for thow moft nedis That abood continuel-defperatioune :
thryve;
For when we out of Rome in Marchantfare went,
To purchaſe botir fliis was our moſt entent;
Yit woll I tell the caufe efpecial and why :
There is a leche in Room that hath ymade a cry
To make an oyntement to cure all tho ben blynde,
And al maner infirmytees that growith in man-
kynde.
[ye mut hy.
The day is fhort; the work is long: Sir Hanyball,
When Hanybald herd this tale, he feyd pryvely
In counfell to the ſteward; In foth I have the wers,
For I am fikir by this pleynt that fhall I litil purs.
So me femeth, quod the ſteward, for in the world
rounde
So many botirfliis wold nat be founde
I trow o fhip to charge; wher'for me thinkith beſt
Let hym have his good ageyn, and be in pefe and
reft.
And yit is an aventure and thow fcape fo
Thy covenaunt to relefe without more ado.
The burgeyfis everichone, that were of that cete,
Were anoyid fore when they herd of this plee;
Geffrey with his wifdom held them hard and
Atreyte,
That they were acombrit in their own diftreyte.
When Hanybald with his frendis had spoke of
this matere
[manere:
They drow them towards Beryn, and feid in this
Only for botirfliis ye com fro our contres
And we you tell in fikirnes and opon our fey,
That fo many botirflyes we fhul nevir gete,
Wherefore we be avifid othirwife to trete;
That Han bald fhal relefe his covenaunt that is
makid,
[ranfakid.
And delyver the good ageyn that from you was
Nay forfoth, quod Geffrey, us nedith no relcfe;
Ye fhull hold our covenant and we fhall veurs
For we fhull have refon wher ye wolk or no [alfo,
Whils Ifope is alyve; I am nothyng aferd,
For I can wipe all this plee cleen from your berd,
And ye blench onys out of the high wey. [deley.
Thei proferid hym plegg and gage without more
Now ferthirmore, quod Geffrey, us ought to pro-
cede,
[nede;
For to the blynd mann'ys poynt we muſt anſwer
'That, for to tell trowith, he lyvith all to long
For his own fawte and his own wrong
On Beryn he hath furmyfid, asprevith by his plee,
And that ye fhull opynlich know wele and fee;
For as I undirftode hym he feyd that fele yeris
Beryn, that here ftondith, and he were pertyneris
Of wynnyng and of lefyng, as men it ufe and
doith,
And that they chaungit eyen, and yit this is fothe:
|
So when that the pepil wer in moll myfcheffe
God that is above, that al thing doth releve,
Sent them fuch plente of mony, fruyte, and corn,
Wich turnid al to joy their mournyng al to forn;
Then gaf they them to mirth, revel, pley, and
And thankid God above evir more among [fong,
Of their relevacioune from woo into gladnes,
For Aftir four when fwete is com it is a plefant mes.
So in the meen while of this profperite
Ther cam fuch a pleyer into the fame contre
That nevir thertofore was feyn fuch anothir,
That wele was the creture that born was of his
modir
That myght fe the mirthis of this jageloare,
For of the world wide tho day is he bare the floure,
For there n'as man ne woman in that regioune
That fet of hymfelf the ftore of a boton
Yf he had not fey his myrthis and his game.
So oppon a tyme this pleyer did proclame
That al manere of pepill his pleyis wold fe
Shuld com oppon a certen dey to the grete cete :
Then among othir my mafter here, Beryu,
And this fame blynd, that pledith now with hym,
Made a certen covenaunt that they wold ſe
The mervellis of this pleyer and his fotilte :
So what for hete of fomer, age, and' febilnes,
And eke alfo the long way, this blynd for wer
rynes
Fill flat adown to the erth; o fote ne myght he go
Wher for my maſter Beryn in hert was full woo,
And feyd, My frend, how now ? mow ye no fer-
ther pas?
No, he fayd, by hym that firft made mas;
And yit had levir, as God my foule fave,
Se thes wondir pleyis then all the good I have,
I cannat els, quod Beryn, but yf it may nat be
But that ye and I mut retourn age
Aftir ye be refreſhid of your werynefs,
For to leve yew in this plite it wer no gentilnes,
Then feyd this blynd, I am aviſid bet;
Beryn, ye fhull wend thidir without eny let,
And have myn eyen with yew that they the pley
mow fe,
And I woll have yewrs tyll ye come age.
Thus was their covenaunt made, as I to yowreport,
For efe of this blynd, and moft for his comfort.
But wotith wele the whole ſcience of all fur-
gery
Was unyd or the chaunge was made of both eye
With many fotill enchantours and eke nygraman-
cers,
That fent were for the nonys maftris and fcoleris.
So when all was complete my maftir went his we
With this mann'ys eyen and faw all the pley,
*
}
i
270
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &%.
And haftly retourned into that plafe age,
And fond this blynd feching on hondis and on
kne,
Grafping all aboute to fynd that he had lore,
Beryn his both eyen that he had tofore.
But as fone as Beryn had pleyn knowleche
That his eyen were yloft, unneth he myght
areche
O word, for pure angu-fh that he toke fodenly,
And from that day till nowe ne myght he nevir
fpy
This man in no plafe ther law was ymevid;
But now in his prefence the foth is full yprevid,
That he fhall make amendis or he hens pas
Right as the lawe wol deme, ethir more or las;
For my maſtir'is eyen were betir and more clere
Then theſe that he hath now to ſe both fer and
nere;
So wold he have his own, that proper were of
kynd,
For he is evir redy to take to the blynde
The eyen that he had of hym, as covenaunt was,
So he woll do the fame. Now, Soverens, in this
Ye mut take hede for to deme right, [cafe
For it wer no refon my maſtir fhuld leſe his fight
For his trew hert and his gentilnes.
Beryn, quod the blind, tho I woll the relefe
My quarell and my cauſe, and fall fro my pleynt.
Thow mut ncde, quod Geffrey, for thow art
ateynt,
So mut thow profir gage, and borowis fynd alſo,
For to make amendis, as othir have ydo.
Sir Steward, do us law, fith we defire but right:
As we been pefe marchandis us longith nat to
fight,
But pleyn us to the law, yf fo we be agrevid.
Anoon opon that Geffrey theſe wordis had yme-
vid
The blynd man fond borowis for all his maleta-
lent,
And were yentrid in the court to byde the juge-
ment;
For thoughe that he blynde were yit had he good
plente,
And more wold have wonne through his ini-
quite.
1
1
And wold have take her by the hond, but he
awey did breyde,
And with grete fighing theſe wordis fhe feyd;,
That ageyns Beryn fhe wold plede no more,
But gagid with too borowis, as othir had do to-
fore.
The ſteward fat as ftill as who had fhor his hede,
And fpecially the pleyntifs were in much drede:
Geffrey fet his wordis in fuch maner wife
That wele they wilt they myght nat fcape in no
wife
Without lofs of goodis for damage and for coſt,
For ſuch wer their lawis wher pleyntis wer yloft.
Geffre had full perfeyte of their encombirment,
And cke he was in certen that the jugement
Shuld pas with his maſtir; wherfor he anoon,
Sovern Sirs, he feyd, yit muſt we ferthir goon,
And anſwere to this Machyn, that ſeith the knife
is his
That found was on Beryn; ther'of he ſeith nat
amys:
And for more preſe he feith in this manere
That here ftondith preſent the fame cotelere
That the knyfe made, and the precious ftonys thre
Within the haft been couchid, that in Cryftyanite,
Thoughe men wold of purpoſe make ferch and
feche,
Men fhuld nat fynd in al thing a knyſe that were
it liche;
And more opyn prefe than maun'ys own know
leche
Men of law ne clerkis con nat tell ne teche.
Now fith we be in this manere thus ferforth ago,
Then were fpedfull for to know how Beryn cam
first to
Have poffeffioune of the knyfe that Machyn feith
is his :
To yew unknowne I fhall enfourm the trowith as
it is.
Now ſeven yere and paffid, opon a Tuyfday
In the Paffioun-weck, when men leven pley,
And ufe mote devocioune, faftyng, and preyer,
Then in othir tymc or fefon of the yere,
This Beryn's fadir erlich wold ariſe,
And barefote go to chirch to Godd'is fervife,
And lay hymfelf aloon from his own wyfe,
Now herith, Sirs, quod Geffrey: thre pleyntifs In reverence of the tyme, and mending of his
been affurid;
And as anenft the ferth this woman hath arerid,
That pleynith here on Beryn, and feyth ſhe is his
wyfe,
And that the hath many a dey led a peynous lyfe,
And much forow endurid his child to fuftene,
And al is foth and trew. Now rightfullich to
deme
Whether of them both fhall othir obey,
And folowe will and luftis, Sir Steward, ye mut
fey.
And therwith Geffrey lokid afide on this woman
How the chaungit colours, pale and eke wan.
All for nought, quod Geffrey, for ye mut with
us go,
And endure with your husbond both wele and
WOO
lyfe:
So on the fame Tuyfda, that I tofore nempt
This Beryn rofe and rayn h m, and to the chirch
went,
h¸
And mervelid in his hert his fadir was nat there,
And homward went ageyn with drede and eke
fere.
Into his fadir's chambir fodenlich he rakid,
And fond hym ligg ftan dede oppon the ſtraw al
nakid,
And the clothis halid from the bed awey.
Out, alas! quod Beryn, that evir I faw this dey!
They meyne herd the noife, how Bern cried alas,
And cam into the chambir al that therein was;
But the dole, and the forowe, and anguyfh, that
was there
It
vay lith nat at this ty me to declare it here
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE &c.
271
But Beryn had most of all, have ye no doute:
And anoon they ferchid the body al aboute,
And fond this fame knyfe, the poynt right at his
hert
Of Beryn's fadir, whoſe teres gan outftert
When he drowth out the knyfe of his fadir's
wound;
Then ftandede I faw hym fall down to the ground
In fight of the most part that beth with hym
now here,
And they affermyd it for foth, as Geffrey did them
lere :
And yit had I nevir fufpecioun from that day tyll
noweth
Who ded that curfed dede, tyll Machyn with his
moweth
Afore yew hath knowlechid that the knyfe is
his;
So mut he nedis anfwer for his deth ywis.
When Macyhn had yherd all Geffrey'is tale
He rofe of bench fodenly with colour wan and
pale,
And feyd onto Beryn, Sir, ageyn the
I woll plete no more, for it wer gret pete
To combir vew with actions that beth of nobill
kynde.
Graunt mercy! Sir, quod Geffrey; but yit ye
fhull fynde
Borowis or ve pas, amendis for to make
For our undewe vexacioune, and gage alfo us
take
In fign of fubmyflioune for your injury,
As law woll and refon, for we woll uttirly
Procede tyll we have jugement finall;
And ther'for, Sir Steward, what that evir fall
Delay us no longer but gyve us jugement,
For triftithe noon othir but we be fulich bent
To Ifope for to wend, and in his high preſence
Reherce al our plees, and have his fentence;
Then fhulle make fynys, and highlich be agre-
vid.
And as fone as the fteward herd thes wordis me-
vid,
Refon, ryght, and law, feyd the ſteward tho,
Ye mut nedis have wher I woll or no;
And to preve my fwyll, or we ferther goon,
Quicklich he commaundit, and fparid nevir oon,
24 burgeyfis in law beft ylerid,
Reherlyng them the plees, and how Geffrey an-
fwerid,
And on lyf and lym, and forfetur of good,
And as they wold nat lefe the ball within their
hood,
To draw a-part togidir, and by their all affent
Spare no man on lyve to gyve trew jugèment.
And when thes 24 burgeyfis had yherd
The charge of the fteward, right fore they wer
aferd
To lefe ther own lyvis but they demed trowith;
And eke of their neybours they had grete rowith,
For they perfeyvid clerelich in the plee through-
out
Their frendis had the wors fide, ther'of they had
no dout,
And yf we deme trewly they woll be fore anoyid,
Yit it is betir then we be fhamyd and diſtroyid.
And anoon they were accordit, and feyd with
Beryn,
And demed every pleyntif to make a grete fyne
With Beryn, and hym fubmyt hoo ich to his grace
Body, good, and catell, for wrong and their tref-
pafe;
So ferforth, tyll at laft it was ſo bout ybore
That Beryn had the doubill good that he had to-
fore,
And wyth joy and myrth, wyth all his company,
He droughe hym to his fhippis ward wyth ſong
and melody.
The fteward and the burgeyfe from the court bent
Into their own placis, and evir as they went
They talkid of the Romeyns, how fotill the wer
To aray hym like a fole that for them fhuld an-
fwer.
What vylith it, quod Hanybald, to angir or to
curs?
And yit I am in certen I fhall fare the wers
All the dayis of my lyfe for this day 'is pleding,
And fo fhal al the remnaunt; and their hondis
wryng,
Both Syrophanes, and the blynd, the woman, and
Machyn,
And be bet avifid er they eftfon s pleyne,
And al othir perfonys wythn this cete
Mell the les wyth Rome ns whils they here be
For fuch anothir fole was nevir yit yborn,
For he did naught ellis but evir with us fcorn
Tyll he had us caught even by the fhyn
With his fotill wittis in our own grene.
Now woll I retourn to Beryn ageyn,
That of his grete lukir in hert was right feyne.
And fo was all his meyne, as them ought wele,
That they wer fo delyverid from turment like to
hell,
And graciuſly-relevid out of ther grete myſchef,
And yfet above in comfort and bouchef.
Now in foth, quod Beryn, it ma, nat be denied
N'ad Geffrey and his witt be we had be diftroy id:
Ithanked be Almyghty God omnipotent
That for our confolacioune Geffrey to us fent !
And in proteft opynly, here among yew alle,
Half my good, whils that I lyve, whatevir me
befall,
I graunt it here to Geffrey, to gyve or to fell,
And nevir to part from me, yf it wer his wyl,
And fare as well as I a morrow and eke on eve,
And nevir for a man on lyve his company for to
leve.
Graunt mercy! Sir, quod Geffrey, yewr profir is
feir and grete,
But I defire no more but as ye me behete,
To bryng me at Room, for this is covenaunte.
It fhall be do, quod Beryn, and all the rem-
naunt.
Deperdeux! quod Geffrey, ther'of we fhull wele
do.
He rayid hym ochirwife; and without wordis me
They went to the dyner the hole company,
With pipis and wyth trompis, and othir melody :
*272
SECOND TALE, &'c.
THE MERCHANT'S
And n the myddis of their mete gentil women
fyve,
Maidens freſh atirid as myght be on lyve,
Com from the Duke Ifope, lord of that rigioune,
Everich wyth a prefent, and that of grete re-
nown:
The first bare a cup of gold, and of afure fyne,
So corouſe and fo nobill that I can nat devyne;
The ſecond brought a ſwerd yfhethid, wyth
feyntur
Ifretid all with perelis orient and pure;
The third had a mantell of lufty fresh colour,
The uttir part of purpill, yfurrid with pelour;
The ferth a cloth of gold, a worthy and a riche,
That nevir man tofere faw cloith it liche;
The fift bare a palme that ftode tofore the deyfe
In tokyn and ſign of trowith and peſe,
For that was the custom through all the con-
tray;
The meflage was the levir and more plefant to
pay.
The cup was uncoverid, the fwerd was out
ybrayid,
'The mantell was unfold, the cloth along ylayid;
They knelid adown echone right tofore Beryn;
The first did the meffage, that taught was wel
and fyne :
Ifope, the feyd, Sir Beryn, that is our lord riall,
And gretith yew, and fendith yew theſe prefentis
all,
And joy hath of yewr wiſdom and of yewr go-
vernaunce,
And preyd you to com and have with hym ple-
faunce
To morowe, and fe his palayſe, and to ſport you
there,
Yee and all your company. Beryn made noon an-
fwere,
But fat ftyll, and beheld the women and the fon-
dis;
And aftir ward avifely the fwerd firft he hondis
And commaundit therewith all the wymmen wasſh
and fit,
And pryvelich chargit officers that with al their
wit
To ſerve them of the beft, and make them hertly
chere
Reflevying al the prefentis in worshipful manere.
I cannat wele exprefs the joy that they had,
But I fuppofe tofore that day that they were nat
fo glad
That they wer fo afcapid fortune and myſchefe,
And thankid God above that al thing doith releſe;
For Aftir myfty cloudis ther comith a cler fonne,
So aftir hale comyth bote, whoſo byde conne.
The joy and nobley that they had whils they wer
at mete,
It vaylith nat at this tyme ther'of long to trete:
But Geffrey fat with Beryn, as he had fervid wele;
Their hedis they leyd togidir, and begon to tell
In what maner the wymen fuld be anfwered.
Geffre evir avifid Beryn ther of he leryd,
And of othir thinges how he hym fhuld govern;
Ber, n.faverid wele theren, and fast he gan to lern.
When al wer up the wymmen cam to take their
leve;
Beryn, as fat hym wele of blode, them toward
releve,
gan
And prey'd them hertly hym to recommend
Unto the worthy lordſhip of Ifope, that
you fend
To me that am unworth,,fave of his grete nobley,
And thank h, m` of his gyftis as ye can beft, and
fey,
To morow I woll be redy his heft to fulfill,
With this I have fave condit I may com hym tyll,
For me and al my felefhip faff to com and go,
Truſting in his difcrecioune that thoughe I ax fo
He wol nat be difplefid; for in my contray
It hath evir be the cuſtom, and is into this day,
That yf a lord riall defirith for to fee
Eny maner perfone that is of las degre,
Er he approche his prefence he wol have in his
honde
m10,
A faff condit enfelid, or els fom othir bonde,
That he may com and pas without difturbaunce;
Throughout all our marchis it is the obfervaunce.
Thes wymmen toke their leve without wordis
Repeyring onto Ifope, and al as it was do
They reherfid redely, and faylid nevir a word,
To Ifope with his baronage ther he fat at his borde,
Talkyng faſt of Romayns, and of their high pru-
dence,
That in fo many daungers made fo wife defence.
But as fone as Ifope had pleynlich yherd
Of Beryn's governaunce, that firſt fefid the fwerd
Afore al othir prefentis, he demed in hys minde
That Beryn was ycom of fom nobill kynde.
The nyght was paft; the morowe cam; lfope had
nat forgete;
He chargit barons twelf with Beryn for to mete
To cond hym faff and his meyne; and al perfour-
myd was.
Thre dayis ther they fportid hym in myrth and
folas,
That throughe the wife inftructioune of Geffrey
nyght and dey
Beryn plefid Ifope with wordis al to pay,
And had hym ſo in port and in governaunce
Of all honeft myrthis and witty daliaunce,
That Ifope caft his chere to * ryn fo groundly,
That at last ther was no man with Ifope fo pryvy,
Reforting to his fhippis, comyng to and fro,
Thoroughe the wit of Geffrey, that eche day it
fil fo
That Ifope coude no wher chere when Beryn was
abfent;
So Beryn muſt nedis cche day be aftir fent :
And chefe he was of counfell within the firſt
yerc,
Thoroughe the wit of Geffrey, that echc dey did
hym lere.
This Ifope had a doughtir betwene hym and his
wyfe
That was as feir a creature as myght bere lyfc,
Wyfe, and cke bountevoufe, and benying with
all,
That heir fhuld be aftir his dey of his lordfhippis
alle ;
2
THE MERCHANT'S SECOND TALE, &c.
273
30, fhortly to conclude, the mariage was made
Betwene hir and Beryn, many a man to glade,
Saff the burgeyfis of the town, of falfhede that
were rote:
But they wer evir hold fo low ondir fote
That they might nat regne, but at laſt fawe
To leve their condicioune and their fals lawe. -
Beryn and Geffrey made them ſo tame
That they amendit eche dey, and gat a betir
name.
¡
Thus Geffrey made Beryn his enemyes to ovir-
com,
And brought hym to worship thoroughe his
wyfdom
Now God us graunt grace to fynde fuch a
frende
When we have nede! and thus I make an
ende.
$
VOL. I.
1
MISCELLANI E S.
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE*.
MANY menne faine that in fweveninges
Ther n'is but fables and lefinges,
But yet menne maie fome fwedin fene
Whiche hardily that falfe ne bene,
But aftirwarde ben apparent,
This maie I drawin to warraunt.
An author that hight Macrobes,
That halte not dremis falfe ne lefe,
But undoth us the avifioun
That whilom mette King Cipioun.
And who faith and weneth it be
A jape or cls a nicete
To wene that dremis aftir fal,
Let who fo lifte a fole me cal;
For this trowe I, and far for me,
That dremis fignifiaunce be
Of gude and harme to many wightes
That dremin in ther flepe a nightes
Full many thingis covirtly
That fallin aftir opinly.
This book was begun in French verfe by William
de Lorris, and finished forty years after by John Clopinell,
alias John Moone, born at Mewen upon the river of Loy-
er, not far from Par's, as appeareth by Molinet the French
author, upon the morality of 'The Romaunt, and after.
ward tranflated, for the most part into English metre by
Geoffrey Chaucer, but not finithed. It is intituled The.
Romaunt of the Rofe, or 'The Art of Love; wherein are
thewed the helps and furtherances, as alfo the lets and im-
pediments that lovers have in their fuits. In this book
the author hath many glances at the hypocrify of the
clergy, whereby he got himſelf ſuch hatred amongst them
that Gerfon Chancellor of Paris writeth thus of him:
fay'th he, 'There was one called Johannes Meldinenus who
wrote a book called The Romaunt of the Roſe, which
book if I only had, and that there were no more in the
world, if I might have 509 pound for the fame, I wold ra- ·
He faith more, that if
ther burn it than take the money,
he thought the author thereof did not repent him for that
hook before he dyed, he would vouchsafe to pray for hum
1 more than he would for Judas that betrayed Chrift,
Urry.
Within my twenty yere of age,
Whan that Love takith his corage
Of yongè folke, I wentè fone
To bed, as I was wont to done,
And faſte I flepte, and in fleping
Me mette fuche a fwevining
That likid me wondirous wele,
But in that fwevin' is ner a dele
That it n'is aftirwarde befal,
Right as this dreme wol tell us al.
Now this dreme wol I rime a right
To make your hertis gay and light;
For Love it prayith, and alſo
Commaundith me, that it be fo.
And if there any aſkin me
Whether that it be he or fhe,
And how this boke whiche is here
Shal hate, which that I rede you here,
It is The Romaunt of the Rofe,
In which all The' Arte of Love I clofe.
The matir faire is of to make,
God graunt in gre that ſhe it take
For whom that it begonnin is!
And that is fhe that hath iwis
So mokil prife, and therto fhe
So worthy is beloved to be
That the wel ought of priſe and right
Be clepid Rofe of every wight.
That it was Mey me thoughtin tho,
It is five yere or more ago,
That it was Mey thus dremid mc,
In time of love and jolite,
That al thing ginnith waxin gay,
For there is neithir buske nor hay
In Mey that it n'ill ſhroudid bene,
And it with newè levis wrenc¿
}
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSÉ.
275
Thefe wordis cke recoveren grene
That drie in winter ben to fene,
And the erth wexith proud withall
For fote dewis that on it fall,
And the povir eftate forgette
In whiche that winter had it fette,
And than becometh the grounde ſo proude
That it wol have a newè ſhroude,
And make fo queint his robe and fayre,
That it had hewes an hundrid payre
Of graffe and flouris Inde and Pers,
And many hewis full divers,
That is the robe I mene iwis
Through whiche the ground to praifin is.
The birdis that han left ther fonge
While thei han fuffrid colde ful ſtronge
In wethers grille and derke to fight,
Ben in Mey for the funne bright
So glad, that they fhewe in finging
That in ther herrt is fuche liking
That thei mote fingin and ben light ;
'Than dothe the nightingale her might
To makin noife and fingen blithe,
Than is blissful many a fithe,
The chelandre' and the popingay,
Than yongè folke entendin aye
For to beh gaic and amorous,
The time is than fo favorous.
Harde is his herte that lovith nought
In Mey, whan al this mirth is wrought,
Whan he may on theſe braunchis here
The fmale birdis finging clere
Ther blisfull fwete fong pitous :
And in this fefon delitous,
Whan love affirmith all thing,
Me thought one night, in my fleping,
Right in my bed ful redily
That it was by the' morowe erly,
And up I rofe and gan me clothe;
Anon I wifhe mine hondis bothe,
A filvir nedil forth I drowe
Out of aguiler queint inowe,
And gan this nidill threde anone;
For out of toune me lift to gone
The foune of briddis for to here
That on the bufkis fingin clere,
In the fwete fefon that lefe is,
With a thred bafting my flevis,
Alone I went in my playing,
The ſmale foulis fonge herkening,
That painid'hem ful meny' a paire
To fing on bowis bloffomed faire
Jolife and gaie, full of gladneffe,
Towarde a river gan me dreffe,
Which that I herde renne faftè by,
For fairir playin non faugh I
Than playin me by that rivere,
3
:
For from an hill that ftode there nere
Come doune the ftreme full ftiffe and bold,
Clere was the watir, and as cold.
As any welle is, fothe to faine,
And fomdele laffe it was than Saine,
But it was ftraitir, wele away,
And nevir faugh I er that daie
The watir that fo wele liked me,
And wondir glad was I to fe
That lufty place and that rivere :
With that watir that ran fo clere
My face I wifhe, tho fawe I wele
The botome ipavid everidele
With gravell, ful of ftonis hene,
The medowis fofte, fote, and grene,
Bect right upon the watir fide;
Ful clere was than the morowe tide,
And ful attempre out of drede;
Tho gan I walkin throwe the mede,
Downwarde evir in my playing
Nigh to the river's fide coafting.
And whan I had a while igone
I fawe a gardin right anone
Full long and brode, and everidele
Enclofid was and wallid wele
With hie walis enbatailid,
Portrayed without, and well entaylid
With many full riche portreitures,
And both the' imagis and peintures
Gan I beholdin befily;
And I wol tel you redily
Of thilke imagis the femblaunce,
As ferre as I have remembraunce.
Amiddis fawe I Hate yftondé,
That for her wrathe, and ire, and onde,
Semid to be a minoreffe,
An angry wight, a chidireffe,
And ful of gile and fell corage
By femblaunt was that ilke image,
And ſhe was nothing wele arraide,
But like a wode woman afraide;
Yfrouncid foule was her vifage,
And grinning for difpitous rage;
Her nofe yfnortid up for tene,
Ful hidous was the for to fene;
Ful foule and rufty was fhe this;
Her hed iwrithin was iwis
Ful grimly with a grete towaile.
An image of anothre' entaile
A lifte halfe was her faſt yby;
Her name above her hed fawe I,
And fhe was callid Felony.
Anothre' image, that Villany
Yclepid was, fawe I and fonde
Upon the wall on her right honde :
This Villany was like fomdele
That othre' image, and truftith wele
She femid a wickid creture;
By countenaunce in portreiture
She femid be ful difpitous,
And eke ful proude and outragious.
Wel coude he paint, I undertake,
That fuch an image coude imake;
Ful foule and chorlich femid the,
And eke villeinous for to be,
And litil could of noriture
To worshippe any creature.
And nexte was paintid Covetife,
That eggith folke in many' a gife
To take and yeve right nought again,
And grete trefouris up to laine.
S ij
376
HE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
1
And that is fhe that for ufure
Lenith to many a creture
The laffe for the more winning,
So covitous is her brenning!
And that is fhe for pennis fele
That techith for to robbe and ſtele
'Thefe thevis and thefe fpale harlotes,
And that'is routhe, for by ther throtes
Ful many one hongith at laſt ;
She makith folke compaffe and caſt
'To`takin othir folkis thing
Through robbery' or mifcoveting;
And that is fhe that makith trechours,
And the that makith falfe pledours,
That with ther termis and ther domes
Do maidins, childrin, and eke gromes,
Ther heritage, alas! forgo;
Ful crokid were her hondis two,
For Covetife is evir wode
To gripin othir folkis gode;
For Covetife for her winning
Ful lefe hath othir mennis thing.
Another image ſet faugh L
Next unto Covetife faft by,
And ſhe was clepid Avarice:
Ful foule in painting was that vice,
Ful fad and caitife was fhe eke,
And alfo grene as any leke;
So evil hewed was her coloure
Her femed to have livid in langoure;
She was like thing for hungir ded,
That lad her life onely by bred
Knedin with eifel ftrong and egre,
And therto fhe was lene and megre;
And fhe was clad ful povirly
Al in an oldè torne courtpye
As fhe were all with doggis torne,
And bothe behinde and eke beforne
Ycloutid was fhe beggirly.
A mantil honge her faft by
Upon a benche both weke and ſmale;
A burnette cote honge there withal,
Yfurrid with no menivere,
But with a furrè rough of here
Of lambe ſkynnys hevy and blake;
It was full olde I undirtake,
For Avarice to clothe her weld
Ne haftith her nevir adele,
For certainly it were her lothe
To werin of that ilke clothe,
And if it were forwerid fhe
Would havin full gret nicetc
Of clothing er fhe bought her newe,
Al were it bad of wol and hewe.
This Avarice helde in her hande
A purfe which that honge by a bande,
And that fhe hid and bonde ſo ſtronge
Men muſt abidin wondir longe
Out of the purfe er there come ought,
For that ne comith in her thought;
It was not certaine her entent
That fro that purfe a peny went.
And by that image nigh inough
Was painted Envy, that nere lough,
1
Nor nevir wel in her hert ferde
But if the either fawe or herde
Some grete mifchaunce or grete difefe;
Nothing ne may ſo much her pleſe
As mifchefe and mifaventure;
Or whan the feeth diſcomfiture
Upon any worthy man fall,
Than likith her right well withall:
She is ful glad in her corage
Yf fhe fe any grete linage
Be brought to naught in fhamful wife;
And if a man in honour rife
Or by his wit or his proweffe,
Of that the bath gret hevineffe,
For truftith wele fhe goeth nie wode.
Whan any chaunce yhapith gode.
Envy is of fuche cruelte
༢
That faith ne trouth ne holdith fhe
To frende ne felawe badde or gode;
Ne fhe hath kinne none of her blode
That the n'is ful ther enemy;
She n'olde, I dare faine hardily,
That her own fathir farid wele:
And fore abieth the every dele
Her malice and her male talent,
For fhe is in fo grete turment
And hate fuche whan that folke doth gode
That nigh fhe meltith for pure wode :
Her hert fo kervith and fo breketh
That God the peple wel a wreketh.
Envy I wis fhall nevir let
Some blame upon the folke to ſet:
I trowe that if Envy i-wis
Yknew the beftè man that is
On this fide or beyond the fe,
Yet fomwhat lackin him wold the ;-
And if he were fo hende and wife
That the ne might abate his prife,
Yet would fhe blame his worthineffe,
Or by her wordis make it leffe.
I fawe Envy in that painting
Yhad a wondirful loking,
For fhe ne lokid but awric
Or ovirthwarte, all baggingly;
And ſhe had a full foule ufage,
She mightin loke in no vifage
Of man ne woman forth right plaine,
But fhette her one eye for difdaine;
So for envie ybrennid ſhe
Whan fhe might any man yfe
That faire or worthy were or wife,
Or ellis ftode in folkis prife...
Sorowe was paintid next Envie
Upon that wal of mafonrie;
But wel was fene in her colour
That fhe had livid in langour;
Her femid to have the jaundice;
Not halfe fo pale was Avarice,
Ne nothing alike of leneffe,
For forowe, thought, and grete diftreffe,
That he had fuffrid day and night,
Made her yelowe, and nothing bright :.
Ful fade, pale, and megre, alfo,
Was
as nevir wighte yet halfe fo wo
1
THE ROMAUNT OF THE
ATT
ROSE.
As that her femid for to be,
Nor fo fulfilled with yre as fhe
I trow that no wight might her pleſe,
Nor do that thing that might her efe;
Nor fhe ne would her forowe flake,
Nor comfort none unto her take,
So depe y was her wo begonne,
ywas
And eke her hert in angre ronne.
A forowful thing wel femid fhe;
Nor ſhe had nothing flowe ybe
For to befcratchin all her face,
And for to rent in many place
Her clothes, and for to tere her ſwire,
As fhe that was fulfilled of ire;
And all to torne laie eke her here
About her ſhulders here and there,
As fhe that had it all to rent
For angre and for male talent.
And eke I tell you certainly
How that ſhe wept full tendirly:
In worlde n'is wight fo hard of herte,
That had yfene her forowes fmerte,
That n'olde have had of her pite,
So wo begon a thing was the.
She all to dafht her felf for wo,
And fmote togidir her hondes two;
To Sorowe was fhe full ententife,
That wofull rechileffe caitife,
Her roughtè little of playing,
Or of clipping or of kiffing,
For who ſo forowfull is in herte
Him luftith not to plaie ne fterte,
Nor for to dauncin ne to fing,
Ne maie his herte in temper bring
To make joie on even or morowe,
For joie is contrary to forowe.
Elde was ypaintid after this,
That fhortir was a fote i-wis
→
Than fhe was wont in her yonghede;
Unneth her ſelf fhe might yfede :
So feble and fo olde was fhe
That fadid was all her beaute;
Full falowe was waxen her colour;
Her hedde for hore was white as flour:
I wis grete qualme ne were it none,
Ne finne, although her life were gone.
All woxin was her body' unwelde,
And drie and dwinid all for elde:
A foule forwelkid thing was fhe,
That whilom round and foft had be:
Her heris fhokin faft withall,
As from her hedde they wouldin fall;
Her face yfrouncid, and forpined,
And bothe her hondis lorne fordwined:
So old fhe was that fhe ne went
A fote but it were by potent.
The time that paffith night and daie,
And reftilcffe travailith aie,
And ſtelith from us privily,
That to us femith fikirly
That it in one point dwellith ever,
And certis it ne reftith never,
But goeth fo faft and paffith aie
That ther n'is man that thinkin maie
f
What time that now prefent is,
Afkith at theſe grete clerkis this;
For men thinkin it redily
'Thre timis ben ypaffid by
The time that maie not fojourne,
But goth and maie never retourne,
As watir that doune runnith aie,
But nevir droppe returnè maie.
There maie nothing as time cndure,
Ne metall nor yerthly creture,
For alle thing is frette and fhall,
The time eke that ychaungith all,
And all doeth waxe and foftrid be,
And allè thing diftroyith he;
The time that eldith our aunceftours
And eldith kinges and emperours,
And that us all fhall ovircomen,
Er that deth us ſhall have nommen,
The time that hath all in welde
To elden folke had made her elde
So inly, that to my weting
She mightin helpe her ſelf nothing,
But tourned eyen unto childhede :
She had nothing her felf to lede,
Ne witte ne pithe within her hold,
More than a child of two yere old.
But natheleffe I trowe that ſhe
Was faire fomtime and freſhe to fe
Whan fhe was in her rightfull age,
But ſhe was paſt all that paffage,
And was a doted thing becomen :
A furrid cappe on had the nommen;
Well had the cladde her felf and warme,
For cold might els doin her harme :
Thefe old folke havin alwaie cold,
Ther kinde is foche whan thei ben old.
An othir thing was down there write
That femid like an ipocrite,
And it was clepid Papelardie;
That ilke is he that privilie
Ne ſparith ner a wicked dede
Whan men of her takin none hede,
And makith her outward precious
With palè vifage and pitous,
And femith a ſimple creture,
But there n'is no miſaventure
That ſhe ne thinketh in her corage:
Full like to her was thilke image
That makid was like her femblaunce,
She was full fimple' of countenaunce;
And fhe was clothid and eke fhod
As fhe were for the love of God,
Yholdin to religion,
Soche femid her devocion.
A ſpaltir helde fhe faſt in honde,
And bufily fhe gan to fonde
To make many a faint praiere
To God and to his fainctis dere :
Ne fhe was gaie, frefhe, ne jolife,
But femed to be full ententife
To gode werkis and to faire,
And therto fhe had on an haire.
Ne certis fhe was fatte nothing,
But femid werie for fafting:
$ iij
278
OF THE ROSE.
THE
ROMAUNT
}
Of colour pale and dede was the;
From her the gates aie warnid be
Of Paradife, that blissfull place,
For foche folke makin lene ther grace,
As Chriſt faieth in his Evangile,
To get 'hem prife in toune a while,
And for a little glory veigne
Thei leifin God and eke his reigne.
And aldir laft of everichone
Was painted Poverte' all alone,
That not a penny had in hold,
Although that fhe her clothis fold,
And though the fhold an hongid be,
For nakid as a worme was fhe,
And if the wether formy were
For cold the fhold have dyid there.
She ne' had on but a ftraite old facke,
And many' a cloute on it there ftacke;
This was her cote and her mantele;
No more was there nevir a dele
To clothe her with; I undirtake
Grete lefir haddè fhe to quake:
And he was put that I of talke
Ferre fro theſe othre, up in an halke;
There lurkid and there courid fhe,
For povir thing, where fo it be,
Is fhamefast and difpifid aie :
A curfid maie well be that daie
That povir man conceived is,
For God wote all to felde i-wis
Is any pore man well ifed,
Or well arayid or icled,
Or well belovid, in foche wife
In honour that he maie arife.
Alle thefe thingis well avifed,
As I have you er this devifed,
With gold and aſure ovir all
Depaintid were upon the wall:
Square was the wall, and high fomdele,
Enclofid and ibarrid wele
:
In ftede of hegge was that gardin,
Came nevir no fhepherd therein :
Into that gardin well ywrought
Who ſo that me coud have ybrought
By ladders, or els by degre,
It wouldè well have likid me;
For foche folace, foche joie and pleie,
I trowe that nevir man ne feie
As was in that place delicious
The gardin was not daungerous
To herborowe birdes many one;
So riche a yere was nevir none
Of birdis fong and braunchis grene,
Therin were birdis mo I went
Than ben in all the relme of Fraunce;
Full blifsfull was the accordaunce
Of the fwete petous fong thei made,
Fall this worlde it ought to glade.
And I my felf fo mery ferde,
Whan I ther blitsfull fongis herde,
That for an hundrid pounde would I,
If that the paffage opinly
Haddin ybe unto me fre,
That I n'olde entrin for to fe
Th' affemble (God kepe it fro care!)
Of birdis whiche that therein ware,
That fongin through ther mery throtes
Dauncis of love and mery notes.
Whan I thus herd the foulis fing,
I fell faſt in a waimenting
By whiche art or by what engin
I might com into that gardin;
But waie I couthe ne findin none
Into that gardin for to gone,
Ne nought wift I if that there were
Eithir a hole or a place where
By whiche I mightin have entre;
Ne there was none to techin me,
For I was all alone i-wis,
For wo and for anguifhe of this,
Till at the lafte bethought I me
That by no waie ne might it be,
There n'as ladder ne waie to pace,
Or hole, into fo faire a place;
Tho gan I go a full grete pace
Environ, evin in compas,
The clofing of the fquare wall,
Till that I founde a wicker ſmall
So fhette that I ne might in gone,
And othir entre was there none.
Upon this dore I gan to fmite
That was fo fetis and fo lite,
For othir waie coud I not fekc.'
Full long I fhofe and knockid eke,
And ftode full long all herkining
If I herd any wight coming,
Till that the dore of thilke entre
A maidin curteis opened me:
Her here was as yelowe of hewe
As any bafin fcourid newe;
Her flefhe tendir as is a chike,
With bent browis both fmothe and flike;
And thereto by mefure large were
The opening of her eyen clere;
Her nofe of gode proporcion;
Her eyen graie as is a faucon ;
With fwete breth and wel favoured;
Her face white and well coloured;
With little mouthe and round to fe;
A clovin chinne eke had fhe;
Her necke was of gode faſhion,
In length and gretneſſe by refon,
Withoutin bleine, or fcabbe, or roine;
Fro Hierufalem' to Burgoine'
There n'is a fairer necke i-wis
To fele how fmothe and foft it is;
Her throte alfo fo white of hewe
As fnowe on braunche yfnowid newe
Of body full well wrought was the,
Men nedin not in no countre
A fairer bodie for to fcke;
And of fine orfrais had fhe eke
A chapilet, fo femely on
Ne nevir werid maide upon;
And faire above that chapilet
A rofe garlande had the yfet;
She had alfo a gaie mirrour;
And with a richè golde trefour
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
279
Fier hedde was treffid full queintly;
Her flevis fowed fetoufly;
And for to kepe her kondis faire
Of glovis white ſhe had a paire
And he had on a cote of grene
i
Of cloth of Gaunt withoutin wene:
Well femid by her aparaille
She was not wont to grete travaile,
For whan fhe kempt was fcteouſly,
And well araied and richily,
Than had fhe doen all her journe,
For mery' and well begon was fhe.
She had a luftie life in Maie
She had no thought by night ne daie
Of nothing but it were onely
To graieth her well and uncouthly.
Whan that this dore had opened me
This maidin femely for to fe,
I thonkid her as I beſt might,
And aſkid her how that the hight,
And what he was I aſked eke ?
And ſhe to me was nought unmeke,
Ne of her anfwere daungerous,
But faire anfwerde, and fayid thus:
Lo, Sir, my name is Idilneffe,
So clepen men me more and leffe :
Ful mightie and ful riche am I,
And that of one thing, namily,
For I entending to no thing
But to my joie and my playing,
And for to kembe and treffè me:
Acquainted am I and prive
With Mirthe, the lorde of this gardin,
That fro the' londe of Alexandrian
Made the treis hithir be fct
That in his gardin ben ifet;
And whan the trees were woxe on hight
This wall, that ftant here in thy fight,
Did Mirthe enclofin all about;
And theſe imagis all without
He did 'hem bothe entaile and paint
That neither ben jolife ne quaint,
But thei ben full of forowe and
As thou haft fene a while ago.
And oft timis him to folace
Wo,
Sir Mirthe comith into this place,
And eke with him come his meine,
That liven' in luft and jolite;
And now is Mirthe therein, to here
The birdis how they fingin clere,
The mavis and the nightingale,
And othir joly birdis fmale;
And thus he walkith to folace
Him and his folke, for fwettir place
To playin in he maie not finde
Although he fought one in till Inde;
The althir faireft folk to fe
That in this worlde maie founde ybe
Hath Sir Mirthe with him in his rout,
'That folowen him alwaies about.
Whan Idilnelle had tolde all this,
And I had herkened well i-wis,
Than faied I to Dame Idilneffe,
Now all fo wifely God me bleffe,
Sith Mirthe, that is fo faire and fre,
Is in this yerd with his meine,
Fro thilke affemble if I maie
Shall no man wernè me to daie,
That I this night ne mote it fe,
For well wene I there with him be
A faire and jolie companie
Fulfillid of all curtifie.
And forth withoutin wordis mo
In at the wickit went I tho
That Idilneffe had opened me
Into that gardin faire to ſe:
And whan that I was in i-wis
Mine hertè was full glad of this,
For well wenãe I full fikirly
Have ben in Paradife yerthly,
So faire it was, that truftith well
It femed a place efpirituell;
For certis as at my deviſe
There is no place in Paradife
So gode in for to dwell or be
As in that gardin' thoughtin me;
For there was many a birde finging,
Thoroughout the yerde all thringing,
In many placis nightingales,
And alpes, and finches, and wodewales,
That in ther fwetè fong deliten
In thilke places as thei habiten.
There mightin men fe many flockes
Of turtels and of laverockes,
Chalaundris fele yfawe 1.there,
That very nigh forfengin were,
And thruftils, terins, and mavife,
That fongin for to winne 'hem prife,
And cke to furmount in ther fong
That othir birdis 'hem emong;
By note madin faire fervife
Theſe birdis that I you devife;
Thei fong their fong as faire and wele
As angels doen efpirituell;
And truftith me whan Them herde
Full luftie and full well I ferde,
For nevir yet foche melodie
Was herd of nran that mightin die,
Soche fwete fong as was 'hem emong,
That me thought it no bird'is fong,
But it wae wondir like to be
Song of meremaidens of the fe,
That for her finging is fo clere;
Though we Meremaidens clepe "hem here
In Englife, as is our ufance,
Men ciepin 'hem Sereins in Fraunce.
Ententife werin for to fing
Theſe birdis, that not unkonning
Were of ther craft and a prentile,
But of fong fubtill and eke wife;
And certis whan I herd ther fong,
And fawe the grene place emong,
In hert I wext fo wondir gaie
That I was nevir er that daie
Sim
280
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
So jolife nor fo well bigo,
Ne mery' in herte as I was tho;
And than wift I and fawe full well
That Idilneffe me fervid well,
That ine put in foche jolite:
Her frende well ought I for to be
Sithe fhe the dore of that gardin
Had opinid and let me in.
From hennis-forthe how that I wrought
I fhall you tellen as me thought.
Firft whereof Mirthe yfervid there,
And eke what folke there with him were,
Without fable I woll difcrive,
And alle that gardin eke as blive;
I woll you tellen aftir this
The faire faffion all i-wis
That well ywrought was for the nones;
I mai not tell you all at ones,
But as I mai and can I fhall
By order tellin you it all.
;
Full faire fervice, and eke full fwete,
Thefe birdis madin as thei fete
Layis of love full well founing
Thei fongin in ther jargoning;
Some hie and fome eke lowe yfong
Upon the braunchis grene ifprong;
The fweteneffe of ther melodie
Made all mine herte in revelrie,
And whan that I had herd I trowe
Thefe birdis finging on a rowe,
Than might I not withholdin me
That I ne went in for to fe
Sir Mirthe, for all my defiring
Was him to fene ovir all thing;
His countenaunce and his manere
That fight was unto me full dere.
Tho wente I forthe on my right honde,
Doune by a little pathe I fonde
Of mintis full and fenell grene;
As faftè by withoutin wene
Sir Mirthe I founde, and right anon
Unto Sir Mirthe gan I to gon,
Ther as he was him to folace;
And with him in that luftie place
So faire folke and fo freſhe had he
That whan I fawe I wondrid me
Fro whennis foche folke mightin come,
So faire thei werin all and fome,
For thei weren like, as to my fight,
To angels that ben fethered bright.
Thefe folke, of whiche I tell you ſo,
Upon a karole wentin tho;
A ladie karoled 'hem that hight
Gladneffe, the blissfull and the light:
Well could fhe fing and luftily,
None halfe fo well and femily,
And cothe make in fong foche refraining
It fate her wondir well to fing:
Her voice full clere was and full fwete;
She was not rude ne yet unmete,
But couthe inoughe for foche doing
As longith unto karolling,
For ſhe was wonte in every place
To fingin first folke to folace,
For finging mofte ſhe gave her to;
No crafte had ſhe ſo lefe to doe.
Tho mightift thou karollis fene,
And folkè daunce and merie ben,
And made many a faire tourning
Upon the grené graffe fpringing:
There mightift thou fe theſe flutours,
Minſtrallis and eke jogèlours,
That wel to fingin did ther paine :
Some fongin fongis of Loraine,
For in Loraine ther notis be
Full fwetir than in this contre.
There was many a timbeftere,
And failours, that I dare wel fwere
Ycothe ther craft full parfitly;
The timbris up full fubtilly
Thei caftin, and hent them full oft
Upon a fingir faire and foft,
That thei ne fallid nevir mo.
Full fetis damofellis two,
Right yong, and full of femelyhede
In kirtils and none othir wede :
And faire ytreffid every treffe
Had Mirthe ydoen for his nobleſſe
Amidde the carole for to daunce.
But hereof lieth no remembraunce
How that thei daunfid queintly,
That one would come all privily
Ayen that othre', and whan thei were
Togithre' almofte thei threwe ifere
Ther mouthis fo, that through ther plaie
It femid as thei kift alwaie :
To dauncen well couthe thei the gife;
What ſhould I more to you devife?
Ne bode I nevir thennis go
Whiles that I fawe 'hem dauncin fo.
Upon the karoll wondir faft
I gan beholde, till at the laſt
A ladie gan me for to' efpie,
And ſhe was clepid Curtefie,
The worshipfull, the debonaire;
I praie to God er fall her faire !
Full curtifly ſhe callid me,
What do you there, Beau Sire? (quod fhe)
Comith, and if it likith you
To dauncin, daunfith with us now.
And I withoutin tarying
Ywent into the caroling:
I was abafhid ner a dele,
But it to me likid right wele
That Curtefie me clepid fo,
And bade me on the daunce ygo,
For if I hadde durft certain
I would have karollid right fain,
As man that was to daunce right blithe
Than gan I lokin oftè fithe
The shape, the bodies, and the cheres,
The countenaunce, and the maneres,
Of all the folke that dauncid there,
And I ſhall tellin what thei were.
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
281
Full faire was Mirth, full longe and high,
A fairer man I nevir figh:
As round as aple was his face,
Full roddie' and white in every place;
Fetis he was and well befeie,
With metely mouthe, and eyin greie;
His noſe by meſure wrought full right;
Crifpe was his here, and eke full bright;
His fhulderis of large brede,
And fmaliſhe in the girdelſtede;
He femid like a purtreiture,
So noble' he was of his ſtature,
So faire, fo jolie', and fo fetife,
With limmis wrought at poinct deviſe,
Deliver, ſmerte, and of grete might,
Ne fawe thou nevir man fo light;
Of berde unneth had he nothing,
For it was in the firfte ſpring;
Full yong he was, and merie' of thought,
And in famette with birdis wrought;
And with golde bete full fetoufly
His bodie was clad full richely;
Wrought was his robe in ftraungè giſe,
And all to flittered for queintiſe
In many a place, lowe and hie;
And fhode he was with grete maiſtrie
With fhone decopid, and with lace,
By drurie and eke by folace;
His lefe a rofin chapilet
Had made, and on his hedde it fet.
age
And wetin ye who was his lefe?
Dame Gladdeffe there was him fo lefe,
That fingeth ſo well with glad corage,
That from fhe was twelve yere of
She of her love graunt to him made:
Sir Mirthe her by the fingir hade
A dauncing, and ſhe him alfo ;
Grete love there was a twix 'hem two;
Bothe were thei faire and bright of hewe;
She femid like a rofè newe
Of colours, and her fleſhe ſo tender,
That with a brere fmale and tender
Men might it cleve, I dare well fain;
Her forhedde frounciles all plain ;
Bent werin her eye-browis two;
Her eyin graie, and glad alſo,
That laughdin aie in her femblaunt
Firft or the mouthe by covenaunt;
I n'ot what of her nofe diferive,
So faire hath no woman alive;
Her here was yelowe', and clere fhining;
I wot no lady fo liking.
Of orfraies freſhe was her garlande;
I, whiche that fene have a thouſande,
Sawe ner i-wis no garlande yet
So well ywrought of filke as it;
And in an ovir gilt famite
Ycladde fhe was by grete delite,
Of whiche her lefe a robe ywerde;
The merier fhe in herte ferde.
Next her went, on her othir fide,
The god of Love, that can devide
Love, and as him liketh it be;
But he can cherlis dauntin, he,
nd many folkis pridè fallen,
And he can well theſe lordis thrallen,
And ladies put at lowe degre,
When he maie 'hem to proude yſe.
This god of Love of his fafcion
Was like no knave ne no quiitron:
His beutie gretely was to prife,
But of his robis to deviſe
I drede encombrid for to be,
For not icladde in filk was he,
But all in flouris and flourettes,
Ipainted all with amorettes,
And with lofingis and fcochons,
With birdis, liberdes, and lions,
And othir beftis wrought full wele;
His garment was every dele
Ipurtraied and iwrought with floures,
By divers medeling o. coloures;
Flouris there were of many gife
Ifet by compace in a fife;
There lackid no oflure to my dome,
Ne not fo much as floure of brome,
Ne violet, ne eke pervinke,
Ne floure none that men can on thinke;
And many a rofe lefe full long
Was entermedlid there emong;
And alfo on his hedde was fet
Of roſes redde a chapilet.
But nightingales a full grete rout,
That flien ovir his hedde about,
The levis feldin as thei flien,
And he was all with birdis wrien,
With popingaie, with nightingale,
With chalaundre and with wodewale,
With finche, with larke, and with archangel;
He femid as he were an angell
That doun were come fro hevin clere.
Love had with him a bachilere
That he made alwaies with him be,
And Swete Loking cleped was he.
This bachilere ftode beholding
The daunce, and in his honde holding
Turke bowes two, well deviſed, had he;
That one of 'hem was of a tre
That berith fruict of favour wicke;
Full crokid was that foulè fticke,
And knottie here and there alfo,
And blacke as berie' or any flo.
That othir bowe was of a plant
Withoutin wemme I dare warant
Full even' and by proporcion
Trectis and long, and of gode facion,
And it was paintid well and thwitten,
And ore all diaprid and written.
With ladies and with bachileres
Full lightſome and full glad of cheres.
Theſe bowis two held Swete Loking,
That ne femid like no gadling,
And ten brode arowes held he there,
Of whiche five in his hondè were,
But thei were fhavin well and dight,
Nockid and fetherid a right.
And all thei were with golde begon,
And ftrong ypoinctid everichon,
282
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
+
And ſharpe for to ykervin wele,
But iron was there none ne ſtele,
For all was golde, men might it ſe,
Out take the fethers and the tre.
The fwifteft of thefe arowes five
Out of a bowè for to drive,
And the best fethered for to flie,
And faireft eke, was cleped Beutie.
That othir arowe, that hurteth leffe,
Was clepid (as I trowe) Simpleffe.
The thirde yclepid was Fraunchiſe,
That fethered was in noble wife
With valour and with curtifie.
The fowerth was clepid Companie,
That hevie for to fhotin is,
But who fo fhotith right i-wis
Maie therwith doen grete harme and wo.
The fift of theſe, and laſte alſo,
Faire Semblaunt men that arowe call;
'Tis the lefte grevous of 'hem all,
Yet can it make a full grete wounde,
But he maie hope his foris founde
That hurte is with that arowe' i-wis;
His wo the bette beſtowid is
For he maie foner have gladneffe;
His languor ought to be the leffe.
Five arowes were of othir gife
That ben full foule for to deviſe,
For ſhaft and ende, fothe for to tell,
Were all fo blacke as fende in hell.
The first of 'hem is callid Fride;
That othre' arowe next him befide
It was yclepid Vilanie;
That arrowe was with felonie
Envenimed, and with ſpitous blame;
The third of 'hem was clepid Shame;
The fowerth Wanhope yclepid is;
The fift the Newè Thought iwis.
Thefe arowes that I fpeke of here
Werin all five on one manere,
And all were thei refemblable;
To them was well fitting and able
The foulè crokid bowe hidous
That knottie was and all roinous :
That bowe yfemid well to fhete
'The arowes five that ben unmete
And contrary to that othir five;
But though I tellin not as blive
Of ther powir ne of ther might,
Hereaftir fhall I tellin right
The fothe and eke fignifiaunce,
As ferre as I have remembraunce
All fhall be faied I undirtake
Er of this boke an ende I make.
Now come I to my talc againe;
But aldirfirft I woll you faine
The fashion and the countenaunces
Of alle the folke that on the daunce is.
The god of Love, jolife and light,
Ladde on his honde a ladie bright,
Of high prife and of grete degre,
This ladie callid was Beutie;
And an arowe of whiche I tolde
Full well ythewid was the holde;
Ne fhe was derke ne broune, but bright
And clere as is the monè light,
Again whom all the fterris femen
But finall candelis as we demen;
Her flefhe was tendre' as dewe of floure;
Her chere was fimple' as birde in boure,
As white as lilie' or rofe in rife;
Her face was gentill and tretife;
Fetis fhe was, and fmale to fe;
No wintrid browis hadde fhe,
Ne popped here, for it nedid nought
To windir her or to paint ought;
Her treffes yelowe, and long ftraughten,
Unto her heles doune thei raughten;
Her nofe, her mouthe, and eye, and cheke,
Well wrought, and all the remnaunte eke;
A full grete favour and a fote
Me thoughtin in mine herte rote,
As helpe me God, whan I remember
Of the fafiion of every member:
In worlde is none fo faire a wight,
For yong fhe was, and hewid bright
Sore plefaunt, and fetis with all,
And gent and in her middle fmall.
Befide Beute yede Richeſſe,
And hight ladie of grete nobleffe,
And grete of price in every place;
But who ſo durft to her treſpace,
Or till her folke, in werke or dede,
He were ful hardie out of drede,
For bothe fhe helpe and hindir maie;
And that is not of yefterdaie
That riche folke havin full grete might
To helpe and eke to greve a wight.
The best and gretift of valour
Diddin Richeffe full grete honour,
And bufie werin her to ferve,
For that thei would her love deferve;
Thei cleped her Ladie grete and fmall;
This wide worlde her dredith all,
This worlde is all in her daungere;
Her courte hath many' a lofingere,
And many' a traitour envious,
That ben full bufie' and curious
For to diſpreiſin and to blame
That belt defervin love and name;
To forne the folke 'hem to begilen
Theſe lofengeours 'hem prife and fmilen,
And thus the worlde with worde anointen,
Bot aftirward thei prill and poincten
The folke right to the barè bone
Behinde ther backe whan thei ben gone,
And foule abatin folkis prife :
Full many a worthie man and wife
Han hindrid and idoen to die
Thefe lofingeours with ther flatt'erie,
And makith folke full ftraungè be
There as 'hem ought to ben prive ;
Well evill mot thei thrive,
And evill arived mote thei be
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
283
Thefe lofingcours full of envie;
No gode man loveth ther companie.
Richeffe a robe of purple' on had,
Ne trowe not that I lie or mad,
For in this world is none it liche,
Ne by a thoufande dele fo riche,
Ne none fo faire, for it full wele
With orfreis laied was every dele,
And purtraied in the ribaninges
Of dukis ftories and of kinges,
And with a bend of golde taffiled,
And knoppis fine of golde amiled :
About her necke of gentle' entaile
Was fhet the richè chevefaile,
In whiche there was full grete plente
Of tonis clere and faire to fe.
Richeffe a girdle had upon,
The bokill of it was of fton
Of vertue grete and mokil might,
For who fo bare the ſtone fo bright
Of venim durft him nothing doubt
While he the ftone had him about;
That frone was gretely for to love,
And till a riche mann'is behove
Worth all the golde in Rome and Friſe;
The mourdaunt, wrought in noble gife,
Was of a ſtone full precious,
That was fo fine and vertuous
That whole a man it couth ymake
Of pallie and of the tothe ake,
And yet the ftonc had foche a grace
That he was fikre' in every place
All thilke daie not blinde to ben
That fafting might that ftonè fene;
The barris were of gold full fine,
Upon a tiſſue of fatin;
Full hevie, grete, and nothing light,
In everiche was a befaunt wight.
Upon the treflis of Richeffe
Was fet a circle of nobleffe
Of brende golde, that ful light yfhone,
So faire trowe I was nevir note:
But he were konning for the nones
'That could devifin all the ftones
That in that circle fhewin clere;
It is a wondir thing to here,
For no man could or preife or geffe
Of 'hem the value or richeffe :
Rubics there were, faphirs, ragounces,
And emeraudes, more than two unces,
But all before full fubtilly
A fine carboncle fet fawe I,
The ftone fo clere was and fo bright,
That all fo fone as it was night
Men mightin fene to go for nede
A mile or two in length and brede;
Soche light yfprang out of the ftone
That Richeffe wondir bright yfhone
Bothe on her hedde and all her face,
And eke al ut her all the place.
Dame Richeffe on her honde gan lede
A yong man ful of femelyhede
That the belt loved of any thing;
His luft was moche in houfholding;
In clothing was he full fetife,
And loved well to have hors of prife;
He wende to have reprovid be
Of theft or murder if that he
Had in his ftable an hackenaie,
And therfore he defirid aie
To ben aqueintid with Richeffe,
For all his purpoſe, as I geffe,
Was for to makin grete difpence
Withoutin warning or defence.
And Richeffe might it well ſuſtain,
And her difpences wele maintain,
And him alwaie foche plentie fende
Of golde and filvir for to ſpende
Withoutin lacking or daungere
As it were pourde in a garnere.
And aftir on the dauncè went
Largeffe, that fet all her entent
For to ben honourable' and fre:
Of Alexander's kinne was the;
Her mofte joie it was i-wis
Whan that the yafe, and faied, Have this a
Not Avarice, the foule caitife,
Was halfe to gripe ſo ententife
As Largeffe is to yeve and ſpende,
And God alwaie inowe her ſende!
So that the more fhe yave awaie
The more i-wis fhe had alwaie.
Grete locs hath Largeffe, and grete prife,
For bothe the wife folke and unwife
Were wholy to her bandon brought,
So well with yeftis hath the wrought.
And if the had an enemie
I trowe that the couth craftily
Make him full fone her frende to be,
So large of yeftes and wife was fhe;
Therfore fhe ftode in love and grace
Of riche and pore in every place.
A full grete fole is he i-wis
That riche, and pore, and nigard is.
A lorde maie have no manir vice
That grevith more than avarice;
For nigarde ner with ſtrength of hande
Maie winne him grete lordſhipe or lande,
For frendis all to fewe hath he
To doen his will performid be;
And whofo woll have frendis here
He maie not holde his trefour dere;
For by enfample tell I this,
Right as an adamant i-wis
Can drawin to him fubtilly
The iron that is laied therby,
So drawith folkis hertes i-wis
Silvir and golde that yevin is.
Largeffe had on a robe freſhe
Of richè purpure farliniſhe :
Well formid was her face and clere,
And opened had ſhe her colere,
For the right there had in prefent
Unto a lady made prefent
Of a gold broche ful wel ywrought,
And certis it miffate her nought,
For through her fmockeywrought with filke
The fleſhe was fene as white as milke.
284
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE,
Largeffe, that worthy was and wife,
Helde by the honde a knight of priſe
Was fibbe to Arthour of Breteigne,
And that was he that bare the' enfeigne
Of worship and the gonfannoun;
And yet he is of fuche renoun
That menne of him fay faire thinges
Before barons, and erles, and kinges.
This knight was comin al newly
Fro tourneying there faftè by,
Where he had done grete chivalry
Through his vertue and his maiſtrie,
And for the love of his lemman
He cafte doune many a doughty man.
And next him dauncid Dame Franchiſe,
Arayid in ful noble gife:
She n'as not broune ne donne of hewe,
But white as fnowe ifallin newe;
Her nofe was wrought at point deviſe,
For it was gentill and tretife;
With eyin glad, and browis bent;
Her here doune to her helis went ;
And the was fimple' as dove on tre;
Ful debonaire of hert was fhe.
She durfte neither fay ne do
But that that hir belongith to;
And if a manne were in diftreffe,
And for her love in hevineffe,
Her hert would have full grete pite,
She was fo amiable and fre;
For were a manne for her beftadde
She wouldè ben right fore a dradde
That fhe did ovir gret outrage;
But he him holpe his harme t'aſwage
Her thought it all a vilanie:
And ſhe had on a fuckiny
That not of hempe herdis was,
So faire was non in all Arras;
Lorde! it was riddeled fetifly;
There ne was not a point truely
That it n'as in his right affife:
Ful wel iclothid was Fraunchiſe,
For there n'is no clothe fitteth bette
On damofell than doth rokette;
A woman wel more fetife is
In rokette than in cote i-wis;
The white rokette riddilid faire
Betokenith that full debonaire
And fwete was fhe that it ybere.
By her dauncid a bachelere,
I can not tell you what he hight,
But faire he was and of gode hight,
Al had he ben, I faie no more,
The lord'is fonne of Windèfore.
And next that dauncid Curtify,
That preiſed was of lowe and hie,
For nethir proude ne fole was ſhe;
She for to daunce callid me;
I praie God give to her gode grace!
For whan I come firſt to the place
She n'as not nice ne outrageous,
But wife and ware, and vertuous,
Of faire fpeche, and of faire anſwere ;
Was nevir wight miffaide of here;
She bare no rancour to no wight;
Clere broune fhe was, and therto bright
Of face, and body avenaunt;
I wotte no lady fo plefaunt:
She werin worthy for to bene
An empèreffe or crounid quere.
And by her went a knight dauncing
That worthy was and wel fpeking,
And ful wel coude he don honour :
The knight was faire and ſtiffe in ftour,
And in armure a femely man,
And wel beloved of his lemman.
Faire Idilneffe than nexte faugh I,
That alway was me faftè by:
Of her have I withoutin faile
Tolde you the ſhape and appareile,
For, (as I faid) lo! that was fhe
That did to me fo grete bounte;
She me the gate of that gardin
Undid, and let me paffin in,
And aftir dauncid, as I geffe.
And the fulfilled of luftineffè
That n'as not yet twelve yere of age,
With herte wilde and thought volage:
Nice fhe ywas, but fhe ne mente
None harme ne fleight in her entente,
But onely lufte and jolite,
(For yonge folke, wel wetin ye,
Have litill thought but on ther play :)
Her lemman was befide alway
In fuche a gife that he her kifte
At alle timis that him liſte,
That al the dauncè might it fe;
They make no force of privite,
For who fpake of 'hem ill or wele
Thei were afbamid nere a dele,
But men might ſene 'hem kiffe there
As though it two yonge dovis were;
For yonge was thilke bachilere,
Of beute wot I non his perc,
And he was right of fuche an age
As youthe his lefe, and fuche corage.
The lufty folke that dauncid there,
And alfo' othir that with 'hem were,
That werin all of ther meine,
Ful hendè folke, both wife and fre,
And folke of faire porte truely,
There werin alle cominly.
Whan I had fene the countenaunces
Of them that laddin thus thefe daunces,
Than had I will to go and fe
The gardin that ſo likid me,
And lokin on theſe faire laureres,
On pine trees, cedres, oliveres.
The dauncis than endid ywere,
For many' of 'hem that dauncid there
Were with ther lovis went away,
Undir the trees to have ther play.
A lorde thei livid luftily!
A grete fole were he fikirly
That n'olde his thankes fuche life to lede,
For this dare I faine out of drede,
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THE
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285
That who fo might ſo well yfare
For bettir life durft him not care,
For there n'is fo gode paradiſe
Asto' have a love at his devife.
Out of that place went 1 tho,
And in that gardin gan I go,
Playing along full merily.
The god of Love full hastily
Uato him Sete Loking yclept;
No lengir would he that he kept
His bowe of gold that fhone fo bright:
He haddin him bent anon right,
And he full fonè fet an ende,
And at a braide he gan it bende,
And toke him of his arowes five
Tul ſharpe and redy for to drive.
Now God that fitteth in majeſte
Tro dedly woundis he kepe me
Info be that he had me fhete,
For if I with his arowe mete
It had me grevid fore i-wis;
But I, that nothing wift of this,
Went up and doune ful many' a waie,
And he me folowed faſt alwaie;
But no where would I reftè me
Til I had in all the gardin be.
The gardin was by meſuring
Right even' and fquare in compaffing;
It as longe was as it was large;
Of fruite had every tre his charge
But it were any hidous tre,
Of whiche there werin two or thre.
There were (and that wote I full wele)
Of pomgranetts a full grete dele,
That is a frute ful wel to like,
Namely to folke whan thei ben fike;
And trees there werin grete foiſon
That berin nuttes in ther fefon,
Suche as menne Nutemiggis ycall,
That fote of favour ben withall,
And of almandris grete plente,
ggis, and many a date tre,
There werin, if that menne had nede,
Through the gardin in length and brede.
There was eke wexing many' a ſpice,
As clowe, gilofre, and licorice,
Gingiber, and grein de Paris,
Canell, and fetewale of pris,
And many' a ſpice delitable
To etin whan men rife fro table.
And many homely trees there were
That peches, coines, and apples, bere,
Mcdlers, plommis, peris, chefteinis,
Cherife, of whiche many one faine is,
Notis, and aleis, and bolas,
That for to fene it was folas,
With many high laurer and pine,
Was rengid clene all that gardine
With cipris, and with oliveris,
Of which that nigh no plenty here is.
Ther werin elmis grete and ftrong,
Maplis, afhe, oke, afpe, planis long,
+
Fine ewe, popler, and lindis faire,
And othir trees full many a paire.
What ſhould I tell you more of it?
There werin fo many trees yet
That I fhould al encombrid be
Er I had rekenid every tre.
Theſe trees were fet, that I devife,
One from an othir in affife
Five fadome or fixe, I trowe ſo;
But they were hie and gret alſo,
And for to kepe out wel the funne
The croppis were fo thicke ironne,
And every braunche in othir knitte,
And ful of grenè levis fitte,
That funnè might there none diſcende
Left that the tendir graffis fhende.
There might men does and roes iſe,
And of fquirels ful grete plente
From bow to bow alwaie leping;
Connis there were alſo playing,
That comin out of ther clapers,
Of fondry colours and maners,
And madin many' a tourneying
Upon the freſhè graffe fpringing,
In placis fawe I wellis there
In whichè there no froggis were,
And faire in fhadowe was eche wel;
But I ne can the nombre tel
Of ftremis fmal that by deviſe
Mirth had done come thorough condife,
Of whiche the watir in renning
Gan makin a noife ful liking.
About the brinkis of thefe wellis,
And by the ftremes ovir al ellis,
Sprange up the graffe, as thicke ifet
And foft eke as any velvet,
On which men might his lemmen lay,
As on a fethirbed to pley,
For the erth was ful fofte and fwete
Thorough the moiſture of the wel wete
Sprong up the fotè grenè gras
As faire, as thicke, as mifter was ;
But moche amended it the place
That the erth was of fuche a grace
That it of flouris hath plente
That both in fomre'a nd wintir be.
There ſprange the violet al newe,
And freſhe pervink riche of hewe,
And flouris yelowe, white, and rede;
Suche plente grewe there ner in mede:
Ful gaie was al the grounde and queint,
And poudrid as men had it peint,
With many a freſhe and fondry floure,
That caftin up fül gode favour.
I wol not longe hold you in fable
Of al this gardin dilectable;
Imote my tongè ftinten nede,
For I ne maie withoutin drede
Naught tellin you the beutie all,
Ne halfe the bounte, there withall.
I went on right honde and on lefte
About the place; it was not lefte
Till I had all the gardin bene
In the eftris that men might fene.
286
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
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And thus while I went in my playe
The god of Love me folowed aye,
Right as an hunter can abide
The befte till he feith his tide
To fhote at godeneſſe to the dere,
Whan that him nedith go no nere.
And ſo befil I reftid me
Befides a wel undir a tre,
Whiche tre in Fraunce men cal a Pine,
But fince the time of King Pepine
Ne grewe there tre in mann'is fight
So faire, ne fo wel woxe in hight;
In all that yarde fo high was none;
And fpringing in a marble ftone
Had nature fet, the fothe to tell,
Under that pinè tre a well,
And on the bordir al without
Was written in the ſtone about
Letteris fmal, that faidin thus,
Here whilome ftarfe faire Narciffus.
Narciffus was a bachilere
That Love had caught in his daungere,
And in his nette gan him fo ftraine,
And did him ſo to wepe and plaine,
That nede him muft his life forgo
For a fair lady hight Echo
Him loved over any creture,
And gan for him fuche paine endure,
That on a timè fhe him tolde
That if he her ne lovin wolde
That her behovid nedis die;
There laie none othir remedie.
But natheleffe for his beaute
So feirs and dangerous was he,
'That he n'olde grauntin her aſking
For weping ne for faire praying.
And when the herde him werne her fo
She had in hert fo grete wo,
And toke it in fo grete difpite,
That the withoutin more refpite
Was dede anon; but ere fhe diede
Ful piteouſly to God fhe preide
That the proude hertid Narciffus,
That was in love fo daungerous,
Might on a day ben hampered fo
For love, and bene fo hote for wo,
That ner he might to joie attaine,
Than fhould he fele in every vaine
What forow true loveris maken
That ben villainously forfaken.
This prayir was but reſonable,
Therfore God helde it ferme and ſtable,
For Narciffus, fhortly to tell,
By aventure came to that well
To reft him in the fhadowing
O day when he came from hunting.
This Narciffus had fuffrid paines,
For renning all day in the plaines,
And was for thurft in greate diftreffe
Of herte, and of his werineffe,
That had his brethe almoft benomen.
Whan he was to that wel icomen,
That fhadowed was with branchis grehe,
He thought of thilke watir fhene
To drinke, and freſhe him wele withall,
And doune on knees he gan to fall,
And forth his necke and hed outſtraught,
To drinkin of that well a draught;
And in the watre' anone was fene
His nofe, his mouthe, his cyin, fhene,
And he therof was all abaſhed,
His owne fhadowe had him betraſhed,
For wel wende he the forme to fe
Of a childe of full grete beaute :
Full well couth Love him wrekè tho
Of daungir and of pride alfo
That Narciffus fomtime him bere;
He quite him well his guerdon there,
For he mufid fo in the well
That fhortily, the fothe to tell,
He lovid his owne fhadowe fo
That at the laft he ſtarfe for wo;
For whan he fawe that he his will
Might in no manir way fulfill,
And that he was ſo faſtè caught
That he him couthè comfort naught,
He loft his witte right in that place,
And deide within a litill fpace;
And thus his warifon he toke
For the lady that he forfoke.
Ladies, I praie enfample taketh,
Ye that ayenft your love miſtaketh;
If of ther deth you be to wite
Good can ful wel your wilè quite.
Whan this letter, of whiche I tell,
Had taught me that it was the well.
Of Narciffus in his beaute,
I
gan anon withdrawè me
When it fell in my remembraunce
That him betide fuche a mifchaunce;
But at the laſte than thoughtin I
That ſcatheleſſe full fickirly
I might unto the wellè go,
Wherof fhull I abafhin fo?
Unto the welle than went 1 me,
And doune I loutid for to fe
The clerè watir in the ſtone,
And eke the gravel, whiche that ſhone
Doune in th' botom as filvir fine,
For of the welle this is the fine,
In world is none ſo clerc of hewe,
The watre is ever freſh and newe,
That welmith up with wavis bright
The mountenaunce of two fingir hight,
About it is the graffe ſpringing
For moiſte ſo thicke and weil liking
That it ne may in wintir die
No more than may the fee be drie.
་
Doune at the botome fet fawe I
Two criſtal ftonis craftily,
In thilke freſhe and fairè well;
But o thinge fothly dare I telb
That ye woll holde a grete mervaile
Whan it is tolde withoutin faile,
THE ROMAUNT OF THE
287
ROSE.
1
For whan the funnè clere in fight
Caft in that welle his bemis bright,
And that the hete defcendid is,
Than taketh the criftall ftone i-wis
Againe the funne an hundrid hewis,
Blewe, yelow, red, that fresh and new is,
Yet hath the mervailous criſtall
Suche ſtrength that the place ovir all,
Both foule and tre, and levis grene,
And all the yerde, in it is fene :
And for to don you to' undirffonde
To make enfample wol I fonde;
Right as a mirrour opinly
Shewith al thing that ftondeth thereby,
As well the colour as figure,
Withoutin any covirture,
Right fo the criſtall ſtone fhining,
Withoutin any diſceving,
The entrees of the yerde accufeth
To him that in the watir mufeth,
For evir in whiche halfe
ye be
Ye may wele halfe the gardine fe,
And if ye turne ye may right wele
Sene the rem naunt every dele,
For there is none fo litil thing
So hid ne clofia with fhiting
That it n'is fene, as though it were
fainted in the cristall there.
This is the mirrour perillus
In whiche the proude Narciffus
Sey al his faire face fo bright
That made him fith to lie upright,
For who fo loke in that mirrour
There may nothing ben his focour
That he ne fhal there fe fomthing
That ſhal him lede into laughing :.
Bul many' a worthy man hath it
Yblent, for folke of gretift wit
Ben font y caught here and ywaited;
Withouten refpite ben they baited:
Here cemith to folke of newe rage,
Here chaungith many wight corage,
Here lithe no rede ne witte therto,
For Veaus fonne, Dan Cupido,
Hath fowin there of love the fede,
'That helpe ue lithe there non ne rede,
So cerclith it the welle about;
His ginnis hath he fet without,
Right for to catche in his panters
Thefe damofels and bachilers;
Love will none othir birdis catche
Though he fet eithir nette or latche;
And for the fede that here was fowen
This welle is cleped, as well is knowen,
The Welle of Love of very right,
Of whiche there heth ful many wight
Spokin in bokis diverfely;
But thei fhul ner fo verily
Diferipcion of the welle, here,,
Ne cke the fothe of this matere,
As ye thul whan I have undo
The crafte that here belongith to.
1
Alway me likid for to dwell
To fene the chriſtall in the well,
That fhewid me ful opinly
A thouſande thingis faſtè by;
But I may faie in fory houre
Stode I to lokin or to poure,
For fithin I fore have yſikid
That mirrour hath me now entriked;
But had I firſt knowen in my wit
The vertu and ftrengthis of it,
I n'oldè not have mufid there;
Me had bettir ben ellis-where,
For in the fnare I fell anone
That had bitrefhid many one.
In thilkè mirrour fawe I tho,
Among a thouſande thingis mo,
A rofir chargid ful of roſis,
That with an hedge aboute encloſed is;
Tho had I fuche luft and envie,
That for Paris ne for Pavie
N'olde I have left to gone and fe
There gretift hepe of rof be.
Whan I was with this rage yhente,
That caught hath many'a man and fhente
Towarde the rofir gan I go,
And whan I was not ferre there fro
The favour of the rofis fote
Me fmote right to the hertè rote,
As I had all enbaumid me;
And if I n'ad endoutid me
To have ben hatid or affailed
My thankis wol I not have failed
To pull a Rofe of al that route
To berin in mine honde aboute,
And fmellin to it where I went ;
But er 1 dredde me to repent,
And lefte it grevid or forthought
The lorde that thilke gardin wrought.
Of rofis there werin grete wone,
So faire werin nevir in Rone;
Of knoppis cloſe fome fawe I there,
And fome wel bettir woxin were,
And fome there ben of othir moifon,
That drowè nigh to ther fefon,
And fpedde 'hem faftè for to fpredde
I love wel fuche rofis redde,
For brode rofis and open' alfo
Ben paffid in a daie or two,
But knoppis wollin freſhè be
Two daies at left or ellis thre
The knoppis gretely likid me,
For fairir maie there no man fe;
Who fo might havin one of all
It ought him ben ful lefe withall :
Might I garlonde of 'hem getten
For no richeffe I wolde it letten.
Amonges the knoppis I chefe one
So faire, that of the remenaunt none
Ne preife I halfe fo wel as it
Whan I avifin in my wit;
It fo wel was enluminid
With colour red, as well finid
288
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
}
As Nature couth it makin faire,
And it hath levis wel foure paire,
That Kind hath fet through his knowing;
Aboute the redde rofis fpringing
The ftalke ywas as riſhè right,
And theron ftode the knoppe upright,
That it ne bowed upon no fide;
The fotè fmell yfprong fo wide
That it died al the place aboute :
Whan I had ſmelled the favour fote
No will had I fro thence yet go,
But fomdele nere it went I tho
To take it, but mine honde for drede
Ne durft I to the Rofè bede
For thifteles fharpe of many maners,
Netlis, thornis, and hokid briers,
For muche they diftourblid me,
For fore I dradde to harmid be.
The god of Love, with bowe ybent,
That al daie fet had his talent
To purſue and to ſpyin me,
Was ftondin by a figge tre,
And whan he fawè how that I
Had chofin fo ententifely
The bothum more unto my pay
Than any othir that I fay,
He toke an arowe fharpely whette,
And in his bowe when it was fette
He ftreight up to his ere ydrough
The frongè bowe that was fo tough,
And ſhotte at me fo wondir ſmerte
That through mine eye unto mine hcrte
The takil fmote, and depe it wente,
And therwith al fuch colde me hente
That undir clothis warme and ſofte
Sin that day I have chivered ofte.
Whan I was hurte thus in ftounde
I fell doune plat unto the grounde,
Mine herte failid and faintid aie,
And longé time in fwoune 1 laie;
But whan I came out of fwouning,
And hadde my witte and my feling,
I was all mate, and wende full wele
Of blode t' have lorne a full grete dele,
But certes th' arowe that in me ftode
Of me ne drewe no droppe of blode;
For why? I founde my woundes all drie.
Than toke I with mine hondis twee
The 'arowe, and full faft it out plight,.
And in the pulling fore I fight;
So at the laft the fhaft of tre
I drough out with the fethirs thre,
But yet the hokid hedde i-wis,
The whiche Beaute ycallid is,,
Gan fo depe in mine hert pace
That I it ne might not arace,
But in mine hertè ſtill it ftode,
All bledde I not a droppe of blode :
I was bothe anguiflious and trouble
For the perill that I fawe double;
I ne wift what to faie or doe,
Ne get a leche my woundis to,
For neither thorough gaffe ne rofė
Ne had I helpe of hope ne bote,
But to the bothum evir mo
Mine herte drewe, for all my wo
My thought was in none othir thing,
For had it ben in my keping
It would have brought my life again,
For certis evenly, I dare fain,
The fight onely and the favour
Aleggid moche of my languor.
Than gan I for to drawè me
Toward the bothum faire to ſe,
And Love, had gette him in this throwe
An othir arowe into' his bowe,
And for to fhotin gan him dreffe;
The arowes name was Simpleneſſe :
And whan that Love gan nigh me nere
He drowe it up withoutin were,
And ſhote at me with all his might,
So that this arowe anone right
Throughout mine eigh, as it was founde,
Into mine herte hath made a wounde:
'Than I anone did all my craft
For to ydrawin out the fhaft,
And therewithall I fighid eft;
But in mine hert the hedde was left,
Whiche aie encrefid my defire;
Unto the bothum drewe I nere,
And evirmo tha me was wo
The more defire had I to go
Unto the refir, where that grewe
The freſhe bothom fo bright of hewe:
Bettir me were to' have lettin be,
But it behovid nedis me
To doen right as mine hertè badde,
For cr the body muſt be ladde
Aftir the herte in wele and wo,
Of force togithir thei muſt go;
But nevir this archir would fine
To fhote at me with all his pine,
And for to make me to him mete.
The thirde arowe he gan to fhete,
Whan beft his time he might efpie,
The whiche was namid Curtifie,
Into mine herte he did avale:
A fwoune 1 fell bothe dedde and pale;
Long time I laie, and ſtirid nought
Till I abraied out of my thought,
And faſte than I vifid me
To drawin out the fhaft of tre
But aye the hedde was lefte behinde
For ought I couth pull or winde;
So fore it fticked whan I was hit-
That by no crafte I might it flit,
But anguifhous and full of thought-
1
I felt foche wo my wounde aie wrought,
That fomoned me alwaie to go
Toward the Rofe that plefed me fo
But I ne durft in no manere,
Becauſe the archir was fo nere.
For evirmore gladly, as I rede,
Brent child of fire hath mochil drede
And certis yet for all my pein
Though that I figh, yet arowis rein,
L
1
4
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THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
289
And ground quarelis, fharpe of ftele,
Ne for no pain that I might fele,
Yet might I not my felf with hold
The faire rofir to behold,
For Love me yave foche hardiment
For to fulfill his commaundement ;
Upon my fete I roſe up than
Feble as a for wounded man,
And forthe to gon my might I fet,
And for the archir ǹ'olde I let :
Toward the rofit faft I drowe,
But thornis ſharpe mo than inow
There were, and alſo thiftèles thicke,
And breris brimmè for to pricke,
That I ne might ygettin grace
Through the rough thornis for to pace
To fene the roſis freſhe of hewe;
I muft abide though it me rewe:
The hedge about ſo thicke was,
That clofed the rofis in compas.
But o thing likid me right wele,
I was fo nigh that I might fele
Of the bothom the fote odour,
And alſo ſe the freſhe coloure,
And that right gretely likid me
That I fo nere mightin it fe;
Soche joie anon thereof had
That I forgate my malady;
To fene it I had foche delite
Of woe and angre' I was all quite,
And of my woundes that I had thore,
For nothing likin me might more
Than dwellin by the rofir aie,
And thens nevir tó paſſe awaie :
But whan a while I had be thare
The god of Love, whiche all to ſhare
Mine herte with his arowis kene,
Caſteth him to yeve me woundis grene;
He fhote at me full haftily
An arowe namid Companie,
The whichè takîl is full able
To make thefe ladies merciable;
Than I anon gan chaungin hewe
For grevaunce of my woundè newe,
That I again fell in fwouning,
And fighid fore in complaining.
Sore I complained that my fore
On me gan grevin more and more;
I had none hope of allegiance,
So nigh I drowe to difperaunce;
I ne nought of deth ne of life,
Whethir that Love ywould me drife;"
If me a martir wold he make
I might his powir not forfake:
And while for angir thus I woke
The god of Love and arowe toke;
Full ſharp it was and full poinaunt,
And it was callid Faire Semblaunt,
The whiche in no wife would confent
That any lover him repent
JU
To ferve his love with herte and all
For any perill that maie fall :
But though this arowe was kene grounde
As any rafor that is founde
VOL. I.
To cutte and kervin at the point,
The god of Love it had anoint
With a full precious ointment,
Some dele to yeve elegèment
Upon the woundis that he hade
Thorough the eye in my herte made,
To helpe her foris and to cure,
And that thei maie the bette indure;
But yet this arowe without more
Made in mine herte a largè fore,
That in full grete pain I abode,
But aie the ointment went abrode;
Throughout my woundis large and wide
It ſprede about in every fide,
Thorough whoſe vertue and whoſe might
Mine herté joifull was and light;
I had ben dedde and all to fhent
But for the precious ointment.
The thaft I drowe out of the arowe,
Roking for wo right wondir narowe,
But the hedde, whichè that made me ſmerte,
I left behindè in mine herte
With othir fower, I dare well faie,
That nevir woll be toke awaie;
But the ointment halpè me wele,
And yet foche forowe did I fele,
That allè daie I chaungid hewe
Of my woundis fo freſhe and newe;
As men might fe in my viſage:
The arowes were fo full of rage,
So variaunt of diverfite,
That men in evèriche might fe
Both grete anoie and eke fwetneſſe :
And joie ymeint with bittirneffe :
Now were thei efy and now wode;
In them I felt bothe harme and gode;
Now fore without alleggèment,
Now foftining with the ointment:
It foftenid here and prickid there;
Thus efe and angir were yfere.
The god of Love delivirly
Came lepande to me haſtily,
And ſayid to me in grete jape,
Yelde the, for thou maie not eſcape,
Maie no defence availe the here,
Therfore I rede make no daungere :
If thou wolt yelde the hastily
Thou shalt the rathir have mercie;
He is a fole in fikerneffe
That with daungir or with ftoutneſſe
Rebellith there that he ſhould pleſe;
In foche folie is little efe;
Be meke where thou muft nedis bowe;
To ftrive ayen is not thy prowe :
Come at onis, and have idoe,
For I wolle that it be fo ;
Than yelde the here debonairly.
And I anſwerid full humbly,
All gladly, Sir, at your bidding
I woll me yelde in alle thing:
To your fervice I woll me take,
For God defende that I fhould make
T
- I
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
Ayen your bidding refiftence;
I woll not doen fo grete offence,
For if I did it were no fkill;
Ye maie do with me what ye will,
Or fave or ſpill, and alſo flo;
Fro you in no wife may I go;
My life, my deth, is in your honde,
I maie not lafte out of your
bonde;
Plaine at your lifte I yeldè me,.
Hoping in hert that fomtime ye
Comforte and efe fhuld to me fende,
Or els fhortly, this is the ende,
Withoutin helth I mote aie dure】
But if ye take me to your cure :
Comforte or helth how fhuld I have,
Sithe ye me hurte, but ye may fave?'
'The helth of Love mote be yfounde
Where as thei tokin first the wounde
And if ye lifte of me to make
Your prifoner, I woll it take
Of herte and will fully at gre:
Wholy and plaine I yeldè me
Withoutin feining or feintife.
To be governed by you empriſe :
Of you I here ſo mochil prife
I wol ben whole at your devife
For to fulfill all your liking,
And to repentin for nothing,
Hoping to have yet in fome tide
Mercy of that that I abide :
And with that covenaunt yelde I me,
Anon doune kneling on my kne,
Profiring for to kiffe his fete,
But for nothing he would me lete;
And faid, I love the both and preiſe,
Sens that thine anfwere doth me efe,
For thou anſwered fo curtifly;
For nowe I wote well uttily
That thou art gentil by thy fpeche,
For though a man ferre woulde feche,
He should not findin in certaine
No fuche anſwere of no vilaine,
For ſuch a worde ne mightè nought
Iffue out of a vilaines thought:
Thou shalt not lefin of thy fpeche,
For thy helping willin I eche
And eke encrefin that I maie ;
But first I woll that thou obaie
Fully for thine own avauntage
Anone to do me here homage,
And fithin kiffe thou fhalt my mouthe,
Whiche to no vilaine was ner couthe
For to' aproche it ne for to touche;
For faufe of cherlis I ne vouche
"That thei fhal nevir neigh it nere ;
For curteis and of faire manere,
Wel taught and ful of gentilneffe,
He must yben that fhall me kiſſe,
And alfo of ful highe fraunchife
'That fhal atteine to that empriſe.
And firſt of o thing warne I the,
That paine and gret adverfite
He mote endure, and eke travaile,
That fhal me ferve withoutin faile
But there againſt the to comforte,
And with thy fervice to difporte,
Thou maiſt ful glad and joyfull be
So gode a maiſter to' have as nie,
And lorde of fo high renoun;
I bere of Love the gonfenoun,
And of Curtifie the bancre,
For I am of felfe the manere,
Gentill and curteis, meke and fre,
That who evir ententife be
Me to honour, re-doute, and ferve,
And alfo that he him obferve
Fro trefpace and fro villanie,
And him governe in curtifie,
With will and with entencion ;
For when he firſt in my prifon
Is caught, than muſt be uttirly
Fro thennis-forth ful befily
Ycaft him gentill for to be,
Yf he defire helpe of me.
Anone withoutin more delaie,
Withoutin daungir or affraie,
I become his vaffal anone,
And gave him thankes many a one,
And knelid doune with hondis joint,
And made it in my porte full queint :
The joye went to my hert'is rote
Whan I had kiffed his nrouthe fo fote;
I had ſuche mirth and fuch liking
It curid me of languiſhing.
He aſked of me than hoſtages;
I have takin fele homages
Of one and othir where I' have bene,
Diftreinid ofte withoutin wene :
Theſe felons ful of falfite
Have many fithes begilid me,
And through falfhed ther luft achived.
Wher of I repent and am greved:
And I 'hem gettee in my daungere
Ther falfheed fhul thei bie ful dere;
But for I love the' I faie the plaine
I woll of the be more certaine,
For the fore I will now ybinde
That thou away ne fhalt not winde
For to denien thy covenant
Or done that is not avenaunt :
That thou were falfe it wer grete ruth,
Sithe thou femift fo ful of truth.
Sir, if the lifte to underftaunde
I merveile the' aſking this demaunde :
For why or wherfore fhouldè ye
Hoſtage or borowes afke of me,
Or any othir fikirneffe,
Sithin ye wote in fothfaftneffe
That ye me have furprifid fo,
And whole mine herte takin me fro,
That it woll doc for me nothing
But if it be at your bidding?
Miné hert is yours, and mine right nought,
As it behoveth, in dede and thought,
Redy in all to worche your will,
Whethir fo tourne to gode or ill;
So fore it luftith you to plefe
1
No man therof maie you difefe
རེ།
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
291
Te have theron fet foche juftice
That it'is werried in many wife;
And if ye doubt in n'olde obaie
Ye maie therof do make a kaie
And hold it with you for hoſtage,
Now, certis, this is none outrage.
(Quod Love) and fully I accorde,
For of the bedy' he is full lorde
That hath the heite in his trefore;
Outrage it were to afkin more.
Than of his aumener he drough
A little keie fetiſe inough,
Whiche was of gold poliſhed clere,
And faied to me, With this keie here
Thine herte to me now woll I fhet,
For all thy joifull loke and knet
I binde undir this little keie,
That no wight maie cary awaie.
This keie is full of grete poftè,
With whiche anone he touchid me
Undir the fide full foftily,
That he mine hert fodainly
Without any doute hath fo fpered
That yet right nought it hath me dered.
Whan he had doin his will all out,
And I had put him out of dout,
Sir, I faied, I have right grete will
Your luft and pleſure to fulfill,
Loke ye my ſervice takeat gre
By thilk faith ye owe to me;
I faie nought for recreaundiſe,
For I nought doubt of your ſervice.
But this fervaunt travaileth in vain
That for the fervin doeth his pain
Unto that lorde which in no wife
Conne him no thanke for his fervice.
Love fayid tho, Difmaie the nought;
Sithe thou for fuccour haft me fought
In thanke thy fervice woll I take,
And high of degre woll the mak
If Wickedneffe ne hindir the,
But (as I hope) it ſhall nought be;
To worship no wight by' aventure
Maie come but that he pain endure.
Abide and fuffre thy diftreffe
That hurtith now; it ſhall be leffe :
I wote my felf what maie the fave,
What medicine thou wouldiſt have.
And if thy truth to me thou kepe
I thall unto thine helping eke,
To cure thy woundes and make 'hem clene,
Where fo that thei be old or grene;
Thou shalt be holpen', at wordis few,
For certainly thou shalt well fhewe
Where that thou fervift with gode will,
For to acompliſhe and fulfill
My commaundementis daie and night,
Whiche I to lovirs yeve of right.
Ah Sir! for Godd'is love (faied I)
Er ye paffe hens enter tifely
Your commaundementes to me faie,
And I ſhall kepe 'hem if 1 maie,
For them to kepen'is all my thought;
And if fo be I wote'hem nought
Than maie I erre unwittingly;
Wherefor I praie you entirly
With all mine herte me for to lere,
That I trefpace in no manere.
The god of Love than chargid me
Anon, as ye ſhall here and ſe
Worde by worde, by right emprife,
So as The Romaunt fhall deviſe.
The maiftir leĥith time to lere
Whan the diſciple woll not here;
It is but vain on him to fwinke
That on his lerning woll not thinke :
Who fo luft love let him intende,
For now The Romance ginneth to' amende
Now is gode to herin in faie,
If
any be that can it faie,
And poinct it as the refon is
Yfet, for othir gate i-wis
It ſhall nat well in all thing
Be brought to gode underſtanding;
For a reder that poinctith ill
A gode fentence maie o tin 1 il.
The boke is gode at the ending,
Ymade of newe and luftie thing,
For who fo woll the ending here
The craft of Love he fhall now lere,
If that he woll ſo long abide
Till I this Romaunce maie unhide,
And undoe the ſignifiaunce
Of this dremè into Romaunce :
The fothfaftneffe that now is hid
Without coverture ſhall be kid
Whan I undoen have this dreming,
Wherein no worde is of lefing.
Villanie at the beginning
I woll, faied Love, ovir all thing
Thou leve, if that thou wolt ybe
Falfe, and trefpace ayenift me :
I curfe and blame generally
All them that lovin villanie
For villanie makith villaine,
And by his dedes a chorle is feine.
Thefe villains arne without pite,
Frendſhip and love, and all bounte:
I n'ill receive to my fervice
Them that ben vilains of emprife.
But undirftonde in thine entent
That this is not mine entendement
To clepin no wight in no age
Onely gentill for his linage,
But who fo that is vertuous,
And in his port not outragious:
Whan foche one thou feeft the beforne,
Though he be not gentill yborne,
Tij
}
297
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
Thou mayift well feine this in foth
That he is gentill, bicauſe he doth
As longith to a gentil man;
Of them none othir deme I can,
For certainly withouten drede
A chorle is demid by his dede
Or hie or lowe, as ye maie fe,
Or of what kinrid that he be;
Ne faie nought for non evill will
Thing which that is to holdin ftill:
It is no worship to miffeie,
Thou maieft enfample take of Keie,
'That was fomtime for miffaying
Yhatid bothe of old and yong :
As ferre as Gawein the worthie
Was praifid for his curtifie
Kaie was hatid, for he was fell,
Of worde difpitous and cruell;
Wherefore be wife and aqueintable,
Godelie of worde, and reſonable,
Bothê to leffe and eke to mare :
And whan thou comift there men are
Loke that thou have in custome aie
Firft to falue 'hem if thou maie;
And if it fall that of 'hem fomme
Salue the firſt, be thou not domme,
But quite him curtifly anon,
Without abiding, er thei gon.
For nothing eke thy tong applie
To fpekin wordes of ribaudrie:
To vilaine ſpeche in no degre
Late not thy lippe unboundin be,
For I nought holde him in gode faith
Curteis that foulè wordis faith
And alle women ferve and preiſe,
And to thy power there honour reiſe;
And if that any miffayrre
Difpife women that thou maiſt here,
Blame him, and bidde him holde him ftill;
And ſette thy might and al thy will
Women and ladies for to plefe,
And to do thing that may'hem efe,
That thei evir fpeke gode of the,
For fo thou maiſt beſt praifid be.
Loke that fro pride thou kepe the wele,
For thou maift both perceive and fele
That pride is both foly and finne;
And he that pride hath him within
Ne may his hertè in no wife
Mekin, ne fouplin to fervice,
For pride is founde in every parte,
Contrarie unto Lov'is arte;
And he that lovith truily
Should him conteinè jolily
Withouten pride in fondry wife,
And him diſguiſin in queintice;
For queinte aray, withoutin drede,
Is nothin proude, who takith hede,
For Freſhe aray, as men may ſe,
Withouten pride may oftin be.
Maintaine thy felfe aftir thy rent
Of rob and eke of garment,
For
many a fithe faire clothing
A man amendith in muche thinge.
And loke alway that thei be ſhape
(What garment that thou fhalt the make)
Of him that can the beſt ydo,
With al that parteinith therto,
Pointis and fleves be wel fittande
Ful right and ftreight upon the hande
Of fhone and botis newe and faire
Loke at the left thou have a paire,
And that thei fitte fo fetoufly
That theſe rude men may uttirly
Mervaile, fith that thei fitte fo plaine,
How thei come on or of againe :
Were ftreightè glovis, with aumere
Of filke and alway with gode chere
Thou yeve, if that thou have richeſſe,
And if thou have nought ſpende the leſſe
Alway be mery if thou maie,
But waftè not thy god alwaie;
Have hatte of flouris frefhe as May,
Chapelet of roſis of Whitfondaie.
For foche araie cóftnith but lite;
:
Thine hondis wafhe, thy tethe make white,
And let no filthe upon the be:
Thy nails blacke if thou maieſt ſe
Voide it awaie deliviry;
And kembe thine hedde right jolily:
Farce not thy viſage in no wife,
For that of Love is nat th' empriſe,
For Love doeth hatin, as I finde,
A beautie that cometh nat of kinde:
Alwaie in herte I rede the
Ful glad and mery for to be,
And be as joyfull as thou can;
Love hath no joie of forowfull man,
That ill is full of curtific,
That knowith in his maladie
For evir of love the fickeneffe
Is meint with fwete and bittirneffe.
The fore of love is mervailous,
For now the lovir is joious,
Now can he plain, now can he grone,
Now can he finge, now makin mone;
To daie he plaineth for hevineffe,
To morue' he plaineth for jolineffe.
The life of love is full contrarie,
Whiche ftoundè mele can oftin varie;
But if thou canift mirthis make
That men in gre woll gladly take
Do it godely, I commaunde the;
For men fhuld, where fo er thei be,
Doe thing that 'hent befitting is,
For therof cometh gode loos and pris;
Whereof that thou be vertuous
Ne be nat ftraunge ne daungerous;
For if that thou gode ridir be
Prickle glady that men maie the fe:
In armis alfo if thou conne
Purfue till thou a name haft wonne :
And if thy voice be faire and clere
Thou shalt makin no grete daungere;
Whan the to fing thei godely praie
It is thy worship for to' obaic:
Alfo to you it longith aic
To harpe and giterne, daunce and plaic;
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE
293
For if he can well fote and daunce
It maie him gretely doe avaunce,
Emong eke for thy ladie fake
Songis and complaintes that thou make,
For that woll mevin in her herte
Whan that thei redin of thy ſmerte:
Loke that no man for ſcarce the holde,
For that maie greve the manifolde;
Refon woll that a lovir be
In his yeftis more large and fre
Than chorles that ben not of loving;
For who therof can any thing
He ſhall be lefe aie for to yeve,
In londis lore who fo would leve,
For he that through a fodain fight,
Or for a killing anon right,
Yave whole his herte in will and thought,
And to himſelf kepith right nought,
Aftir this ſwift gift 'tis but reaſon
He give his gode too in a bandon.
Now woll I fhortly here reherce
Of that I have yfaied in verce
Alle the fentence by and by
In wordis fewe compendiouſly,
That thou the bet maieft on 'hem thinke
Wher fo it be thou wake or winke,
For the wordis do little greve
A man to kepe whan thei be breve.
Who fo with Love woll gon or ride
He mote be curteis, voide of pride,
Merie, and full of jolite,
And of largeffe a lofid be.
First I joigne the here in penaunce
That evir without repentaunce
Thou fet thy thought in thy loving
To laft withoutin repenting,
And think upon thy mirthis ſwete
That fhall folue' aftir whan ye mete.
And for thou true to Love fhalt be
I will and eke commaund the
That in one place thou fet all whole
Thine herte, withoutin halfin dole,
For trecherie and fikirneffe,
For I loved nevir doubleneffe.
To many' his herte that woll depart
Everiche fhall have but little part,
But of him drede I me right nought
That in one place fettith his thought;
Therefore in o place thou it fet,
And let it nevir thennis flet,
For if thou yeveſt it in lening
I holde it but a wretchid thing;
Therfore yevith it whole and quite,
And thou shalt have the more merite :
If it be lent than aftir foen
The bountè and the thanke is doen;
But in love a fre yevin thing
Requirith a grete guerdoning.
Yeve it in yeft all quite fully,
And make thy gift debonairly,
For men that yeft holdin more dere
That yevin is with gladſome chere.
That giftè nought to praiſin is
That a man gevith mal gre his.
Whan thou haſt yeven thine hert (as I
Have faid the here all opinly)
'Than aventuris fhull the fall
Whiche hard and hevy ben with all;
For ofte whan thou bethinkeft the
Of thy loving, where fo thou be,
Fro folke thou must depart in hie,
That none perceive thy maladie,
But hide thine harme thou muſt alone
And go forth fole and make thy mone.
Thou shalt no while be in o ſtate,
But whilom colde and whilom hate,
Now red as rofe, now yelowe' and fade:
Such forow I trow thou ner had;
Cotidien ne the quarteine
It is not half fo full of peine;
For oftin timis it fhal fal
In love, among thy painis al,
That thou thy felfin all wholly
Foryettin fhalt fo uttirly
That many timis thou shalt be
Still as an image made of tre,
Domme as a ftone, without ftering
Of fote or honde, without ſpeking,
And than fone aftir al thy paine
To memo'rie fhalt thou come againe,
A man abaſhid wondir fore,
And aftir fighin more and more;
For wit thou wele withoutin wene
In fuche a ſtate ful ofte have bene
That have the' evill of love affaide,
Where thorough thou art ſo diſmaide.
Aftir a thought fhal take the fo
That thy love is to ferre the fro,
Thou shalt fa (God) what may this be
That I ne may my lady fe?
Mine hert alone is to her go,
And I abide al fole in wo,
Departid fro mine ownè thought,
And with mine eyin fe right nought.
Alas! mine eien fene I ne may
My carefull hertè to convay;
Mine hert'is guidè but thei be
1 praife nothing what er thei fe;
Shul thei abidin than? why, nay,
But gone and fe without delay
That whiche mine hert defirith ſo,
For certainly but if thei go
I fole my felfe I may well holde
Whan I ne fe what mine hert wolde
Wherfore I wol gone her to fene,
Or efid fhall I nevir bene
But that I have fome tokining.
Than goft thou forth without dwelling
But ofte thou faileft of thy defire
Er thou majeft come her any nere,
And waiſtiſt in vaine thy paffage;
Than falift thou in a newe rage;
For want of fight thou ginnift murne,
And homwarde penfife doft returne.
Tij
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THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
A
In grete mifchefe than fhalt thou be,
For than againe fhal come to the
Sighis and plaintis, with newe wo,·
That no itching prickith the fo;
Who wote it nought he maie go lere
Of them that buyin love fo dere.
No thing thine hert appeſin maie,
That oft thou wolt gone and affaie
If thou maift fene by aventure
Thy liv'is joye, thine hert'is cure;
So that by grace if that thou might
Attaine of her to have a fight
Than fhalt thou done non othir dede
But with that fight thine eyin fede.
That fair frefhe whan thou maift fe
Thinc hert fhal fo ravifhid be
That ner thou woldeſt thy thankis lete,
Ne remove for to fe tha: fwete:
The more thou ſeeſt, in ſothfaſtneffe,
The more thou coviteft that fweteneffe;
The more thine herte brennith in fire
The more thine herte is in defire,
For who confidrith every dele,
It may be likened wondir wele
The paine of love unto a fere,
For evirmore thou neighift nere
In thought, or how fo that it be,
(For very fothe I tel it the)
The hotter evir fhalt thou brenne,
As experience fhall the kenne;
Where ſo comiſt in any cofte
Who is next fire he brennith mofte :
And yet forfothe for al thine hete,
Though thou for lovè fwelte and ſwete,
Ne for no thing thou felin may,
Thou shalt not wille to paffe away;
And though thou go, yet muſt the nede
Thinkin al day on her faire hede
Whom thou behelde with fo gode will,
And holde thy felfe begilid ill
That thou ne haddeft none hardiment
To fhewe her aught of thine entent;
Thine hert ful fore thou wolt difpiſe,
And eke reprove of cowar ife,
That thou fo dull in every thing
Were domme for drede without fpeking.
Thou shalt eke thinke thou diddeit foly
That thou were her fo faft bie
And durft not venture the to ſay
1
Some thing er that thou came away,
For thou haddift no more wonne
To fpcke of her whan thou begonne;
But
yet
if fhe would for thy fake
In armis godely the have take,
It ſhould have be more worthe to the
Than of trefour a grete plente.
Thus fhalt thou morne and eke complaine,
And get enchefon t'o gon againe
Unto thy walke or to thy place
Where thou behelde her fleshly face;
And n'ere for falfe fufpection
Thou woldift finde occafion
For to gone in unto her houſe
Thou arnè than ſo defirous
A fight of her but for to have,
If thou thine honour mightiſt fave,
Or any erande mightift make,
Thidir for thy lov’is fake,
Ful faine thou woldift, but for drede
Thou goeft not, left that men take hede;
Wherfore I rede in thy going,
And alfo' in thine again comming,
Thou be wel ware that men ne wit;
Feine the othir cauſe than it
To go that waie, or faſte bic;
To helin wel is no folie;
And if ſo be it happê the
That thou thy love there maiſtie yſe,
In fikir wife thou her falewe,
Wherwith thy coloure woll tranfmewe,
And eke thy bloud fhal al to quake,
Thy hewe eke chaungin for her fake,
But worde and wit, with chere ful pale,
Shul want for to tellin thy tale;
And if thou maift fo ferforth winne
That thou to refon durft beginne,
And woldiſt ſaine thre thinges or mo,
Thou shalt ful ſcarfly faine the two;
Though thou bethinke the ner fo wele
Thou shalt foryetin yet fomdele.
But if thou dele with trechery,
For falfe lovirs mowe all fully
Sain what 'hem luſt withoutin dred,
Thei be fo double' in ther falfhed,
For thei in hert can thinke o thing
And faine an othre' in ther ſpeking;
And whan thy fpeche is endid all
Right thus to the it fhal befall;
If any worde than come to minde
That thou to fay haft left behinde,
Than thou shalt brenne in grete martire,
For thou shalt brenne as any fire:
This is the ftrife and eke the' affraie,
And the batill, that laſtith aie :
This bargaine ende may nevir take
But if that fhe thy pece wil make.
And whan the night is come anon
A thouſande angres fhal come on:
To bed as faſt thou wolte the dight,
Where thou shalt have but fmal delight,
For whan thou wenift for to flepe
So ful of paine fhalt thou crepe,
Sterte in thy bed about ful widè,
And turne ful ofte on every fide,
Now dounward groufe, and now upright,
And walow in wo the long night:
Thine armis fhalt thou fprede a brede
As man in warre were forwerede;
Than fhal the come a remembraunce
Of her ſhape and of her femblaunce,
Wherto none othir may be pere:
And wete thou wel withoutin were
That the fhal fe fomtime that night
That thou haft her that is fo bright
Nakid bitwene thine armis there,
Al fothfaftneffe as though it were:
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
295
Thou shalt make caftels than in Spaine,
And dreme of joy al but in vaine,
And the delitin of right nought
While thou fo lombrift in that thought
That is fo fwete and delitable,
The whiche in fothe n'is but a fable,
For it ne fhall no while laſt :
Than fhalt thou fighe and wepè faſt,
And fay, Dere God! what thing is this?
My dreme is turnid al amis
Whiche was ful fwete and apparent,
But now I wake it is al fhent;
Now yede this mery thought away;
Twenty timis upon a day
I would this thought would come againe,
For it alegith wel my paine;
It maketh me ful of joyfull thought;
It fleeth me that it laftith nought :
Ah Lorde! whi n'il ye me focoure?
The joye I trowe that I langoure,
The deth I would me fhouldè flo
While I lie in her armis two:
Mine harme is harde withoutin wene,
My gret unefe ful ofte I mene.
But wouldè Love do fo I might
Have fully joye of her fo bright
My paine were quitte me richily.
Alas! to gret a thing afke I;
It is but foly' and wrong wening
To afke fo outrageous a thing,
And who fo afkith folily
He mote be warnid haftily;
And I ne wote what I may fay,
I am fo ferre out of the way,
For I would have ful grete liking
And ful grete joy of laffè thing;
For would the of her gentilneffe
Withoutin more me onis keffe,
It were to me a grete guerdon,
Relefe of all my paffion;
•
But it is harde to come therto;
Al is but foly that I do;
So highe I have mine hertè ſette
Where that I may no comfort gette:
I n'ote wher I fay well or nought,
But this I wote well in my thought,
That it were bette of her alone
For to ftintin my wo and mone:
A loke on her 1 caft godely
Than for to have al uttirly
Of an othir al whole the play.
Ah Lord! where I fhal bide the day
'That ere the fhal my lady be?
He is ful cured that may her fe.
Ah God! whan fhal the daunting ſpringe?
To liggin thus is angry thing;
I have no joy thus here to lie
Whan that my love is not me bie ;
A man to lien hath grete difcfe
Which maie not flepe ne reft in efe:
I would it dawed and were now day,
And that the night were went away,
For were it daye I would up rife:
Ah flow fonne?! fhewe thine enpriſe ;
Spede the to ſprede thy bemis bright,
And chace the derkneffe of the night,
To put away the ftoundis ſtrong
Whiche in me laftin al to long.
The night ſhalt thou continue fo
Withoutin reſt, in paine and wọ;
If er thou knew of love diſtreſſe
Thou mowe lerne it in that fikeneffe;
And thus enduring fhalt thou lie,
And rife on morow up erly
Out of thy bed, and harneis the
Er evir dawning thou maiſt ſe:
Al privily than fhalt thou gone,
What wethre' it be, thy felfe alone,
For reine or haile, for fnowe for flete,
Thidir fhe dwelleth that is fo fwete,
The whiche maie fal a flepè be,
And thinkith but lite upon the:
Than fhalt thou go, ful foule aferde,
Loke if the gate be unfperde,
And waite without in woe and paine,
Full ill a colde in winde and raine:
Than fhalt thou go the dore before,
If thou maifte findin any fhore,
Or hole, or refte, what ere it were;
Than fhalt thou ftoupe and lay to ere
If they within a flepê be,
I mene al fave thy lady fre,
Whom waking if thou maiſt aſpie
Go put thy felfe in jupardie,
To afkin grace and the bimene,
'That fhe maie wete withoutin wene
That thou all night no reſt haft had,
So fore for her thou were beftad.
Women wel ought pite to take
Of them that forowen for ther fake :
And loke for love of that relike
That thou thinkè none othir like,
For whan thou haft fo gret anney
Shall kiffe the er thou go awey,
And hold that in ful grete deinte :
And for that no man fhal the fe
Before the houſe ne in the way,
Loke thou be gon againe er day:
Suchè comming and fuche going,
Suche hevineffe and fuche walking,
Makith lovirs withoutin wene
Undir ther clothis pale and lene.
Love ne leveth coloure ne clereneffe;
Who lovith trewe hath no fatneffe.
Thou fhalt wel by thy felfin fe
That thou muſt nedes affavid be,
For men that ſhape 'hem othir way
Falfely ther ladies to betray
No wondir is though thei be fatte,
With falfe othis ther loves thei gatte,
For ofte I fe fuche lofingeours
Fattir than abottes or priours,
Yit with a thing I wolle the charge,
That is to fay, that thou be large
Unto the maide that her doth ferve;
So beft her thanke thou fhalte deferves
Tiiijj
96
OF THE ROSE.
THE ROMAUNT MAUN
Yeve her geftis, and get her grace,
For fo thou may thankè purchace,
That the the worthy holde and fre,
'The lady' and al that may the fe:
Alſo her fervauntes worſhip aie,
And plefin as muche as thou maie;
Grete gode through them may come to the,
Bicauſe with her thei ben prive;
Thei fhal her tell how thei the fande
Curteis and wife, and wel doande,
And ſhe ſhal preife the wel the more:
Loke out of londe thou be not fore,
And if fuche caufe thou have that the
Behoveth to gone out of countre,
Leave wholely thine hert in hoſtage
Til thou againe make thy paffage :
Thinke longe to fe the fwete thing
That hath thine hert in her keping.
Now have I told the in what wife
A lovir fhal do me fervice;
Do it than if that thou wolt have
The mede that thou doft aftir crave.
Whan Love al this had bodin me
I ſaid him, Sir, how may it be
That lovirs may in fuche manere
Endure the paine ye have ſaid here?
I marvaillin me wondir fafte
How any man may live or lafte
In fuche paine and in fuch brenning,
In forue' and thought, and fuche fighing,
Aie unrelefid wo to make
Wher fo it be thei flepe or wake,
In fuche anoy continuelly;
As helpe me God this mervaile I
How man, but he were made of ftele,
Might live a monthe fuch paines to fele.
'The god of Love than faid to me,
Frende, by the feith I owe to the
May no man lave gode but he' it bie :
A man lovith more tendirlie
'The thing that he hath bought moſt dere;
For wete thou well withoutin were
In thanke that thing is takin more
For which a man hath fuffrid fore:
Certis no wo ne may attaine
Unto the fore of lov'is paine,
None evil therto may amounte,
No more than a man may counte
The droppes that of the watir be,
For drie as wel the gretè fe
Thou mightift as the harmis tell
Of all them that with Love ydwell
In fervice, for peinè them fleeth,
And that eche wouldè fle the deeth,
And trewe thei ſhould nevir eſcape,
Ne were that hope ycouth 'hem make
Glad as a man in prifon fete
And maie not gettin for to ete
But barlic bred and watir pure,
And lieth in vermin and ordure :
With alle this yet can he live.
Gode hope fuche comfort hath him yeve,
Whiche makith wene that he fhal be
Relefed and come to liberte:
In Fortune is fully his truft
Although he lie in ftrawe or duft ;
In hope is al his fuftaining:
So fare lovirs in ther wenning
Whiche Love hath fhitte in his prifoun,
Gode hope is ther falvacioun ;
Gode hope (how forè that thei ſmerte)
Yevith 'hem bothè will and herte
T'offre ther body to martyre,
For hope fo fore doth 'hem defire
To fuffre' eche harme that men devife
For joye that aftirwarde fhall rife.
Hope in defire catche victory,
In hope of Love' is al the glory,
For hope is all that Love maie yeve ;
N'ere hope there fhould no lengir lives
Bleffid be hope! whiche with defire
Avaunceth'lovirs in fuch manire.
Gode hope is curteife for to plefe,
To kepe lovirs from all difefe ;
Hope kepeth his londe, and woll abide
For any peril maie betide,
For hope to lovirs, as moft chefe,
Doth 'hem endurin all mifchefe ;
Hope is ther helpe whan miftir is;
And I fhal yeve the eke i-wis
Thre othir thinges that gret folace
Doth to them that be in my lace.
The first gode that may be yfounde
To them that in my lace be bounde
Is fwetè thought, for to recorde
Thingè wherwith thou canst accorde
Beſt in thine herte, whethir fhe be
Thinking in abſence gode to the.
Whan any lovir doth complaine,
And livith in diftreffe and paine,
Than fwete thought ſhal come as blive
Awaie his angre for to drive;
It makith lovirs have remembraunce
Of comforte and of highc plefaunce
That hope hath hight him for to winne;
For thought anone than fhall beginne,
As ferre God wote as he can finde,
To make a mirrour of his minde,
For to beholde he wol not let,
Her perfon he ſhal force him ſet,
Her laughing eyen perfaunt and clere,
Her ſhape, her forme, her godely chere,
Her mouthe, that is ſo gracious,
So fwete, and eke ſo favirous,
Of al her fetirs fhal take hede,
His eyen with all her limmis fede.
Thus fwete thinking fhal afwage
The paine of lovirs and ther rage;
Thy joye fhal double without geffe
Whan thou thinkiſt on her femelineſſę,
Or of her laughing or her chere,
That to the made thy lady dere:
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
397
This comfort wol I that thou take,
And if the nexte thou wolt forfake,
Whiche is not leffè favirous,
Thou ſhouldeſt not ben to daungirous.
The ſecond ſhal be fwetè ſpeche,
That hath to many one be leche,
To bring 'hem out of wo and were,
And helpe many a bachilere,
And many' a lady fent focour,
That had yiovid paramoure,
Thorough fpeking (whan thei might here)
Of their lovirs to them fo dere;
To me it voidith al ther ſmerte
The whiche is clofid in ther herte;
In hert it maketh 'hem glad and light,
Speche, whan thei mowe not havin fight;
And therfore nowe it cometh to minde
In oldè dawis, as I finde,
That clerkis written that her knewe
There was a lady frefhe of hewe
Whiche of her love madin a fong,
On him for to remembre' among,
In whiche fhe faid, Whan that I here
Spekin of him that is fo dere
To me it voidith allè ſmerte;
Iwis he fittith fo nere myn herte,
To fpek of him at cve or morowę
It curith me of al my forowe;
To me is none fo high plefaunce
As of his perfon daliaunce.
She wift ful wele that fwete fpeking
Comfortith in ful mochil thing;
Her love fhe had full well affaide,
Of him ſhe was ful wel apaide;
To fpeke of him her joye was fet :
Therefore I rede the that thou get
A felowe that can wel concele
And kepe thy counfaile, and welle hele,
To whom go fhewe wholly thine herte,
Both wele and woe, and joye and ſmerte :
To get comforte to him thou go,
And privily bitwene you two
Ye fhal fpeke of that godely thing
That hath thine hert in her keping,
Of her beaute and her femblaunce,
And of her godely continuance;
Of al thy ftate thou fhalt him faie,
And aſke him counfaile how thow maie
Do any thing that maie her pleſe,
For it to the fhal do gret efe,
That he maie wete thou truft him fo
Both of thy wele and of thy wo;
And if his herte to love be fette
His companie is moche the bette,
For refon wol he fhewe to the
Al uttirly his privite,
And what she is he lovith fo
To the plainly he ſhal undo,
Withoutin drede of any ihame
Both tell her renome and her name;
Than ſhall he forthir ferre and nere,
And namely to thy lady dere
In fikir wife ye every other
Shal helpin as his owne brother
In trouthe withoutin doubleneffe,
And kepin clofe in fikirneffe;
For it is noble thing in fay
To have a man thou darftè fay
Thy privy counfaile every dele,
For that well comforte the right wele;
And thou shalt holde the wel apaied
Whan fuche a frende thou haft affaied.
The thirde gode of grete comfort,
That yevith lovirs moft difport,
Comith of fight and beholding,
That is yclepid Swete Loking,
The whiche may none efe ydo
Whan thou art ferre thy lady fro,
Wherfore thou plefe alway to be
In place where thou maift her fe,
For it is thing moft amirous
Mofte delitable' and favirous,
For to affwage a mann'is forow
To fene his lady by the morow;
For it is a ful noble thing
Whan that thine eyin have meting
With that relike fo precious
Whereof thei be fo defirous,
But al daie aftir fothe it is
Thei have no drede to faren amis;
Thei dredin neither winde ne raine,
Ne non othir manir of paine;
For whan thine eyen were thus in bliffe
Yet of ther curtifie iwife
Alone thei can not have ther joye♣
But to the herte thei convoye
Parte of ther bliffe, to him thou fende
Of all this harme to make amende,
The eye is a gode meffangere,
Which can to the' hert in fuch manere
Tidingis fende, that he hath fene
To voide him of his painis clene,
Wherof the hert rejoyfith fo
That a grete partie of his wo
Is voided, and put away to flight;
Right as the derkene fle of the night
Is chafed with clereneffe of the mone,
Right fo is al his wo ful fone
Devoidid clene whan that the fight
Beholdin may that freſhe wight
Whiche that the hert defirith fo,
That al his derkeneffe is ago,
For than the herte is all at eſe
When thei fene that that maie 'hem plefe.
Now have I declared the al out
Of that thou were in drede and doute,
For I have tolde the faithfully
What the may curin uttirly,
And all lovirs that wollin be
Faithful and of ſtabilite;
Gode Hope alway kepe by thy fide,
And Swetè Thought make eke abide,
Swett Loking and Swetè Speche,
Of al thine harmes thei fhal be leche :
398
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
น
Of bale thou fhalt have grete plefaunce
Yf thou canst bide in fuffiraunce,
And fervin wele without feintiſe;
Thou shalt be quite of thine empriſe
With more guerdoun if that thou live,
But al this time this I the yeve.
The god of Love, whan al the day
He' had taught me as ye have herd fay,
And enfermid compendiouſly,
He vaniſhed al fodainly,
And I alone ylefte al fole,
So full of complaint and of dole,
For I fawe no man there me by.
My woundes me grevid wondirſly;
Me for to cure nothing I knewe
Save the bothum fo bright of hewe,
Wheron was fette wholly my thought;
Of othir comforte knewe I nought,
But it were through the god of Love;
I knew nat elſe to my behove
That might me efe or comfort gette
But if he would him entermette.
'The rofir was withoutin doute
Yclofid with an hedge without,
As ye to forne have herde me faine,
And faſt I befied and would faine
Have paffid the hay, if I might
Have gettin in by any fleight,
To the bothum fo faire to fe,
But evir I dradde blamed to be
Yf men would have fufpection
That I would of entencion
Have ftole the rofis that there were,
Therefore to entre' I was in fere;
But at the laſte, as I bethought
Whethir I 'fhuldè paffe or nought,
I fawe come, with a gladdè chere,
To me a lufty bachilere
Of gode ftature and of gode height,
And Bialacoil forfoth he height;
Sonne he was to Curtifie,
And he me grauntid ful gladlie
The paffage of the uttir hay,
And faide, Sir, how that ye may
Paffe, if that it your wille ybe,
The freſhè rofir for to ſe,
And ye the fwetè favour fele,
Your warrant I may be right wele;
So thou the kepin fro folie
Shal no man do the vilanie;
Yf I mai helpin you in ought
I fhall not faine, dredith right nought,
For I am bounde to your fervice
Fully devoide of all feintife.
Than unto Bialacoil faide I,
I thank you, Sir, ful hertily,
And your beheft I take at gre
That
ye fo godely profir me;
Το
it cometh of grete fraunchif
you
That ye me profir your ferviſe.
Than aftir ful delivirly
Through the brcris anone wentķ
Wher of encombrid was the haie;
I was well plefed, the ſothe to faie,
To fe the bothum faire and fote
So freſhe yfprung oute of the rote.
And Bialacoil me fervid wele
Whan I fo nigh me mightin fele
Of the bothum the fwete odoure,
And fo lufty hewed of coloure;
But than a chorle, foule him betide!
Befide the rofis gan him hide,
To kepe the rofis of that rofere,
Of whom the name was Daungere.
This chorle was hid there in the greves,
Ycovirid with graffe and leves,
To fpie and take whom that he fonde
Unto that rofir put an honde.
He was not fole, for there was mo,
For with him werin othir two
Of wickid manirs and ill fame;
That one was clepid by his name
Wickid Tonge, God yeve him forowe!
For neither at eve ne at morowe
He can of no man gode yſpeke;
On many' a juſte man doth he wreke.
There was a woman that eke hight
Shame, that who can rekin right
Trefpace ywas her fathir's name,
Her mothir Refon; thus was Shame
Ybrought forth of theſe ilkè two,
And yet had Trefpace nere adoe
With Refon, ne nere leie her by,
He was hidous and fo ugly;
I menè this, that Treſpace hight,
But Refon conceveth of a fight
That Shame of which I fpake aforne:
And whan that Shame was thus yborne
It was ordained that Chaſtite
Should of the rofir lady be,
Whiche of the bothums more and las
With fondrie folke affailid was,
That fhe ne wiftè what to doe,
For Venus her affailith fo
That night and daie fro her fhe ftall
Bothoms and rofis ovir all:
To Refon than praieth Chaſtite,
Whom Venus hath flemed ore the fe,
That the her doughter would her lene
To kepe the rofir freſhe and grene.
Anon Refon to Chaſtite
Is fully' affentid that it be,
And grauntid her at her requeft
That Shame, bicaufe fhe is honeſt,
Shall kepir of the rofir be;
And thus to kepe it there were thre,
That none ſhould hardie be ne bolde
(Were he yonge or were he olde)
Again her will awaie to bere
Bothoms ne rofis that there were.
I had well ſped had I nat ben
Awaitid with theſe thre and fene,
For Bialacoil, that was fo faire,
So gracious and debonaire,
THE ROMAUNT
299
OF THE ROSE.
Quitte him to me ful curtifly,
Ana me to plefin badde that I
Should draw to the bothom nere;
Freſe in to touchin the roſere
Whiche bare the rofe he yafe me leve;
This graunt ne might but litill greve;
And for he fawe it likid me
Right nigh the bothom pullid he
A lefe all grene, and yave me that,
The whiche full nigh the bothom fat:
I madin of that lefe full queint,
And whan I felt I was aqueinte
With Bialacoil, and fo prive,
I wende all my will had ybe,
Than wext I hardie for to tell
To Bialacoil how me befell
Of Love that toke and woundid me,
And fayıd, Sir, ſo mote I the,
I maie no joie have in no wife
Upen no fide, but it ariſe
For fithè (if I fhall not faine)
In herte I have had fo grete paine,
So grete anvie, and foche affraie,
That I ne wotte what I fhall faie;
I drede your wrothe to deſerve;
Levir me were that knivis kerve
My bodie fhould in pecis ſmall
Than in any wife it fhould fall
That ye wrothid fhould ben with me.
Saie boldily thy will, (quod he)
I n'll be wrothe, if that I maie,
For nought that thou shalt to me faie.
Than faied I, Sir, not you difplefe '
To knowin of my grete uneſe,
In which onl. Love hath me brought,
For painis grete, difefe, and thought,
Fro daie to daie it doeth me drie;
Suppofith not, Sir, that I lie;
In me five woundis did he make,
The fore of whiche fhall nevir flake
But ye the bothom grauntè me
Whiche is moft pauffaunt of beaute,
My life, my deth, and my martyre,
And trefour that I mofte defire.
Than Bialacoil, affrayid all,
Sayid, Sir, it maie not befall
That ye defire; it maic not riſe;
What would ye fhende me in this wife?
A mokill folè than I were
If I fuffrid you' awaie to bere
The freſhe bothom ſo faire of fight,
For it were neithir ſkill ne right
Of the rofir ye broke the rinde,
Or take the Roſe aforne his kinde:
Ye are not curteis to afke it;
Let it ftill on the rofir fit;
Let it growe till it' amendid be,
And perfitly come to beaute;
I n'olde not that it pullid were
Fro the rofir that doth it bere,
To me it is fo lefe and dere.
With that anon ftert out Daungere
*
;
;
Out of the place where he was hidde
His malice in his chere was kidde:
Full grete he was, and blacke of hewe,
Sturdie and hidous, who ſo' him knewe;
Like ſharpe urchons his here was growe,
His eyes red-ſparcling as fire glowe;
His noſe frounçid full kirkid ftode
He come criangle as he were wode,
And faied, Bialacoil, tel me why
Thou bringift hidir ſo boldely
Him that fo nigh to the rofere?
Thou worchift in a wrong manere;
He thinkith to diſhonour the;
Thou art well worthy to 'have malgre
To let him of the rofere witte :
Who fervith Fellone is ill quitte.
Thou woldiſt have doen grete bounte,
And he with fhame would quit the.
Flie hens, felowe; I rede the go;
It wantith lite he wol the flo,
For Bialacoil ne knewe the nought
Whan the to ferve he fet his thought,
For thou wolt ſhame him if thou might
Bothe again refon and 'gainſt right:
I woll no more in the affie
That comeſt ſo ſlightly for t' eſpie,
For it provich wondirly wele
Thy fleight and trefon every dele.
I durft no more make there abode
For the chorl, he was fo wode:
So gan he threttin and manace,
And through the haie he did me chace,
For fere of him I trembled and quoke,
So chorlifhely his hedde he fhoke,
And faied, If eft he might me take
I ſhould nat from his hondis fcape,
Than Bialacoil is filed and mate,
And I all fole difconfolate
Was left alone in pain and thought;
Fro ſhame to deth I was nigh brought:
Than thought I on my high folie,
How that my bodie uttirlie
Was yeve to paine and to martire,
And therto had I fu grete ire,
That I ne durft the hayis paffe;
There was no hope, there was no grace ;
I trowe nevir man wifte of pain
But he were laced in Lov'is chain,
Ne no man wift, (and foth it is)
But if he love, what angir is,
Love holdeth his hefte to me right wele;
Whan pain (he fayid) I ſhould fele
No herte maie thinke no tongè ſain
A quartir of my wo and pain;
I might not with the angir laſt;
Mine herte in point was for to braft
Whan I thought on the Rofe, that fo
Was thorough Daungir caft me fro.
A long while ftode I in that ſtate,
Till that me fawe fo madde and mate
The ladie of the highè ward,
Whiche from her toure lokid thidirward,
Refon men clepin that lady,
Whiche from her toure delivirly
*
300
THE ROMAUNT OF THE RÓSE.
Came-doune to me withoutin more;
But the was neither yong ne hore,
Ne high ne lowe, ne fatte ne lene,
But beft, as it were in a mene :
Her eyin two were clere and light
As a candill that brennith bright;
And on her hedde fhe had a croune;
Her femid well an high perfoune,
For round environ her crounet
Was full of riche ftonis afret;
Her godely femblaunt by deviſe
I trowe was made in Paradiſe,
For Nature had nevir foche grace
To forge a worke of foche compace;
For certain, but if the' lettir lie,
Grete God himſelf, that is fo hie,
Formid her aftir his image,
And yafe her fithe foche avauntage
That the hath might and feignorie
To kepè men from all folie:
Who fo woll trowè wele her lore
Ne maie offendin nevirmore.
And while I ftode thus derke and pale
Refon began to me her tale :
She faied, Al haile, my fwetè frende!
Folie and childhod woll the fhende,
Whiche the have put in grete afraie
Thou haft bought dere the time of Maie,
That made thin herte merie to be;
In evill time thou wentelt to fe
The gardin whereof Idilneffe
Ybare the keie and was maiftreffe,
Whan that thou yedift in the daunce
With her, and haddin acquaintaunce;
Her acquaintance is perillous,
Firft foft, and aftir full noious;
She hath the trafhid without wene;
The god of Love had the nat ſene,
Ne had Idilneffe the conveide
Within the verge where Mirthe him pleide ;
If Folie have furprifid the
Doe ſo that it recovered be,
And be well ware to take no more
Counfaile that grevith aftir fore:
He' is wife that woll himſelf chaſtiſe.
Though a yong man in any wife
Trefpaffe emong end doe folie,
Let him nat dwelle, but haftilie
Let him amende what fo be mis;
And eke I counfaile the i-wis
The god of Love wholly foryete,
That hath the in foche pain yfete,
And the in herte tourmentid fo;
I can not fene how thou maieft go
Othir waies the to garifoun,
For Daungere, that is fo feloun,
Fellie purpoſeth the to werreie,
Whiche is fulle cruill, fothe to ſeic,
And yet of Daungere cometh no blame;
In reward of my daughtir Shame,
Whiche hath the rofis in her warde,
As he that maie be no mufarde,
And Wickid Tong is with theſe two,
That fuffrith no man thidir gog
For er a thing be doe he ſhall,
Where that he comith ovir all,
In fourtie placis, if' it be fought,
Saie thing that nere was don ne wrought,
So moche traifon is in his male,
Of falfeneffe for to faine a tale.
Thou deleft with angrie folke i-wis,
Wherefore to the bettir is
From thefe folkis awaie to fare,
For thei woll make the live in care;
This is the ill that Love thei call,
Wherein there is but folie all,
For love is folie every dell;
Who loveth in no wife maie doc well,
Ne fet his thought on no gode werke ;
His ſchole he lefeth if he be clerke,
Or othir craft if that he be
He fhall not thrive therein, for he
In love fhal have more paffioun
Than monke, or hermite, or chanoun.
This pain is herd out of mefure ;
The joie maie no while endure;
And eke in the poffeffion
Is mochil tribulacioun ;
The joie it is fo short lafting,
And but in hape is the getting;
I fe there many in travaile
That at the laft fhall fouly faile;
I was nothing thy counſailer,
Whan thou were made the homager
Of god of Love to haftily,
Where was no wifedome but folie;
Thine harte was jolie but not fage
Whan thou were brought in foche a rage
To yelde the up fo redily
To Love of his grete maiſtiry,
I rode the Love awaie to drive,
That maketh the reche not of thy live;
The folie more fro dai to daie
Shall growe but thou it put awaie;
Take with thy tethe the bridill faſte
To daunt thy herte, and eke the caſte,
If that thou maieſt, to get defence
For to redreffe thy first offence;
Who fo his herte alwaie woll leve
Shall finde emong that ſhall him greve,
Whan I her herd thus me chaſtiſe
I anſwerde in full angrie wife,
I prayid her ceffe of her fpeche
Eithir to chaſtiſe me or teche,
To bidde me my thought refrein,
Whiche Love hath caught in his demein;
What wenin ye Love woll conſent
(That me affeyith with bowe bent)
To drawe mine herte out of his honde,
Whiche is fo quickly in his bonde?
That ye counfaile maie nevir be, •
For whan he first arcftid me
He toke mine herte fo fore him till
That it is nothing at my will ;
THE ROMAUNT OF THE
3CX
ROSE.
He taught it fo him for to' obeie
That he it fparrid with a keie.
I praie you let me be all ſtill,
For ye maie well, if that ye will,
Your wordis waſte in idilneffe,
For uttirly, withoutin geffe,
All that ye faine is but in vain;
Me were levir die in the pain
Than Love to meward ſhould arette,
Falfhede or trefon on me fette :
I woll me gettin pris or blame,
And love true for to fave my name :
Who me chaſtifith I him hate.
With that worde Refon went her gate,
Whan fhe fawe for no fermoning
She might me fro my folie bring:
Than difmayid I left all fole,
For-werie, for-wandred, as a fole,
For I ne knewe no cherifaunce :
Than fell into my remembraunce
How Love ybadde me to purveie
A felawe to whom I might feie
My counfaile and my privite,
For that fhould moche availin me.
With that bethought I me that I
Yhad a felaw faſtè by
True and fikir, curteis and hende,
And he called was by name a Frende;
A truer Felawe was no where none.
In hafte to him I went anone,
And to him all my wo I told,
Fro him right nought I would withold,
I tolde him all withoutin were,
And made my compleint on Daungere,
How for to feie he was hidous,
And to meward contrarious,
The which through his cruilte
Was in point to have meimid me,
With Bialacoil whan he me feic
Within the gardin walke and pleie
Fro me he made him for to go,
And I be left alone in wo;
I durft no lengir with him ſpeke,
For Daungir faied he would be wreke
Whan that he fawe how that I went
The freſhè bothom for to hent,
If I were hardie to come nere
Bitwene the haie and the rofere.
This frende, whan he wift of my thought,
Fle difcomfortid me right nought!
But faied, Felawe, be nat fo madde,
Ne fo abaſhid nor beſtadde ;
My felfe I knowe full well Daungere,
And how that he is fiers of chere,
;
At primè temps, Love to manace;
Full oft I have ben in his cafe
A felon firſt though that he be,
Aftir thou shalt him fouple fe:
Of long paffid I knewe him welc;
Ungodelie first though men him fele
He woll meke aftre' in his bering
Ben for fervice and obeifing:
I fhall the tell what thou fhalt doo;
Mekely I rede thou go him to,
Of herte praie him fpecially
Of thy trefpace to have mercie,
And hotin him well here to pleſe,
That thou shalt ner more him difpleſe :
Who can beft ferve of flatiry
Shall pleſe Daungir moſt uttirly.
My frende hath faied to me fo wele
That he me efid hath fomedele,
And eke allegged of my tourment,
For through him had I hardiment
Again to Daungir for to go,
To preve if I might make him fo.
To Daungir cam I all afhamed,
The whiche aforne me had yblamed,
Defiring for t' apeſe my wo,
But over hedge durſt I nat go,
For he forbode me the paffage :
I founde him cruill in his rage,
And in his honde a grete bourdoun ?
To him I knelid lowe adoun,
Full meke of port and fimple' of chere,
And faied, Sir, I am comin here
Only to aſk of you mercie;
It grevith me full gretily
That evir I have wrathid you,
But for to' amende I am come now,
With all my might bothe loude and ſtill
To doin right at your own will,
For Love madin me for to do
That I have treſpaſſed hidirto,
Fro whome I ne maie drawe mine herte,
Yet fhall I nere for joie ne fmerte
(What fo befall me, gode or ill)
Offendin more again your will;
Levir I have endure difefe
Than doe that whiche fhould you difplefe.
I you require and praie that ye
Of me have mercie and pite,
To ftint your ire that grevith ſo,
That I woll fwere for evirmo
To be redreffed at your liking
If I trefpace in any thing,
Save that (I praie the) grauntè me
A thing that maie nat warnid be,
That I maie love all onily,
None other thing of you afke I;
I fhall doin all wele i-wis,
If of your grace you graunt me this,
And that ye maie nat lettin me,
For well wote ye that love is fre,
And I fhall loven foche that I will,
Who evir like it well or ill,
And yet ne would I for all Fraunce
Doe thing to doe you difplefaunce.
Than Daungir fill in his entent
For to foryeve his male talent,
But all his wrathe yet at the laſt
He hath relefed, I praied fo faſt.
Shortly, (he fayid) thy requeſt
Is nat to mokill diſhoneſt,
30%
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
Ne I woll nat wernin it the,
For yet nothing engrevith me;
For though thou love thus evirmore
To me is neithir foft ne fore:
Love where the lift, what rechith me?
So ferre thou fro my rofis be;
Truft not on me for none affaie
In any time to paffe the haic.
Thus hath he grauntid my praiere :
Than went I forthe withoutin were
Unto my frende, and told him all
Whiche was right joifull of my tale.
(He faied) Now goeth well thine affaire,
He shall to the be debonaire ;
Though he aforne was difpitous
He fhall hereaftir be gracious;
If he were touched on fome gode vein
He fhould yet rewin on thy pein:
Suffir, I rede, and no boſte make
Till thou at gode mes maieft him take.
By fuffraunce and by wordis foft
A man maie ovircomin oft
Him that, aforne he had in drede,
In bokis fothly as I rede.
Thus hath my frende with grete comfort
Avauncid me with high diſport,
Whiche would me gode as moche as I;
And than anon full fodainly
I toke my leve, and ftreight I went
Unto the haie, for grete talent
I had to fene the freſhe bothom
Wherein laie my falvacion,
And Daungir toke kepe if that I
Kepe him covinaunt truily:
So fore I drede his manafing
I durft not brekin his bidding,
For left that I were of him fhent
I brake not his commaundiment,
For to purchaſin his gode will
It was for to comin there till;
His mercie was to ferre behinde
Ykept, for I ne might it finde :
I complainid and fighid fore,
And languifhid evir the more,
For I ne durft nat ovir go
Unto the Roſe I lovid fo,
Throughout my deming uttirly
That he had knowlege certainly :
Than Love me ladde in fochè wife
That in me there was no feintife
Ne falfhedde, ne no trecherie,
And yet he full of villanie,
And of difdaine and cruilte,
On me ne would have no pite
His cruill will for to refrain,
Tho I wept aie and me complain.
And while I was in this turment
Were come of grace, by God yſent,1
Dame Fraunchife, and with her Pite,
Fulfilde the bothom of bounte:
Thei go to Daungir anon right
To ferthir me with all ther might,
And helpe me in worde and in dede,
For well thei fawe that it was nede.
Firft of her gracê Dame Fraunchife
Ytakin hath of this emprife;
She faied Daungit, grete wrong ye doc
To worch this man fo mochil woe,
Or pinin him fo angirlie,
fhold
It is to you grete vilanie;
I can not fę ne why ne how
That he hath trefpaffed again you,
Save that he loveth, wherefore ye
The more in charite' of him hold:
The force of Love maketh him do this;
Who would him blame he did amis
He levith more than he maie doe;
His pain is harde ye maie fe lo !
And Love in no wife would confent
That he have powir to repent,
For though that quicke ye would him flc
Fro Love his herte ne maie nat
go.
Now, fwet Sir, it is your efe
Him for to angir or difefe.
Alas!hat may it you avaunce
To doen to him fo grete grevaunce?
What worſhip is' it again him take,
Or on your man a werrè make,
Sithe he fo lowlie every wife
Is redy as ye lufte deviſe?
If Love have caught him in his lace,
You for t' obaie in every cace,
And ben your fubject at your will,
Should ye therfore willin him ill?
Ye thould him ſparin more all out
Than him that is bothe proude and ftout s
Curtefie would that ye fuccoure
Them that ben meke undir your cure a
His berte is hard that woll not meke
Whan men of mekeneſſe him befeke.
This is certain, fayid Pite,
We fe oft that humilite
Bothe ire and alfo felonie
Venquifh'eth, and alſo' melancolie,
To ftondin forthe in foche dureſſe
This cruilte and wickedneffe;
Wherefore I praie you, Sir Daungere,
For to maintein no lengir here
Soche cruill werre again your man,
As wholly your's as er he can,
Nor that ye worchin no more wo
On this caitife languiſhing ſo,
Whiche woll no more to you trefpace,
But put him wholly in your grace:
And his offence ne was but lite;
The god of Love it was to wite
That he your thrall fo gretely is:
If ye him harme ye doen amis,
For he hath had full hard penaunce
Sith that ye reft him th' aquaintaunce
Of Bialacoil, his moſt joie,
Whiche all his pains might acoie :
He was before anoyid fore,
But than ye doublid him well more,
}
THE ROMAUNT OF THE
303
ROSE.
For he of bliffe hath ben ful bare
Sith Bialacoil was fro him fare :
Love hath to him done grete diftreffe,
He hath no nede of more dureffe:
Voidith from him your ire I rede;
Ye maie not winnin ir this dede :
Maketh Bialacoil repaire again
And havith pite on his pain,
For Fraunchiſe woll, and I Pite,
That mercifull to him ye be;
And fithe that ſhe and I accorde
Have upon him mifericorde,
For I you praie, and eke moneſte,
Nought to refufin our requeſte,
For he is hard and fell of thought,
That for us two woll doe right nought.
Daungir ne might no more endure,
He mekid him unto meſure.
I woll in no wife, faieth Daungere,
Denie that ye have afkid here,
It were to grete uncurtifie;
I woll ye have the companie
Of Bialacoil, as ye devife;
I woll him lettin in no wife.
To Bialacoil than went in hie
Fraunchiſe, and faied full curtifie,
Ye have to long yben deignous
Unto this lovir and daunge'rous,
Fro him to withdrawe your prefence,
Whiche hath doe to him grete offence,
That ye not would upon him ſe,
Wherfore a forowfull man is he :
Shape ye to paie him and to pleſe,
Of my love if ye woll have efe:
Fulfill his will: fith that ye knowe
Daungir is dauntid and brought lowe
Through helpe of me and of Pite
You dare no more aferde to be.
I ſhall doin right as ye will,
Saieth Bialacoil, for it is ſkill,
Sith Daungir woll that it fo be;
Than Fraunchiſe hath him fent to me.
Bialacoil at the beginning
Saluid me in his comming;
No ftraungèneffe was in him fene
No more than he ne' had wrathid ben;
As faire femblaunt than fhewed he me,
And godely, as aforne did he,
And by the honde withoutin doubt
Within the haie right all about
He lad me with a right gode chere,
All environ on the vergere
That Daungere had me chafid fro.
Now have I leve ovre' all to go,
Now am I raiſed at my devife
Fro hell up unto paradife.
Thus Bialacoil of gentilneffe
With all his pain and buſineſſe
Hath fhewid me onely of grace
The eftirs of the fotè place.
I ſawe the Roſe, whan I was nigh,
Was gretir woxin and more high,
Freſhe and roddy, and faire of hewe,
Of colour evir illiche newe:
And whan I had it longè fene
I ſawe that through the levis grene
The Rofè fpred to ſpanniſhing,
To fene it was a godely thing,
But it ne was ſo ſprede on brede
That men within might knowe the fede,
For it covert ywas and clofe
Bothe with the leves and with the Rofe ;
The ſtalke was even' and grene upright,
It was thereon a godely fight,
And well the bettir without wene
For that the fede was not yfene:
Full faire it fprad, the god of Bleffe,
For foche an othir as I geffe
Aforne ne was, ne more vermaile;
I was abawed for marveile,
For er the fairir that it was
The more l'am boundin in Love's laas,
Long I abode there, fothe to faie,
Til Bialacoil I gan to praie,
Whan that I fawe him in no wife
To me to warnin his fervice,
That he to me would graunt a thing
Whiche to remembre' is well fitting,
This is to faine, that of his grace
He would me yeve leifar and ſpace,
To me that was fo defirous
To have a kiffing precious
Of the fo godely freſhe rofe
That fo fwetely fmelleth in my noſe,
For if it you diſpleſid nought
I woll gladly, as I have fought,
Havin a kiffe therof frely
Of your yeftè, for certainly
I woll none have but by your leve,
So lothe me werre you for to greve.
He fayid, Frende, fo God me fpede,
Of Chaftite I have foche drede,
Thou ſhouldeft not warnid be for me,
But I dare not for Chaſtite;
Again her dare I not mifdoe,
For alwaie biddith fhe me fo
To yeve no lovir leve to kiffe,
For who thereto may winnen, i-wiffe
He of the furplus of the praie
May live in hope to get ſome daie;
For who fo kiffing maie attain
Of lov'is pain hath (foth to fain)
The beft and the mofte avinaunt,
And erneft of the reminaunt.
Of his anfwere I fighid fore,
I durfte affaie him tho no more,
had fuche drede to greve him aie;
A man fhould not to muche affaie
To chafe his frende out of mefure,
Nor put his life in avinture;
For no man at the firſt ſtroke
Ne may not fel adoune an oke,
Nor of the reifins have the wine
Till
grapes be ripe and well a-fine,
A
304
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
1
Be fore empreffed, I you enfure,
And drawin out of the preffure :
But I, forpeinid wondir ſtrong,
Thoughtè that I abode right long
Aftir the kiffe in paine and wo,
Sith I to kiffe defirid fo ;
Till that rewing on my diftreffe
There comin Venus the goddeffe,
(Whiche aie weryith Chaſtite)
Came of her grace to focour me,
Whofe might is knowin ferre and wide,
For fhe is mothir of Cupide,
The god of Love, as blinde as ftone,
That helpith lovirs many one.
This lady brought in her right honde
Of brenning fire a blafing bronde,
Whereof the flame and hotè fire
Hath many' a lady in deſire
Of love ybrought, and fore yhette,
And in her, fervice her herte fette.
This lady was of gode entaile,
Right wondirful of apparaile ;
By her atire fo bright and ſhene
Men might perceivin well and fene
She was not of religioun;
Nor I n'il makin mencioun
Nor of her robe nor of trefour,
Of broche ne of her riche attour,
Ne of her girdle' about her fide,
For that I n'il not long abide;
But knowith well that certainly
She was arrayid richily;
Devoide of pride certaine ſhe was;
To Bialacoil fhe went a paas,
And to him ſhortely in a clauſe
She fayid, Sir, what is the cauſe
Ye ben of porte fo daungirous
Unto this lovir and dainous,
To graunt him nothing but a kiffe?
To warne it him ye done amiffe,
Sithe well ye wotin how that he
Is Love's fervaunt, as ye may ſc,
And hath beaute, wher through he is
Worthy of love to have the blis.
How he' is femely beholde and ſe,
How he is faire, how he is fre,
How he is fote and debonaire,
Of age yonge, lufty and faire :
There is no lady ſo hauteine,
Ducheffe, counteffe, ne chaftèlaine,
That I n'olde her ungodely
For to refuſe him uttirly.
His brethe is alfo gode and fwete,
And his lippes roddy; are thei mete
Only to plaine and not to kiffe?
Graunt him a kiffe of gentilneffe.
His teth arne alſo white and clene;
Me thinkith wrong withoutin wone
If ye now warne him, truftith me,
To graunte that a kiffe have he;
The laffe ye helpe him that ye hafte,
And the more timè fhul ye waſte.
Whan the flame of the very bronde
That Venus brought in her right honde
Had Bialacoil with his hete fmeie
Anone he bade me without lete,
And grauntid me the Rofe to kiſſe,
Than of my paine I ganne to liffe,
And to the Rofe anon went I,
And kiflid it ful faithfully.
1
Nede no man afke if I was blith
Whan the favour fo fofte and lith
Stroke to mine hert withoutin more,
And me alleggid of my fore,
So was I ful of joye and bliffe;
It is faire fuche a floure to kiffe ;'
It was fo fote and favirous
I might not be fo anguifhous
That I mote glad and joly be;
Whan that I do remembre me
Yet evre' among (fothly to faine)
I fuffre noie and mochil paine.
The fe may nevir be fo ftill
But with a litill winde at will
May ovirwhelme and tourne alfo
As it were wode in wawis go;
Aftir the calme the trouble fone
Mote folow, and chaunge as the mone.
Right fo fareth Love, that felde in one
Holdeth his ancre, for right anone
Whan thei in efe wene beft to live
They ben with tempeft all fordrive.
Who fervith Love can tell of wo
The ſtoundmele joye mote ovirgo;
Now he hurtith and now he cureth,
For felde in o pointe Love endureth.
Now it is right me to procede
How Shame gan medle and take hede,'
Through whom fel angirs I have hade,
And how the ſtronge wall was made,
And the caftell of brede and length,
That god of Love wan with his ſtrength:
Al this in Romaunce will I fet,
And for no thing ne will I let,
So that it liking to her be
That is the floure of all beaute,
For ſhe may beft my labour quite
That I for her love fhal endite.
Wickid Tonge, whiche that the covine
Of every lovir can devine
Worfte, and are addith more fomdele,
(For wickid tonge faith nevir wele)
To mewarde bare he right grete hate,
Eſpying me erly and late,
Til he hath fene the gretè chere
Of Bialacoil and me ifere :
He ne might not his tonge withſtonde
Worfe to reportin than he fonde,
He was fo ful of curfid rage:
It fat him wele of his linage,
For him an Iriſhe woman bare :
His tonge was filid ſharpe and ſquare,
And right poignaunt, and right kerving,
And wondir bittir in fpeking;
For whan that he me gan efpic
He ſwore (affirming fikirly)
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
305
Etwene Bialacoil and me
Was ill aquaintaunce and prive:
He fpake therof fo folitic
That he awakid Jeloufie,
Whiche all afraied in his rifing,
Whan that he herdè the jangling,
He ran anon as he were wode
To Bialacoil there that he ftode,
Which had levir in this cas
Have ben at Reines or Amias
For fote-hote in his felonie
To him thus faidè Jeloufie;
"Why haft thou ben fo negligent
"To kepin, whan I was abfent,
"This vergir here lefte in thy warde?
"'Io me thou haddiſt no regarde
"To truft (to thy confuſion)
“Him thus, to whom fufpection
"I have right grete, for it is nede,
"It is well fhewid by the dede :
cr
"Grete faute in the now have I founde;
By God anon thou fhalt be bounde,
"And faftè lockin in a touṛe,
"Withoutin refuite or focoure.
"For Shame to long hath be the fro;
"Ovir fonè fhe was ago;
"Whan thou haft loft both drede and fere
"It femid well fhe was not here,
For fhe was befy in no wife
"To kepin the and to chaftice,
"And for to helpin Chaſtite
"To kepe the rofir, as thinketh me,
"For than this boie knave fo boldly
"Ne fhouldè nat have be hardy,
"Ne in this vergir had fuche game,
"Which now me tournith to grete ihame."
Bialacoil n'is what to faie,
Ful faine he would have fled awaic,
For fere have hyid, ne'ere that he
All fodainly toke him with me;
And whan I fawe that he had fo
This Jeloufie takin us two,
I was aftoned, and knewe no rede,
But fledde away for very drede.
Than Shame came forth ful fimpilly;
She wende have trefpaced ful gretely,
Humble' of her porte, and made it fimple,
Wering a vaile in ftède of wimple,
As nonnis done in ther abbey:
Bicauſe her hert was in affray
She gan to fpeke within a throwe
To Jeloufie right wondir lowe.
Firſt of his grace the him befought,
And ſayid, Sir, ne levith nought
Wickid Tongè, that falfe efpie,
Which is fo glad to faine and lie ;
He hath you made through flatiring
On Bialacoil a falfe lefing;
His falfneffe is not nowe a newe,
is to lenge that he him knewe;
VOL. I.
This ne is not the firſte daie,
For Wickid Tonge hath cuſtome aie
The yongè folkis to bewrie,
And falfe lefingis on 'hem lie.
Yet nere-theleffe I fe among
That the foigne it is fo long
Of Bialacoil, hertis to lure
In Lov'is fervice for to' endure,
Ydrawing fuche folke him to
That he hath nothing with to dó,
But in fothneffe I trowè nought
That Bialacoil had er in thought
To do trefpace or vilanie,
But for his mothir Curtifie
Hath taught him evir for to be
Gode of aqueintaunce and prive,
For he lovith none hevineffe,
But mirth and play, and all gladneffe;
He hatith eke alle trechours,
And foleine folke and envious,
For ye wele wetin how that he
Wol evir glad and joyful be
Honeftly with folke to pley:
I have be negligent in fey
To chaftife him, therfore now I
Of herte ycrie you here mercy,
That I have ben fo rechiles
To tamin him withouten lees;
Of my foly I me repent;
Now wol I whole fet mine entent
To kepin bothè low and ftill
Bialacoil to do your will.
O Shame! o Shame ! faide Jeloufie,
To be bitrafhed grete drede have I;
Lecherie hath yclombe fo hie,
That almoft blerid is mine eic:
No wondir is if drede have I,
Ovir all reignith Lechery,
Whofe might growith night and dey
But in cloiftre and in abbey;
Chaftite' is werried ovir all,
Therefore I woll with fikir tvall
Clofe both the rofis and rofere;
. I have to long in this manere
Lefte 'hem unclofid wilfully,
Wherfore I am right inwardly.
Sorowfull, and repentè me;
But now thei fhall no lengir be
Unclofid; and yet I drede fore
I ſhall repentè ferthi̇rmore,
For the game goith all amis;
Counfaile I mufte newe i-wis:
I have to long ytruftid the,
But now it fhal no lengir be,
For he may beſt in every cofte
Decevin that men truftin mofte :
I' fe well that I am nigh fhent
But if I fet my full entent
Some remedie for to purveic,
Wherfore clofin I fhall the wey
From them that woll the Rofe efpie;
And come to waite me vilonie;
For now in god faith and in trouth
I wol not lettin for no ſouth,
I
!
306
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
To live the more in fikerneffe,
Do make anon a fortireffe,
Than clofe the rofis of gode favour;
In middis fhal I make a tour
To put Rialacoil in prifon,,-
For cvir I drede me of trefon:
I trow I fhal him kepe fo
That he fhal have no might tò go
About to makin companie
To them that thinke of vilanic,
Ne to no fache as hath ben here
Aforne, and found in him gode chere,
Whiche han affailid him to fhende,
And with ther towandife to blende:
A fole is eith to begile;
But may
I live a litil while
He fhal forthinke his faire femblaunt;
And with that worde came Drede Avaunt,
Which was abafhed, and in grete fere
Whan he wift Jeloufte was there;
He was for drede in fuche affray
That not a worde durfte he fay,
But quaking ftode ful ftil alone,
(Til Jeloufie his way was gone)
Save Shame, that hiin not forfoke ;
Both Drede and the ful forê quoke,
That at the laftè Drede abraide,
And to his cofin Shamè faide :
Shame, (he faid) in fotlifaftneffe
'To me it is gret hevineffe
'That the noife is fo ferre ygo,
And eke the felaundir, of us two;
But fithin that it is befall,
We maic it not' againe call
When onis fprongin is a fame;
For many' a yere withoutin blame
We have ben, and many a day,
For many an Aprill, many' a May,
We han ypaffid nothing thated,
Til Jeloufie hath us yblamed
Of mistrust and fufpection
Caufeleffe, without enchefon:
Go we to Daungir haftily,
And let us fhewe him opinly
That he hath not aright ywrought
When that he fette not his thought
To kepin bettir the purprife;
In his doing he is not wife;
He hath to us do grete wrong,
That bath fullirid now fo long
Lialacoil to have his will
Alle his luftis to fulfill:
He mu amende it uttirly,
Or els fhal he vilainously
Exilid be out of this londe ;
For he the werre maic not withftonde
Of Jelousie, nor bere the grefe,
Sithe Bialacoile is at mifchefe,
To Daungir, Shame and Drede anon
The right way ben both ygon;
The chorle thei foundin 'hem aforne
Ligging undir an hawethorne ;
1
Undir his hede no pilowe was
But in the ftede a truffe of gras;
He flombrid, and a knappe he toke,
Til Shamê pitoufly him fhoke,
And grete manace on him gan make.
Why flepift thou whan thou fhould wake?
(Quod Shame) thou doeft us vilanie
Who truftith the he doth folie
To kepè rofis or bothoms
Whan thei ben faire in ther fefons:
Thou arte woxe to familiere
Wher thou fhould be ftraunge of chere
Stoute of thy porte, redy to greve :
Thou doeft gret folie for to leve
Bialacoil here inne to call
The yongir man to fhenden us all :
Though that thou flepe we mowin here
Of Jeloufie grete noife here:
Art thou now late? rife up an hie,
And ſtoppe fone and delivirly
Alle the gappis of the hay;
Do no favour I do the pray ;
It fallith nothing to thy name
To'make fayre ſemblaunt where thou mayſte blame,
If Bialacoil be fwete and fre,
Doggid and fel thou fhouldift be,
Forward and outragious i-wis;
A chorle chaungith that curteis is :
This have I herde oft in faying,
That man ne maie for no daunting
Make a ſperhauke of a bofarde :
Al men wol hold the for mufarde
That debonaire have foundin the :
It fitteth the nought curteis to, be:
To do men plefaunce or ferviſe
In the it is recreaundife:
Let thy werkis ferr and nere
Be like thy name, whiche is Daungere.
Than als abofhid in fhewing
Anon ſpake Drede, right thus faying,
And fayid, Daungir, I drede me
That thou ne woltè befy be
To kepin that thou haft to kepe :
Whanthou ſhouldeft wake thou art a-flepe
Thou fhalt be grevid certainly
'If the afpyin Jeloufic,
Or if he findè the în blame
He bath to day affailid Shame,
And chafed away with grete manace
Bialacoil out of this place,
And fwerith fhortly that he fhall
Encloſe him in a ſturdy wall;
And al is for thy wickidneffe,
For that the failith ftraungèneffe ;
Thine hert I trowe be failid all;
Thou shalt repent in ſpeciall,
If Jeloufie the fothê knewe,
Thou shalt forthinke and fore rewe.
With that the chorle his clubbe gon ſhake,
Frowning his eyin gan to make,
And hidous chere, as man in rage;
For yre he brent in his viſage :
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
307
Whan that he herde him blamid fo
He ſaid, Out of my wit I go,
To be difcomfité I' have grete wrong;
Certis I have now lived to long
Sithe I may not this clofir kepe:
Al quicke I would de dolvin depe
Yf any man fhall more repayre
This gardin for foule or fayre;
Mine hert for ire goith a-fere
That I let any entre here:
I have do foly now I fe,
But now it fhal amended be:
Who fettith fote here any more
Truly he fhall repent it fore,
For no man more into this place
Of me to entre fhall have grace;
Levir I had with fwerdis twaine
Throughout mine hert in every vaine,
Percid to be with many' a wounde
Than flouthe fhould in me be founde :
From hennisforth by night or dey
I ſhall defende it if I may
Withoutin any excepcion
Of eche manir condicion,
And if I it any man graunte
There holdith me for recreaunte.
Than Daungir on his fete gan ftonde
And hent a burdon in his honde;
Wroth in his ire ne left he nought,
But through the vergir he hath fought
If he might findin hole or trace
Where through that memote forth by pace,
Or any gappe, he did it clofe;
That no man might touchin a Roſe
Of the rolir alle about,
He hittith every man without,
Thus day by day Daungir is wers,
More wondirfull and more divers,
And fellir eke than evre' he was,
For him ful oft I finge alas!
For I ne may nought through his ire
Recovir that I mofte defire;
Mine hert, alas! wol breft a-two,
For Bialacoil I wrathid fo;
For certainly in every membre
I quake whan that I me remembre
Of the bothom whiche that I wolde
Ful oft a day fene and beholde;
And when I thinke upon the kiffe,
And how much joie and how much bliſſe,
I hadde through the favour fwete,
For want of it I grone and grete:
Me thinketh I fele yet in my nofe
The fotè favour of the Roſe,
And now I wote that I mote go
So ferre the freſhe flouris fro,
To me ful welcome were the dethe,
Abfence therof (alas! me flethe;
For whilom with this Rofe, alus !
I touchid nofe, and mouthe, and face,
But now the deth I muft abide :
But Love confent an othir tide
R
That onis I touche maie and kiffe
I trow my paine fhal nevir liffe ;
Theron is all my covetiſe,
Whiche brent my hart in any
any wife ;
Now fhal repaire againe fighing,
Long watche on nightes, and no fleping,
Thought in wifhing, turment, and wo,
With many' a tourning to and fro,
That halfe my paine I cannot tell,
For I am fallin into hell
From paradiſe and welthe; the more
My turment grevith, more and more
Anoyith now the bittirneffe
'That I to forne have felte fwetneffe:
And Wickid Tonge throughe his falfhede
Ycaufith all my wo and drede;
On me he lieth a pitous charge,
Bicaufe his tongè was to large.
Now is it time fhortly that I
Tel you fomthing of Jeloufy,
That was in grete fufpection:
About him lefte he no mafon
That ſtone could laie, ne no querrour,
He hirid 'hem to make a tour;
And first the rofis for to kepe
About 'hem mede he a diche depe,
Right wondir large, and alſo brode,.
Upon the whichè alfo ftode
Of fquarid ftone a fturdy wall,
Whiche on a cragge was foundin all,
And right grete thickneffe eke it bare;
About it was yfoundid fquare
An hundrid fadome' on every fide;
It was al liche both long aud wide
Left any time it were affailed
Ful wel about it was batailed,
7
And rounde environ eke were ſet
Ful many a riche and faire tournet:
At every cornir of this wall
Was fet a tour full principall,
And evèriche had without fable
A portcolife defenfable,
To kepe of en'emies, and to greve
That there ther forcè would yprave.
And cke amidde this purprife
Was made a tour of grete maiftrife,
A fairir faugh no man with fight,
Large and wide, and of grate might:
Thei draddè nought nonè affaut
Of ginn or gonn, nor of fkaffaut :
The tempereure of the mortere
Was made of lycoure wondir dere,
Of quicklime perfaunt and egre,
Which temprid was with vinegre.
The ftone was harde of adamaunt
Wherof thei made the Rundemaunt;
The tour was rounde made in compas;
In al this world no richir was,
Ne bettir ordained therewithall :
About the tour was made a wall,
So that betwixt that and the toure
Rofis were fet of fwete favoure,
With many rofis that thei bere :
And eke within the caftil were
U ij
3
308
ROSE,
THE
OF THE
ROMAUNT
Springoldis, gonnes, bowes, and archers,
And eke about at the corners
Men feinin ovir the wall ftonde
Gret engins, which ywere nere honde,
And in the kernils here and there
Of arblaſtirs grete plentie were;
None armour mighte ther ſtroke withftonde,
It were foly to prefe to honde;
Without the diche were liftis made
With wal batailid large and brade,
For men and horfe fhould not attaine
To nigh the diche ovir the plaine.
Thus Jelofie hath environ
Yfett about his garnifon
With wallis rounde and dichè depc,
Onely the rofir for to'kepe,
And Daungir bothe erly and late
The keys kept of the uttir gate,
The whiche opened towarde the eft,
And he had with him at the left
Thurty fervauntes echone by name.
That othir gate was kept by Shame,
Whiche opinid, as it was couthe,
Towardis the parte of the fouthe,
Sergeauntes affignid were here to
Full many, her will for to do:
Than Dredè had in her baillie
The keping of the conftable'rie
Towarde the north I underſtonde,
That opened upon the lefte honde,
The whiche for nothing may be fure
But if the do her befy cure
Erly on mor'we', and alſo late,
Strongly to fhette and barre the gate,
Of every thing that ſhe may fe
Drede is aferde where fo the be,
For with a puffe of litill winde
Drede is aftonied in her minde,
Therfore for fteling of the Roſe
I rede her nat the yate unclofe:
A foul'is flight would make her flc,
And eke a fhadowe, if fhe' it fe.
Than Wickid Tonge, full of envy,
With foudiers of Normandy,
As he that caufith all debate,
Was kepir of the fourthè gate,
And alfo to the tothir thre
He went ful ofte for to ſe.
Whan his lotte was to walke a night
His inftrumentis would be dight
For to blowin and makin foune
Oftir than he hath enchefoune,
And walkin oft upon the wall,
Cornirs and wickittes ovir all
Ful narowe ferchin and efpic:
Though he nought fonde yet would he lie
Diſcordaunt er fro armonie,
And diffonid fro melodie;
Controve he would, and foulè faile
With hornpipis of Cornewaile ;
In floitis made he difcordaunce,
And in his muſike, with miſchaunce?
He wouldè feine with notis newe
That he ne fonde no woman trewe,
Ne that he fawe nere in his life
Unto her huſbonde a trewe wife,
Ne none fo ful of honefte
That ſhe n'il laugh and mery be
Whan that ſhe hereth or may eſpic
A man ſpekin of lecherie ;
Evèriche of 'hem hath ſome vice
One is diſhoneſt, t'other nice;
Yf one be ful of vilanie,
An othir hath a co'rous eie;
If one be ful of wantoneſſe,
Anothir is a chidireffe.
Thus Wickid Tonge, God yeve him fhame
Can put 'hem everichone in blame
Without defert, and caufileſſe :
He lieth though thei ben giltileffe :
I have pity to fene the forowe
That wakith bothe evin and morowe
To innocentes doth fuche grevaunce,
I pray God yeve him evil chaunce!
That he evir fo befy is
Of
any woman to' feine amis.
Eke Jeloufie may God confounde?
That hath makid a toure fo rounde,
And made about a garifon,
To fette Bialacoil in prifon,
The whiche is thette there in the tour.
Ful long to holde ther fojour,
There for to livin in penaunce;
And for to do him more grevaunce,
Whiche hath ordainid Jeloufie,
An olde vecke for to efpie
The manir of his governaunce,
The whiche devil in her infaunce
Had lernid all of Lov’is arté,
And of his pleyis take her parte :
She was expert in his fervife;
She knewe eche wrenche and every gife
Of Love, and every ſecret wile;
It was right harde her to begile.
Of Bialacoil fhe toke aie hede,
That er he liveth in wo and drede
He kepte him coye and cke prive,
Left that in him fhe hadd³ ſe
Any lite foly countinaunce,
For fhe knew all thc oldè daunce.
And aftir this whan Jeloufie
Had Bialacoil in his baillie,
And ſhette him up that was fo fre,
For fure of him he would ybe,
He truftith fore in his caftell,
The ftronge werke him likith well;
He dradde nat that no glotons
Should ftele his rofis or bothoms;
The rofis weren affurid all,
Defencid with the ſtrongè wall;
Now Jeloufie full well may be
Of drede devoide in liberte ş
{
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
209
Whether that he or flepe or wake
Of his rofis may none be take.
But I (alas!) now morne ſhall
Bicaufe I was without the wall:
Ful mochil dole and mone I made;
Who fo had wift what wo I had
I trowe he would have had pite;
Love all to dere had foldè me;
The gode that of his love had I
I went about it al queintly,
But nowe through dubling of my paine
I fe he woll it fell again,
And me a newè bargain lere,
The whiche all out the more is dere
For the folace that I have lorne
Than I had it nevir aforne :
Certain I am full like in dede
To him that cafte in yerth his fede,
And hath joie of the newe ſpringing
Whan it grenith in the ginning,
And is fo faire and frefhe of floure,
Luftie to fene, fote of odoure,
But er he it in thevis fhere
Maie fall wethir that ſhall it dere,
And makin it to fade and fall
The ſtalke, the greine, and flouris all,
That to the tiller is fordoen,
The hope he had conceved to fonc.
I drede certaine that ſo fare I,
For hope and travaile fikirly
Ben me birafte all with a ftorme:
The floure n'ill fedin of my corne,
For Love hath ſo avauncid me,
Whan I began my privite
To Bialacoil all for to tell,
Whom I ne founde froward ne fell,
But toke agre all whole my plaie;
But Love is of ſo harde affaie,
That all at ones he revid me
Whan I wened beft above to' have be.
It is of Love as of Fortune,
That chaungith oft, and n'ill contune,
Whiche whiloni will on folke ſmile,
And glombe on 'hem an othir while;
Now frende now foe thou shalt her fele,
For a twincling tournith her whele.
She can writhin her hedde awaie;
This is the concourfe of her plaie,
She can areife that doith mourne,
And whirle adoune and ovirtourne
Who fittith hieſt but as her luft:
A fole is he that woll her truft,
For it is I that am come doune
Through charge and revolucioun ;
Sithe Bialacoil mote fro me twin,
Shette in her prifon yonde within,
His abfence at mine herte I fele,
For all my joie and all mine hele
Twas in him and in the Roſe,
That but you woll, whiche him doeth cloſe,
Opin, that fo I maic him fe,
Love woll not that I curid be
Of the painis that I endure,
Nor of my cruill avinture.
Ah, Bialacoil, mine own dere!
Though thou be now a prifonere,
Kepith at left thine herte to me;
Suffir not that it dauntid be,
Ne let not Jeloufie' in his rage
Puttin thine hcrte in no fervage :
Although he chaſtice the without,
And make thy bodie to him lout,
Have herte as harde as diamaunt,
Stedfaſt and ſtout, and naught pliaunt :
In priſon though thy bodie be
At largè kepe thine herte fre:
A trewê hert ne will not plie
For no manace that it maie drie:
If Jeloufie doith the pain
Quite him his wilè thus again,
To venge the at left in thought,
If othir waie thou mayift nought,
And in this wife full fubtillie
Worchin and winne the maiftiry.
But yet I am in grete affraie
Left thou fholdeſt nat doe as I faie,
I drede thou canft me grete maugre
That thou enpriſoned art for me,
But yet right nought for my trefpas,
For through me nere difcovered was
Yet thing that ought to be fecre:
Well more annoiè is in me
Than is in the of this miſchaunce,
For I endure more hard penaunce
Than any man can faine or thinke,
That for the forowe' almofte 1 finke:
Whan I remembir me' of my wo
Full nigh out of my witte I go.
Inward mine herte I fele blede,
For comfortleffe the deth I drede:
Owe I nat wel to have diftreffe
Whan falfe through ther wickidneſſe,
And traitours, that arne envious,
To noien me be fo coragious?
Ah, Bialacoil! full well I fe
That thei 'hem fhape to deceve the,
To make the buxum to ther lawe,
And with ther corde the to drawe
Where fo 'hem luft, right at ther will;
I drede thei have the brought there till:
Withoutin comfort thought me flaeth;
This game would bring me to my deth,
For if that I your gode will lefe
I mote be dedde, I maie not chefe,
And if that thou foryctè me
Mine herte fhall nere in liking be,
Nor ellifwhere findin folace:
If I be put out of your grace,
As it fhall nevir ben I hope,
Than fhuldin I fall in wanhope.
Alas, in wanhope! naic, parde,
For I woll nere diſpeirid be :
If Hope me faile, than alle am I
Ungracious and unworthy :
U ij
310
THE
ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE,
}
$
Whiche in awaite lieth daie and night,
That none of him maie have a fight.
In Hope I woll comfortid be,
For Love, whan he betaught her me,
Sayid that Hope where fo I go
Should aie be releſe to my wo.
But what and the my balis bete,
And be to me curteis and fwete?
She is in nothing full certain;
Lovirs fhe put in full grete pain,
And makith 'hem with wo to dele:
Her faire behefte decevith fele,
For the woll behote fikirly
And failin aftir uttirly.
Ah! that is a full noious thing,
For mony' a lovir in loving
Hangeth upon her, and truflith faft,
Whiche lefe ther travaile at the laft.
Of thing to comme fhe wote right nought,
Therefore if it be wifely fought
Her counfaile folic is to take;
For many times whan fhe woll make
A full gode fyllogifme, I drede
That aftirwarde there fhall in dede
Folowe an ill conclufion:
This put me in confufion,
For many times I have it fenc
That many have begilid bene
For truſt that thei have fet in Hope,
Whiche fell 'hem aftirward a-flope.
But nath'lefs yet gladly ſhe wold
That he that woll him with her hold
Had all timis her purpofe clere
Withoutin deceipt any where;
That fhe defirith fikirly;
Whan I her blamed I did foly.
But what availith her gode will
Whan fhe ne maie ftaunche my ſtound ill?
That helpith lite that fhe maie doe,
Out take behefte unto my wọ,
And heftè certain in no wife
Without fete is not to preiſe.
Whan hefte and dede a fondir vary
'Thei doin a gretè contrary:
Thus am I poffid up and doune
With dole, thought, and confufioune:
Of my difefe there is no nomber,
Daungir and Shame me encomber,
Drede alfo and Jelofie,
And Wickid Tong, full of envie,
Of whiche the fharpe and cruill ire
Full oft me put in grete martire:
Thei have my joie fully let,
Sith Bialacoil thei have befhet
Fro me in prifon wickidly,
Whom I love fo entierly,
That it wollin my bane be
But I the fonir maie him fe.
And yet moreovir, worſt of all,
There' is fet to kepe, foule her befall!
A rimplid vecke ferre ronne in age,
Frouning and ycl'we' in her vilage,
Now mote my forowe enforced be
Ful fothe it is that Love yafe me
Thre wondir yeftis of his
grace,
Whiche I have lorne now in this place,
Sithe thei ne maie withoutin drede
Helpin but lite who takith hede,
For here availith no Swetè Thought,
And Swetê Speche helpith right nought,
The thirde was callid Swete Loking,
That now is lorne without lefing.
Yeftis were faire, but nat for thy
Thei helpin me but fimpilly
But Bialacoil lofid be
To gone at large and to be fre;
For him my life lieth all in dout
But if he come the rathir out.
Alas! I trowe it woll nat ben, ·
For how fhould I ere more him fene?
He maic nat out, and that is wrong,
Bicauſe the tourè is fo ftrong:
How ſhould he' out, or by whofe proweffe,
Out of fo ftrong a fortireffe?
By me certain it n'ill be doe,
God wotte I have no witte therto,
But well I wote I was in rage
Whan I to Love did my homage;
Who was the caufe (in fothfaftneffe)
But her felf Damè Idilneffe,
Whiche me conveide through faire praiere
To' entir into that faire vergere?
She was to blame me to leve,
The whiche now doeth me forè greve :
A fol'is worde is nought to trowe,
Ne worthe an apple for to lowe;
Men fhould him fnibbe bittirlie
At primè temps of his folie:
I was a fole, and fhe me leved,
Through whom I am right nought releved;
She accompliſhid all my will
That now me grevith wondir ill.
Refon me fayid, What ſhould fall
A fole my felf I maie well call,
That Love afide I had not laied,
And trowid that Dame Refon faicd;
Refon had bothè fkill and right
Whan fhe me blamed with all her might
To medle' of Love, that hath me fhent,
But certain now I woll repent.
And ſhould I repent? naie, parde,
A falfe traitour than fhould I be :
The devil's engins would me take
If evir I Love would forfake,
Or Bialacoil falfly betraie.
Should I at mifchief hate him? naic,
7
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE,
sit
IA
1
Sithe he now for his curtifie
Is in prifon of Jelouſie;
Curtifie certain did he me
So moche it maie not yoldin be:
Whan he the haie paffin me lete
To kiffe the Rofe faire and fwete
Should I therefore conne him maugre?
Naie, certainly, it fhall nat be,
For Love ſhall nevir, fave gode will,
Here of me ne through worde or will
Offence or complaint more or leffe
Neithir of Hope nor Idleneffe;
For certis it were wrong that I
Hatid 'hem for therurtifie.
There is not els but fuffre' and thinke,
And wakin whan I fhoulde winke,
Abide in hope till Love through chaunce
Sende me foccour or allegaunce,
Expectaunt aic till I maie mete
T geitin mercie of that fwete.
Whilom I thinke how Love to me
Sayid that he would take at gre
My fervice if unpacience
Yeaufid me to doen offence;
He faied, In thanke I thall it take,
And high maiſtir eke they make,
If Wickidneffe ne reve it the,
But, fone, I trowe that fhall nat be.
Thefe were his wordis by and by,
It femed he lovid me truely.
Now is there not but ferve him wele
If that I thinke his thanke to fele:
My gode, mine harme, lithe whole in me,
In Love maie no defaute ybe,
For true Love ne failed nevir man;
Sothly the faute mote nedis than,
As God forbide, be founde in me,
And how it cometh I can not fe.
Now let it gone as it maie go,
Wher Love woll foccour me or flo,
He maie do wholly on me his will;
I am fo fore ybounde him till
From his fervice I maie not flene,
For life and deth withoutin wene
Is in his hande; I maie nat chefe ;
He maie me doe bothe winne and lefe:
And fithe fo fore he doeth me greve,
Yet if my luft he would acheve,
To Bialacoil godely to be,
Iyeve no force what fell on me;
For though I die, as I mote nede,
I praie Love of his godelihede
To Bialacoil doe gentilneffe,
For whom I live in foche diftreffe
That I mote dyin for penaunce:
But firft withoutin repentaunce
I' will me confeffe in gode entent,
And make in hafte my teftament,
As lovirs doin that felen fmerte.
To Bialacoil leve I mine herte
All whole, withoutin departing
Or doubleneffe or repenting.
Coment Raifon vient a L'amant.
Thus as I madin my paffage
In compleint and in cruill rage,
And I n'ot where to find a leche
That couthe unto mine helping eche,
Sodainly again comin doun
Out of her toure I fawe Refoun,
Difcrete and wife, and full plefaunt,
And of her porte full'avenaunt:
The right waie fhe toke unto me,
Whiche ftode in grete perpiexite,
That was pofhid in every fide,
That I n'ift where I might abide,
Till fhe, demarely fadde of chere,
Sayid to me as he came nere;
Mine ownè frende, art thou agreved?
How is this quarell yet acheved
Of Lov'is fide? anon me tell
Haft thou not yet of love thy fill ?
Art thou nat werie' of thy fervice
That the hath grevid in foche wife?
What joie hafle thou in thy loving?
Is it a fwete or bittir thing?
Canft thou yet chefin, let me fe,
What beft thy fuccour mightin be?
Thou fervift a full noble lorde,
That maketh the thrall for thy rewarde,
Whiche aie reneweth thy tourment,
With folie fo he hath the blent:
Thou fell in miſchief thilke dale
Whan thou diddift, the fothe to faic,
To him obeifaunce and homage :
Thou wroughtit nothing as the fage
Whan thou became his liegè man;
Thou diddift a grete folie than :
Thou wiftift nat what fell therto,
With what lorde thou haddift to doe:
If that thou haddift him well knowe
Thou haddiſt nought be brought fo lowe,
For if that thou wiſte what it were
Thou n'oldift ferve him halfe a yere,
No, nat a weke nor halfe a daie,
Ne yet an houre without delaie ;
Ne nevir I lovid paramours,
His lordship is fo full of hours:
Knowift him ought?-
L'amanut. Ye, Dame, parde.---
Raifoun. Naie, naie.-L'amaunt. Yes I.~
Raifoun. Wherefore, let fe.-
L'amannt. Of that he fayid I fhould be
Glad to have foche a lorde as he,
And maißtir of foche feignorie.-
Raifoun. Knowift him no more?-
L'amaunt. Naie, certis, I,
Save that he yafe me rulis there,
And went his waie I ne wift where,
And I abode bounde in balaunce:
Lo, there a noble cognifaunce!
Raifoun
But I woll that thou knowe him now
Ginning and ende, fithin that thou
U in
312
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE,
1
Art fo anguifhous and fo mate,
Disfigurid out of aftate,
There maie no wreche have more of wo,
Ne catife non endurin fo
It were to every man fitting
Of his lorde to have knowleging,
For if thou knewe him out of dout
Lightly thou fhouldiſt ſcapin out
Of thy prison that marrith the.
L'amaunt.
Ye, Dame, fithin my lorde is he,
And I his man made with mine honde
I wouldè right faine undirftonde
To knowin of what kinde he be,
If any would enformè me.
Raifoun
I would (fayid Refon) the lere,
Sithe thou to lerne haft foche defire,
And fhewin the withoutin fable
A thing that is not demonftrable.
Thon fhalt knowe withoutin fcience
And withoutin experience
The thing that maie not knowin be,
Ne wift ne fhewed in no degre,
Thou maieft the fothe of it not witten
Although in the it were ywritten;
Thou fhalt not knowin therof more
While thou art rulid by his lore,
But unto him that Love will flie
The knottê maie unclofid be
Whiche hath to the, as it is founde,
So longe to knitte and not unbounde
Now fet well thine entencion
To here of love the defcripcion.
Love it is an hateful pefe,
A fre' acquitance without releſe,
And through the fret full of falfhedg
A fikerneffe all fet in drede;
In herte is a difpering hope,
And full of hope it is wanhope;
A wife wodneffe, and void refon,
Afwet perill in to droạn,
And hevie burthin light to bere,
A wickid wawe awaie to were;
It is Charybdis perilous,
Difagréable and gracious;
It' is difcordaunce that can acorde,
And accordaunce unto difcorde;
It is conning without fcience,
And wifedome without fapience,
Witte withoutin difcrecion,
Havoire without poffeffion;
It is like hele and whole fickeneſſe,
A truft drounid and dronkineffe,
And helth all full of maladie,
And charite full of envie,
And angre full of aboundaunce,
And a full gredie fuffifaunce,
Delite right full of hevineffe,
And drerinefs-full of gladneffe,
Bittir fweteneffe and fwete errour,
Right evill favoured gode favour,
1
A fin that pardone hath withinne,
And pardone ſpottid without finne,
A paine alfo it is joious,
And felonie right pitous,
Alfo a plaie that felde is ftable,
And ftedfaftnefs right mevable,
A ftrength weikid to ftonde upright,
And a febleneffe full of might,
Witte unavifid, fage folie,
And joiê full of tourmentrie,
A laughtir it is weping aie,
Reft that travailith night and daie,
Alfo a fwetè hell it is,
And a forowfull paradis,
A plefaunt gaile and efie prifoun,
And full of froftis fomir fefoun,
Prime temps fall of froftis white,
And Maie devoide of all delite,
With fere braunchis bloffoms ungrene,
And newe fruict filled with wintir tene
It is a flowe maie not forbere,
Ragges ribanid with gold to were,
For all fo well woll Love be fette
Undir raggis as riche rotchette,
And eke as well by amorettes
In mourning blacke as bright burnettes,
For none is of ſo mokill prife,
Ne no man foundin is fo wife,
Ne no man ſo high of parage,
Ne no man founde of witte fo fage,
No man fo hardie ne fo wight,
Ne no man of fo mokill might,
None fo fullfillid of bounte,
That he with love maie dauntid be
All the worldè holdith this waie,
Love makith all to gone mifwaie
But if it be thei of evill life,
Whom Genius curfid, man and wife,
That wrongly werke again Nature;
None foche I love, ne have no cure
Of foche as Lov'is fervauntes ben,
And woll nat by my counfaile fleen,
For I ne preifin that loving
Where through man at the laft ending
Shall call 'hem wretchis full of wo,
Love grevith 'hem and fhendith ſo;
But if thou wolt well Love eſchewe
For to eſcape out of his mewe,
And make all whole the forowe flake,
No bettir counfaile maieft thou take
Than thinke to flein wel i-wis,
Maie nought helpe els, for wit thou this,
If thou flie it ſhall flie the,
Folowe' it and folowen fhall it the.
L'amaunt.
Whan I had herid Refon fain,
Whiche had yfplit her fpeche in vain,
Dame, (fayid I) I dare well faie
Of this avaunt me well I maie,
That from your fcole fo deviaunt
I am, that nere the more ayaunt
Right nought I am through your doocting
I dulle undir your diſcipline ;
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
313*
Awot no more than I wiſte ever,
'To' me fo contrarie and fo fer
Is every thing that ye me lere,
And yet I can it all by partivere;
Mine herte foryeteth thereof right nought;
It is fo writtin in my thought,
And depe gravin it is ſo tender,
That all mine herte I can it render,
And rede it ovir communely,
But to my felf lewdift am I.
But fithe ye love difcrivin fo,
And lacke and preife it bothe two,
Definith it into this letter,
That I maie thinke on it the better,
For I herd nevir defined here,
And wilfully I would it lere.-
Raifon. If love be ferchid well and fought,
It is a fickeneffe of the thought,
Annexid and knedde betwixt tweine,
Which male and female with o cheine,
So frele bindeth, that thei n'ill twinne
Wedir thereof thei lefe or winne:
The rote ſpringith through hote brenning
In to diſordinate defiring
For to kiffin and to embrace,
And at ther luft them to folace;
Of othir thing Love retchith nought,
But fetteth ther herte and all ther thought
More for ther delectacioun
Than any procreacioun
Of other fruict by engendrure,
Whiche love to God is nat pleſure,
For of ther bodie fruicte to get
Thei yeve no force, thei are fo fet
Upon delite to plaie in fere;
And fome have alfo this manere
To fainin 'hem for lovè feke;›
Soche love I prefe not at a leke,
For paramours thei do but faine,
To lovin truely thei difdaine;
Thei falfin ladies traitourſly,
And fwerne 'hem othis uttirly,
With many' a lefing, many' a fable,
And all thei findin difceivable.
And whan thei han ther luft ygetten
The hote ernes thei all foryetten;
Women the harme byin full fore;
But men this thinkin evirmore,
The laffe harme is, fo mote I the,
Difceive them than difceivid be,
And namily where thei ne maie
Findin none othir mene ne waie,
For I wote well in fothfaftneffe,
That who doeth now his bufineffe
With any woman for to dele
For any luft that he maie fele,
But if it be for engendrure
He doeth trefpaffe I you enfure,
For he fhould fettin all his will
To getten a likely thing him till,
And to ſuſtain, if that he might,
And kepin forth by kind'is right
His owne likèneffe and femblable;
For bicaufe all' is corrumpable,
And failin fhould fucceffioun,
Ne were the generacioun,
Our fect'is frenè for to fave,
Whan fadre' or mothir arne in grave
Ther childrin fhulde whan they ben dede
Full diligent ben in ther ftede
To ufe that worke on foche a wife
That one maie through an othir riſe;
Therefore fet kinde therein delite,
For men therein ſhould 'hem delite,
And of that dedè be not erke,
But ofte fithis haunt that werke,
For none would drawe thereof a draught
Ne were delite whiche hath him caught;
This had fu'till Dame Nature,
For none goeth right I the enfure,
Ne hath entten whole ne parfite,
For ther defire is for delite,
The whiche fortenid crefe, and eke
The plaie of love, for oft thei feke
And thrall 'hem felf, thei be ſo nice,
Unto the prince of every vice,
For of eche finne it is the rote
Unlefull luft, though it be fote,
And of all evill the racine,
As Tullius can determine,
Whiche in his time was full fage,
In a boke whiche he made of age,'
Where that more he ypraifith Elde,
Though he be crokid and unwelde,
And more of commendacioun
Than youth in his diſcripcioun ;
For youth fet bothe man and wife
In all perill of foule and life,
And perill is, but men have grace,
The perill of youth for to pace
Without any deth or diftreffe,
It is fo full of wildèneffe,
So oft it doeth fhame and domage
To him or unto his linage,
It ledith man now up now doun,
In mokill diffolucioun,
And maketh him love ill companie,
And lede his life difrulilie,
And halte him paied with none eſtate;
Within himſelf is foche debate
He chaungith purpoſe and entent,
And yaltè into fome covent,
To livin aftir ther emprife,
And lefith fredome and fraunchiſe
That Nature in him had yfet,
The whiche again he maie not get,
If there he make his manſion,
For to abide profeflion;
Though for a time his herte abſent
It maie not faile he fhall repent,
And eke abidin thilke daie
To leve' his abite and gon his waie,
And lefeth his worſhip and his name,
And dare not come again for fhame,
But all his life he, doeth fo mourne,
Bicaufe he dare not home retourne,
1
り
​314
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
Z
Fredome of kinde fo loft hath he
That nevir maie recurid be,
But that if God him g
antin grace
That he maie, er he hennis pace,
Contein undir obedience,
Through the vertue of pacience;
For youth fet man in all folie,
In unthrift and in ribaudrie,
In lecherie and in outrage,
So oft it chaungith of corage:
Youth ginnith oft foche a bargain
That maie not end withoutin pain:
In grete perill is Youth-hede,
Delite fo doeth his bridill lede:
Delite this hangith, drede the nought,
Bothe mann'is bodie and his thought;
Onily through youth'is chambere,
That to doen ill is customere,
And of naught ellis takith hede
But onely folkis for to lede
Into difport and wildèneffe
So froward is it from fadneffe,
But elde ydrawith 'hem therfro;
Who wote it not he maie well
go,
And mo of 'hem that now arne old,
That whilom youth yhad in hold,
Whiche yet remembre' of tendir age
How it 'hem brought in many' a rage,
And many' a folie therin wrought,
But now that elde hath 'hem through fought
Thei repent 'hem of ther folie
That youth 'hem put in jeopardie,
In perill and in mokill woe,
And made 'hem oft amiffe to doe,
And ſewin evill companie
And riot and advouterie.
But Eldè gan againe reftraine
From fuchè foly and refraine,
And fet men by her ordinaunce
In gode rule and in governaunce;
But ill fhe fpendith her ferviſe,
For no man wol her love ne preiſe;
She is hatid, this wot I wele,
Her acqueintaunce would no man fele,
Ne han of Eldè companie,
Men hate to be of her alie,
For no man wold becomin olde,
Ne die whan he is yonge and bolde;
And Elde mervailith right gretely
Whan thei remembre 'hem inwardly
Of many' a perillous empriſe
Whiche that thei wrought in fondry wife,
How evir thei might without blame
Eſcape awaie withoutin fhame,
In youth without any domage,
Without reprefe of ther linage,
Leffe of membre, fheding of blode,
Perill of deth, or loffe of gode.
Wotift thou nat where Youth abit,
That men fo preifin in ther wit?
With Delite fhe yhalte fojour,
For both thei dwellin in o tour:
*
As longe as Youthe is in fefon
Thei dwellin in one manfion :
Delite of Youth woll have fervice
To do what fo he will deviie,
And youth is redy evirmore
For to obey for fmerte or fore
Unto Delite, and him to yeve
Her fervice while that fhe male live.
Whero Elde abitte I wol the tell
Shortily, and no while ydwelle,
For thidir behoveth the to go,
Yf Deth in youthè the not fio;
Of this journey thou maifte not faile
With her Labour and eke Travaile
Lodgid ben, with Sorow and Wo,
That nevir out of her court go,
Paine and Diftreffe, Sickenelle and Ire,
And Melan'coly, that angry fire,
Ben of her paleis fenatours,
Groning and grutching her herbegeouts :
The day and night her to tourment
With cruill Deth thei her preſent,
And tellin'her erliche and late
That Death ftondeth armid at her gate;
Than bring thei to her remembraunce
The foly dedes of her enfaunce,
Whiche caufin her to mourne in wo
That youth hath her begilid fo,
Whiche fodainly awaie is hafted;
She weped the time that fhe hath wafted,
Complaining of the preteritte
And the prefent, that nat abitte,
And of her oldè vanite,
That but aforne her ſhe maie fe
In the future fome fmale focoure
To leggin her of her doloure,
To graunt her time of repentaunce,
For her finnis to do penaunce,
And at the laft fo 'her governe,
To winne the joye that is eterne,
Fro whiche go backwarde youth her made,
In vanite to drowne and wade;
For preſent time abidith nought,
It is more fwifte than any thought;
So litill while it doth endure
That there is ne compte ne meſure.
But how that evir the game go,
Who lift love joye and mirth alfo
Of love, be it he or the,
Or hie or lowe, who fo it be,
In frute thei ſhouldin 'hem delite,
Ther parte thei maie not ellis quite,
To fave 'hem felf in honefte;
And yet full many one I fe
Of women, fothly for to faine,
That defirin and wouldin faine
The plaie of love, thei be fo wilde,
And not coveite to go with childe;
And if with childe thei be perchaunce,
Thei wol it holde a grete mifchaunċe;
But what fo evir wo thei fele
Thei wol not plainin, but concele,
But it be any fole or nice,
In whome that fhame hath no juſtice;
THE ROMAUNT
315
OF THE ROSE. "
છે,
For to delite echone thei drawe
That haunt this worke, both hie and lawe,
Save fuche that arne worth right nought,
That for money wol be ybought;
Suche love I preifin in no wife
Whan it is given for covetife;
I preife no woman, though fhe' is wode,
That yeveth her felfe for any gode,
For till fhould a man ytelle
Of her that wil her body felle,
Be fhe a maide or be fhe wife,
That quicke, wol felle her by her life,
How faire chere that ever fhe make,
He is a wretche I undirtake
That love fuche one, for fwete or foure,
Though he him called her paramoure,
"And laugheth on him, and maketh him feft,
For certainly no fuche beft
To be lovid is nat worthy,
Or berin the name of Drury;
None fhould her plefe, but he wer wode,
That wol difpoile him of his gode:
Yet natheleffe I wol not faie
That fhe for folace and for plaie
Maie a jewil or othir thing
Take of her lov'is fre yeving,
But that the afke it in no wife
For drede of fhame or covetife;
And he of hers maie him certaine
Without felaundir yevin againe,
And joyne ther hertes togidir fo
In love, and take and yeve alfo :
Trowe nat that I wollin 'hem twinne
Whan in ther love there is no finne;
I wol that thei togidir go,
And done al that thei han ado,
As curtis ſhould and debonaire,
And in ther love berin 'hem faire,
Withoutin vice, both he and fhe,
So that alwaic in honefte
Fro foly Love to kepe 'hem clere,
That brennith hertis with his fere,
And that ther love in any wife
Be devoide of all covetife.
Gode love fhould engendrid be
Of trewè hert, jufte and fecre,
And not of fuche as fet ther thought
To have their luft and ellis nought,
So are thei caught in Lov'is lace
Trewly for bodily folace;
Flefhely delite is ſo preſent
With the, that fet al thine entent
Withoutin more, what fhould I glofe?
For to gettin and have the Roſe,
Whiche makith the fo mate and wode
That thou defireft none other gode:
But thou art not an inche the nerre,
But evre' abideft in forroue' and werre,
As in thy face it is yfene;
It makith the bothe pale and lene;
Thy might, thy vertue, gothe awaie,
A fory geft in godè faie
Thou harborift than in thine inne,
The god of Love whan thou let inne;
Wherfore I rede thou fhette him oute,
Or he fhal greve the out of doute,
For to thy profite it wol turne,
If he no more with the fojourne.
In grete mifchefe and forow fonken
Ben hertis that of love arne dronken,
As thou peraventure knowen fhall
Whan thou haft loft thy time all,
And ſpent thy thought in idilneffe,
In wafte, and woful luftineffe.
Yf thou maift live the time to fe
Of love for to delivered be
Thy time thou fhalt bewepè fore,
The whiche nevir thou maift reſtore,
For time yloft, as men may fe,
For nothing may recovered be:
And if thou fcape yet at the lafte
Fro Love that hath the ſo faſte
Yknitte and boundin in his lace,
Certaine I holde it but a grace;
For many one, as it is feine,
Have lofte and ſpent alſo in veine
In his fervice without focour
Body and foule, gode and trefour,
And witte and ſtrength, and eke richeffe,
Of whiche thei had nevir redreſſe.
L'amant.
Thus taught and prechid hath Refon,
But Love yfpilte hath her fermon,
That was fo impid in my thought
That her doctrine I fet at nought,
And yet ne faide fhe nevre' a dele
That I ne underftode it wele
Worde by worde the matir all;
But unto Love I was ſo thrall,
Whiche callith ovir all his praie,
He chafith fo my thoughtis aie,
And holdeth min herrte undir his fele
As trufty and trewe as any ftele,
So that I no devocion
Ne hadde in the wife fermon
Of Dame Refon, ne of her rede
I toke no fojour in mine hede,
For allè yede out at one ere
That in that othir fhe did lere;
Fully on me ſhe loſt her lore;
Her fpeche me grevid wondir fore.
That unto her for ire I faide,
For angir as I did abraide,
Dame, and as it your will algate
That I not love but that I hate
All men, as ye me now do teche?
For if I do aftir your fpeche,
Sith that you feine love is not gode,
Than muft I nedis fay with mode,
Yf I it leve, in hatrid aie
Livin, and voidin love awaie
Ferrè from me a finful wretche,
Yhatid of alle that tetche,
I may not go none othir gate,
For either muft I love or hate,
And if I hatin men of newe
More than love it wol me rowe,
J15
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
*
As by your preching femith me,
For Love nothing ne praifith the:
Ye yeve gode counfaile fikirly
That prechith me al day that I
Ne fhould not Lov'is lore alowe;
He were a fole woulde you not trowe;
In fpeche alſo ye han me taught
Anothir love that knowen is naught,
Whiche I have herde you not repreve:
To love eche othir, by your leve,
If ye would definin it me,
I wouldin gladly here, to ſe
At the left if I mowin lere
Of fondry lovis the manere.
Raifon.
Certis, frende, a grete fole art thou,
Whan that thou nothing wolt alow
Whiche that I for thy profite faie;
Yet wol I faie the more in faie,
For I am redy at the left
To accompliſhin thy requeft;
But I n'ot where it wol aveile;
In vaine perav'enture I travaile.
Love there is in fondrie wife,
Right as I fhall the here dèviſe.
For fome love leful is and gode,
I mene not that whiche maketh the wode,
And bringith the in many' a fitte,
And ravifheth fro the al thy witte,
It is fo marveilous and queint;
With fuche love be no more aqueint.
Comment Raifon diffinift Aunfete.
Love of frendfhippe alfo there is
Whiche makith no man don amis,
Of will yknitte betwixin two,
That wol not breke for wele ne wo,
Whiche longe is likely to contune,
Whan wil and godes ben in commune,
Groundid by Godd'is ordinaunce,
All whole withoutin difcordaunce,
With them yholding commauncè,
Of al ther gode in charite,
That there be none exceptioun
Through chaunging of ententioun,
That eche helpe othir at ther nede,
And wifely hele both worde and dede,
Trewe of mening, devoide of flouthe,
For wit is nought withoutin trouthe,
So that the tone dare all his thought
Saine to his frende, and ſparin nought,
As to him felfe, without dreding
To be diſcovered by wreying,
For glad is that conjunctioun
Whan there is none fufpectioun
Betwixin 'hem whome thei wold prove,
That trewe and parfite weren in love;
For no man may be amiable
But if he be fo ferme and ftable
That Fortune chaunge him not ne blinde,
By: that his frende alway him finde
Bothe pore and riche in one eſtate,
For if his frende through any gate
Wol complaine of his poverte
He fhould not bide ſo long til he
Of his helping doth him require,
For gode dede done thorough prayire
Is folde and bought to dere i-wis
To hert that of grete valure is,
For hert fulfilled of gentilneffe
Can evil demene his diftreffe;
And man that worthy is of name
To afkin oftin hath grete fhame.
A gode man brennith in his thought
For fhame whan that he aſkith ought;
He hath grete thought, and dredith aie
For his difefe whan he fhal praie
His frende left that he warnid be
Till he preve his ſtabilite;
But whan that he hath foundin one
That trufty is and trewe as ftone,
And hath aſſayid him at all,
And founde him ftedfaft as a wall,
And of his frendſhippe be certaine,
He fhal him fhewe bothe joie and paine,
And all that he dare thinke or faie,
Withoutin fhame, as he well maie,
For how fhould he afhamid be
Of fuche an one as I tolde the?
For whan he wot his fecret thought
The third ſhall know therof right nought,
For twey in nombre' is bet than thre
In every counfaile and fecre:
Repreve he dredith nevre' a dele
Who that befet his wordis wele,
For every wife man out of drede
Can kepe his tong till he fe nede.
And folis can not holde ther tonge;
A fol'is belle is fone yronge;
Yet fhall a trewe frende doin more
To helpe his felowe of his fore,
And focour him whan he hath nede
In all that he may done in dede,
And gladdir that he him plefith
Than his felowe that he efith:
And if he do nat his requeſt
He fhal as mochil him moleſt
As his felowe, bicauſe that he
Maie not fulfill his volunte
All fully as he hath required.
If both the hertis Love hath fired
Bothe joye and wo thei fhall departe,
And take evinly eche his parte,
Halfe his anoye he ſhal have aie,
And comforte him what that he maie,
And of his bliffe parte fhal he,
If love wollin departid be.
And whilom of this unite
Spake Tullius in a dite,
A man ſhould makin this requeſt
Unto his frende that is honeſt,
And he godely ſhould it fulfill,
But it the more were out of ſkill,
And otherwiſe not graunt therto,
Except only in caufis two.
Yf men his frende to deth would drive
Let him be befy to' fave his live.
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
317
"
ī
Alfo if men wollen him affaile,
Of his worship to make him faile,
And hindrin him of his renoun,
Let him with ful entencioun
His devir done in eche degre,
That his frendè ne ſhamid be.
In theſe two cafis with his might,
Taking no kepe to kill nor right,
As ferre as love may him excufe,
This ought no man for to refuſe.
This love that I have told to the
Is nothing contrarie to me;
This wol I that thou folowe wele,
And leve the t'othir every dele;
This love to vertue al entendeth,
'The t'othir folis blent and ſhendeth.
An othir love alfo there is
That is contrary unto this,
Which defire is ſo conſtrainid
That it ne is but will fainid;
Away fro trouth it doth fo varie
That to gode love it is contrarie,
For it maymith in many wiſe
Sike hertis with covetife;
All in winning and in profite
Suche love yfettith his delite:
This love fo haungith in balaunce,
That if it leſe his hope perchaunce
O ucre that he' is fet upon
It woll failin and quench anon,
For no man maie be amorous,
Ne in his living vertuous,
But if he lovin more in mode
Men or 'hem felfe than for ther gode;
For love that profite doth abide
Is falfe, and bidith not to tide :
Soche love comith of Dame Fortune,
That litil while woll contune,
For it fall chaungin wondir fone,
And take eclips as doth the mone,
Whan that the is from us ylet
Through erth, that betwixin is fet
The fonne and her, as it may fall,
Be it in partie or in all :
•
The fhadowe makith her bemes merke,
And her hornis to fhewin derke
That part where he hath loft her light
Of Fhebus fully and the fight,
Till whan the fhadowe' is ovir paſte
She' is enlumined ageinas fafte
Through the brightnes of the fonne bemo,
That yevith to' her again her lemes:
That love is right of fuch nature,
Now it is faire and now obfcure,
New bright, now clipfy of manere,
And whilom dimme and whilom clere,
A fone as poverte ginnith take,
With mantil and with wedis blake
Hidith of love the light away,
That into night it tournith day,
It
may not fein Richeffe fhine
Till that the blacke fhadowis fine,
For what that Richeffe fhinith bright
Love recovereth ayen his light,
And whan it failith he wol fit,
And as ſhe grevith fo grevith it.
Of this love herith what I faie.
The riche men are ylovid aie,
And namely tho that ſparande bene,
That wol not waſhe ther hertis clene
Of the filthe nor of the vice
Of gredy brenning avarice.
The riche man ful fond is i-wis
That wenith that he lovid is;
If that his hert it undirſtode
It is not he; it is his gode:
He may wel wetin in his thought
His gode is loved and he right nought;
For if he be a nigarde eke
Men wol not fet by him a leke,
But hatin him, this is the fothe.
Lo what profite his catil dothe!
Of every man that may him fe
It getteth him nought but enmite,
But he amende him of that vice,
And know himſelfe he is not wife.
Certis he ſhould aie frendly be
To get him love, alſo ben fre,
Or els he is not wife ne fage,
No more than is a gote ramage,
That he not lovith his dede proveth,
Whan he his richeffe fo well loveth
That he wol hide it aie and fpare,
His porè frendis fene forfare,
To kepin aie his ill purpoſe,
Till that for drede his eyin cloſe,
And til a wickid deth him take
Him had levir a fondre ſhake,
And let al' his limmes a fondre rive,
Than leve his richeffe in his live;
He thinketh to part it with no man;
Certain no love is in him than,
For how ſhould love within him be
Whan in his hert is no pite?
That he trefpafith well I wate,
For eche man knowith his eftate,
For wel him ought to be reproved
That lovith nought ne is not loved.
But fitbe we arne to Fortune comer,
And hath our fermon of her nomen,
A wondir will I tell the now,
Thou herdift nere fuche one I trow;
I n'ot where thou me levin ſhall,
Although fothfaſteneffe it be all,
As it is writtin, and is fothe,
Chat unco men more profite dothe
The frowarde fortune contraire
Than doth the fote and debonaire;
And if the thinke it is doutable,
It is through argument provable,
For Fortune debonaire and fofte
Yfalfith and begilith ofte;
For liche a methir the can cherishe,
And mailkin as doth a nerict,
And of her gode to him yder :.
And yeveth 'hem parte of her jeweles,
With grete richis and dignite,
And 'hem the hoteth itabilite
1
'
318
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
;
In a ſtate that is nothing ſtable,
But chaunging aie and variable,
And fedith him with glory veine,
And worldely bliffe nothing certeine:
Whan fhe 'hem fettith on her whele
Than wenin thei to be right wele,
And in fo ftable ftate withall
That nevir thei wene for to fall
And whan thei fette fo high to be
Thei wene to have in certainte
Of hertly frendis to grete nombre,
That nothing might their ftate encombre;
Thei truſt 'hem fo on every fide,
Wening with 'hem thei would abide
In every perill and miſchaunce
Withoutin chaunce or variaunce
Bothè of catil and of gode,
And alfo for to ſpende ther blode,
And al ther membris for to ſpill,
Onily to fulfill ther will:
Thei maken it whole in many wife,
And hotin 'hem their full fervice,
How fore fo that it do 'hem fmerte
Into ther very nakid fherte;
Herte and hande alfo whole thei give,
For al the time that thei may live,
So that with this ther flatiry
Thei makin folis glorifie
Onely of ther wordis fpeking,
And han chere of a rejoyfing,
And trow 'hem as the Evangile;
And it is al falfhede and gile,
As thei fhal afterwardis fe;
Whan thei arne fal in poverte,
And ben of gode and catil bare,
Than fhould thei fene who frendis ware,
For of an hundrid certainly,
Nor of a thouſande full ſcarfly,
Ne fhall thei finde unncthis one
Whan poverte is comen upon.
For thus Fortune that I of tell,
With men whan that her luft to dwell,
Maketh 'hem to lefe ther conifaunce,
And norifheth 'hem in ignoraunce.
But frowarde Fortune and perverſe,
Whan high eftates fhe doth reverſe,
And makith 'hem to toumble doune
Of her whole with a fodaine tourne,
And from ther richeffe dothe 'hem fle,
And plongith 'hem in poverte,
As a ftepmothir envious,
And laieth a plaiſtir dolorous
Unto ther hertis woundid egre,
Whiche is not tempered with vinegre,
But with poverte' and indigence,
For to fhewe by experience
That he is Fortune verilie,
In whom no man ne fhould affie,
Nor in her yeftis have fiaunce,
She is fo ful of variaunce.
Thus can fhe makin hie and lowe,
Whan thei from richeffe arnè throwe,
Fully to knowin without were
Frende of affecte and frende of chere,
And whiche in love weren trew and ftable,
And whiche alfo weren variable,
Aftir Fortune ther goddeſſe,
In poverte', either in richeffe,
For all that yeveth here out of drede
Unhappy yberith it in dede,
For Infortunè lctte not one
Of frendis whan Fortune is gone,
#
I mene tho frendis that woll fle
Anone as entrith poverte;
And yet thei wol not leve 'hem fo,
But in eche place where that thei go
Thei callin 'hem wretche, fcorne, and blame,
And of ther mifhappe 'hem diffame,
And namely fuche as in richeffe
Pretendith mofte of ftableneffe,
Whan that they fawe 'hem fet on lofte,
And werin of hem fucoured ofte,
And moſt iholpe in al ther nede,
But now thei take no maner hede,
But feine in voice of flatirie
That now appereth ther folie
Ovir al wher ſo that thei fare,
And finge, Go, farewel, Feldefare.
Alle fuche frendis I befhrewe,
For of trewe frendis ther be to fewc,
But fothfaft frendes, what fo betide,
In every fortune wollen abide ;
Thei han their hertes in fuch nobleffe
That thei n'il love for no richeffe,
Nor for that Fortune may 'hem fende
Thei wollen 'hem focour and defende,
And chaungin for fofte ne for fore;
For who his frende loveth evirmore,
Though men drawe fwerdis him to flo,
Thei may not hewe ther love a two;
But if in cafe that I fhall fay,
For pride and ire lefe it he
may,
And for reprove by nicete,
And diſcovering of privite
With tongè wounding, as felon,
Through venemous detraccion.
Frende in this cafe wol gon his way,
For nothing greve him more ne may,
And for nought ellis wol he fle
If he love in ftabilite:
And certaine he is well begone
Among a thouſande that findeth one,
For there ne may be no richeffe,
Ayenft frendſhip of worthineffe,
For it ne may fo high attaine
As may the valoure, fothe to faine,
Of him that lovith trewe and well:
Frendfhip is more than is catell,
For frende in courte aie bettìr is
Than peny is in purfe certis,
And than is Fortune mifhaping,
Whan upon men fhe is fabling
Thorough mifturning of her chaunce,
And caftith 'hem out of balaunce.
She maketh through her adverfitc
Men ful and clerly for to fe
Him that is frende in exiſtence
From him that is by apparence,
THE ROMAUNT OF THE KOSE.
973
For infortune makith anone
To know thy frendis fro thy fone
By experience right as it is,
The whiche is more to praife i-wis
Than in muche richeffe and trefour,
For more depe profite and valour
Poverte', and fuche adverfite
Before, than doeth profperite,
For that one yeveth conifaunce,
And t'othir gevith ignoraunce.
And thus in poverte' is in dede
Trouthe declarid fro falfhede,
For faint frendis it wol declare,
And trewe allo, what way they fare;
For whan he was, in his richeffe
Thefe frendis ful of doubleneffe
Offrid him in many wife
Ther herte and body, and fervice,
What would he then have you to 'have brought
To knowin opiuly ther thought,
That he now hath fo clerely fene?
The laffe begiled he fhould have bene
And he had than percevid it,
Ent Richeffe n'olde not let him wit;
Wel more avantage doeth hini than,
Sithe that it makitle him a wife man,
The grete mifchefe that he perceveth
Than docth richeffe, that him decevetà:
Richeffe riche ne ymakith nought
Him that on trefour fet his thought,
For richelle ftonte in fuffifaunce,
And nothing ftonte in haboundaunce,
For fuflifaunce all onily
Makith mcnne to live richily..
For he that hath but mitchis tweine,
Ne value in his whole demeine,
Liveth more at efe, and more is riche,
Than doith he whiche that is chiche,
And in his barne hath, foth to faine,"
An hundrid mavis of whete graine,
Though he be chiapınan or marchaunt,
And have of golde many befaunt,
For in the getting he 'hath fuche wo,
And in the keping drede alfo,
And fette ere more his befineffe
For to encrefe and not to leffe,
For to augment and multiply;
And though on hepes that lie him by,
Yet nevir fhall make his richeffe
Affeth unto his gredineffe;
But the pore man that retchith nought
Save of his livelode in his thought,
Whiche that he getteth with his travaile,
He dredith nought that it fhall faile,
Though he have little world'is gode,
Mete and drinke, and efie fode,
Upon his travaile and living,
And alfo fuflifaunt clothing,.
Or if in fickencffe that he fall,
And lothe mete and drinke withall,
Though he have not his mete to buie,
He fall bethinke him baftily
E
To put him out of all daungere,
That he of mete hath no miftere,
Or that he maie with little eke
Be foundin while that he is feke,
Or that men fhall him berne in hafte
To live till his fickneffe be pafte
Unto fome maifondewe befide:
He cafte nought what ſhall him betide;
He thinkith nought that evre' he ſhall
Into any fickeneffe yfall.
And though it fall, as it maie be,
That all betime fparin fhall he
As mokill as fhall to' him fuffice
While he is ficke in any wife,
He doith for that he woll be
Contentid with his poverte
Withoutein nede of any man :
So moche in little have he can
He is apaide with his fortune,
And for he n'ill be importune
Unto no wight ne onerous,
Nor of ther godeffe covetous,
Therfore he fpareth, it mai well ben,
His pore cftate for to fuftene.
Or if him lufte not for to fpare,
But fuffrith forthc as nat yet ware,
At lafte it happeneth, as it maie,
All right unto his haſtè daie,
And take the worlde as it would be;
For evir in herte thinkith he
The fonir that Deth him yflo
To paradife the fonir go
He fhall, there for to live in bliffe
Where that he fhall no godis miffe:
Thidir he hopeth God fhall him fende
Aftir this wretchid liv'is ende:
Pythagoras himself reherfes,
In a boke that The Goldin Verfes
Is cleped, for the nobilite
Of the honorable dite,
Than whan thou goeft thy body fro
Fre in the ayre thou shalt up go,
And levin all humanite,
And purely live in diete.
He is a fole withoutin were
That trowith have his countrey here.-
In yerth is not our countere,
That mais theſe clerkis feine and fe
In Boece of Confolacion,
Where it is makid mencion
Of our contre piaine at the eye
By teching of philofophie,
Where leude men mightin lerin wit,
Who fo that would tranſlatin it.
If he be fuche that can well live
Aftir his rentè maie him yeve,
And not defirith more to have
Than maie fro poverte him fave.
A wifeman faied, as we maie fene,
Is no man wretched but he it wene,
1
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THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
Be he a king, knight, or ribaude :
Many' a ribaude is merie' and baude
That fwinketh and berith daie and night
Many a burthin of grete might,
The whiche doith him laffe offence
For he that fufirith in pacience :
Thei laugh and daunce, thei trippe and fing,
And laie nought up for ther living,
But in the taverne all difpendeth
The winning whiche that God 'hem fendeth ;
Than goeth he fardils for to bere
With as gode chere as he did ere:
To fwinke and travaile' he not fainith,
For to robbin he difdainith,
But right anon after his fwinke
He goeth to taverne for to drinke.
All theſe are riche in haboundaunce
That can thus havin fuffifaunce
Well more than can an uferere,
As God well knowith, without were,
For 'an ufurere, fo God me fe,
Shall nevir for richeffe riche be,
But er more pore and indigent,
Scarce, and gredy in his entent.
For fothe it is, whom it difplefe,
There maie no marchaunt live at efe,
His herte in foche a where is fet
That it quicke brennith for to get,
Ne nevir fhall though he hath getten,
Though he have golde in garnirs yeten,
For to be nedy he dredeth fore,
Wherefore to gettin more and more
He fet his herte and his deſire :
So hote he brennith in the fire
Of covetife, that maketh him wode
To purchace othir mennis gode.
He undirfongith a grete pain
That undertaketh to drinke up Sain,
For the more that he drinkith aie
The more he levith, fothe to faie.
Thus is the thrust of falfe getting,
That lafte evir in coviting,
And the anguiſhe and the diftreffe,
With the fire of gredineffe;
She fightith with him aie and ſtriveth,
So that his herte a fondir riveth:
Soche gredineffe him affailich
That whan' he mofte hath mofte he failith.
Phificiens and advocates
Goin right by the famè yates;
Thei fell ther fcience for winning,
And haunte ther.crafte for grete getting:
Ther winning is of ſoche ſweteneffe
That if a man fall in fickeneffe
Thei are full glad for ther encrece,
For by ther will withoutin lefe
Evèriche man fhouldin be feke;
Though thei die thei fet not a leke;
Aftir whan thei the golde have take
Full little care for him thei make:
Thei would fowertie were ficke at ones,
Ye, two hundrid, in fleſhe and bones,
And yet two thouſande, as I gefle,
For to encrefin ther richeſſe.
Thei woll not worchin in no wife
But for lucre and covetife,
For phyficke ginnith firſt by (phi)
The phificien alfo fothly;
And fithen it goeth fro fie to fie
To truft on 'hem it is folie,
For thei n'il in no manir gre
Doin right nought for charite.
Eke in the fame ſectè are ſet
All tho that prechin for to get
Worſhips, and honour, and richeffe ;
Ther hertis arne in grete diſtreſſe
That folke livin not holily,
But abovin all ſpecially
Soche as yprechin veinglorie,
And towarde God have no mem❜orie,
But forthe as ipocritis trace,
And to ther foulis deth purchace,
And outward fhewing holineffe,
Though thei be full of curfidneffe:
Nat liche to the apoftlis twelve,
Thei deceive othir and 'hem felve:
Begilid is the gilir than
For preching of a curfid man:
Though it to othir maie profite
Himſelf it availeth not a mite,
For oft gode predicacioun
Cometh of evill entencioun:
To him nat availeth his preching,
All helpe he othir with his teching,
For where thei gode example take
There is he with veinglorie fhake.
But let us leven theſe prechours,
And fpeke of 'hem that in their tours
Hepe up ther golde and faft yfhet,
And fore thereon ther hertis fet:
Thei neither lovin God ne drede;
Thei kepin more than it is nede,
And in ther baggis fore it binde
Out of the funne and of the winde;
Thei puttin up more than nede ware
Whan thei fene povir folk forfare,
For hungre die, and for cold quake;
God can well vengeaunce thereof take;
The grete mifchivis 'hem affaileth,
And thus in gadring aie travaileth;
With mochil pain thei winne richeffe,
And drede 'hem holdith in diſtreffe
To kepin that thei gathir faſt :
With forowe thei leve it at laſt,
With forowe thei bothe die and live
That unto richeffe ther hertes yevc.
And in defaute of love it is,
As it fhewith full well i-wis,
For if theſe gredy, fothe to faine,
Lovidin and were loved againe,
And gode love reignid ovir all,
Soche wickidneffe ne fhould yfall,
But he ſhould yeve that mofte gode had
To 'hem that weren in nede beſtad,
And live withoutin falfe ufure,
For charite ful clene and pure;
If thei 'hem yeve unto godeneffe,
Defending 'hem from idilneſſe,
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THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
32I
1
In all this worlde than povir none
We ſhouldin finde I trowe not one.
But chaungid is this worlde unſtable,
For love is ovir all vendable:
We ſe that no man lovith now
But for his winning and for prowe;
And love is thrallid in fervage
Whan it is fold for avauntage;
Yet women wol ther bodies fell :
Soche foules goith to the devill of hell.
Whan Love had tolde, 'hem his entent
The baronage to counfaile went.
In many fentencis thei fill,
And diverfly thei faied ther will;
But aftir diſcorde thei accorded,
And ther accorde to Love recorded:
Sir, faidin thei, we ben at one,
By even accordé of everichone,
Out take Richeffe all onily,
That fwornè hath full hauteinly
That the the caftill n'ill affaile,
Ne ſmite a ſtroke in this battaile
With darte ne mace, ne fpere, ne knife
For man that ſpeketh or bereth life,
And blamith your emprife iwis,
And from our hofte departid is,
At leftè waie, as in this plite,
So hath the this man in difpite;
1
For fhe faieth he ne loved her never,
And therefore the woll hate him ever;
For he woll gathir no trefore
He hath her wrathe for evirmore;
He' agilte her nere in othir cafe,
Lo here all wholly his trefpafe!
She faicth well that this other daie
He aſked her leve to gon the waie
That is clepid to moche yeving,
And fpake full faire in his praying,
But whan he praied her poore was he,
Therefore the warned him the entre,
Ne yet is he not thrivin fo
That he hath gettin a penie or two
That quietly' is his owne in holde :
Thus hath Richeffe us all ytolde,
And whan Richeffe us this recorded
Withoutin her we ben acorded.
And we finde in our accordaunce
That Falfe Semblant and Abftinaunce,
With all the folke of ther battaile,
Shull at the hindir gate affaile
That Wickid Tong hath in keping,
With his Normans full of jangling,
And with him Curtefie and Largeffe,
That fhullin fhewe ther hardineffe
To the old wife that kept ſo hard
Faire Welcoming within her ward,
Than fhall Delite and Well-Heling
Yfondin Shame adoun to bring
With all her hofte erly and late,
Thei fhull affailin that ilke gate;.
Ayenift Drede fhall Hardineffe
Affaile and alfo Sikirneffe,
With all the folke of ther leding,
That nevir wiſte what was laying.
VOL. 1.
*
*
Fraunchiſe fhall fight and eke Pite
With Daungir ful of cruilte,
Thus is your hofte ordainid wele;
Doune fhall the caftill every dele
If everiche doe his entent,
So that Venus ybe preſent,
Your mothir, full of veſſelage,
That can inough of ſoche uſage;
Withoutin her maie no wight ſpede
This werke neither for worde ne dede,
Therefore is gode ye for her fende,
For through her maie this worke amende.
Lordinges, my mothir the goddes,
That is my ladie and maiftres,
Ne is nat all at my willing,
Ne doeth nat all my defiring;
•
Yet can fhe fometime doen labour
Whan that her lufte in my focour,
As my nede is for to atcheve,
But now I thinke her nat to greve :
My mothir is ſhe', and of childhede
I both worſhip her and eke drede,
For who that dredeth fire ne dame
Shall it abie in bodie' or name:
And natheleffe yet connè we
Sende aftir her if nede ybe,
And were the nigh fhe commin wold;
I trowe that nothing might her hold.
My mothir is of grete proweffe,
She hath tane many a fortreffe
That coft hath many' a pound er this
There I n'as not prefent iwis,
And yet men faied it was my dede:
But I come nevir in that ſtede,
Ne me ne liketh, fo mote I the,
That-foche tours ben ytake with me;
For why? me thinkith that in no wife
It maie be cleped but Marchaundiſe.
Go buie a courfir blacke or white,
And paie therefore, than art thou quite :
The marchaunt owith the right nought
Ne thou him whan thou hat it bought.
I woll not felling clepe Yeving,
For felling afketh no guerdoning;
Here lithe no thanke ne no merite,
That one goth from that othre' all quite;
But this felling is not ſemblable;
For whan his horfe is in the ftable
He maie it fell again parde,
And winnen on it, foche happe maie be,
All maie the manne nat lefe iwis,
For at the left the ſkinne is his;
Or ellis, if it fo betide
That he woll kepe his horſe to ride,
Yet is he lorde aie of his horſe;
But thilke chafare is well worfe
There Venus entremetith ought,
For who fo foche chaffare hath bought
He fhall not worchin fo wifely
That he ne ſhall leſe uttirly
X
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THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
322
ཀངྒ་
Bothe his money and his chaffare;
But the feller of thilke ware
The prife and profite havin fhall;
Certaine the buier fhall lefe all,
For he ne can fo dere it buie
To have lordſhip and full maiſtrie,
Ne havin power to make letting
Neither for yefte ne for preching,
That of his chaffare maugre his
An other ſhall have as moche iwis,
If he woll yeve as moche as he,
Of what countrey fo that he be,
Or for right nought, ſo happe ymaie,
If he can flattir her to' her paie.
And ben than foche marchauntis wife?
No, but folis in every wife:
Whan thei buie foche thing wilfully
There thei lefe ther gode folily;
But nathèleffe this dare I faie,
My mothir is not wont to paie,
For fhe' is neither fo fole ne nice
To entremete her of foche vice;
But truftith well he ſhall paie all
That repente of his bargaine fhall,
Whan Poverte' put him in diftreffe,
All were he fcholir to Richeffe,
That is for me in grete yerning
Whan the affenteth to my willing.
But by my mothir Sainct Venus,
And by her fathir Saturnus,
That her engendrid by his life,
But nat upon his weddid wife,
Yet woll I more unto you ſwerc,
To makin this thing the furere.
Now by that faithe and that beaute
That I owe to' all my brethrin fre,
Of whiche ther n'is wight undir heven
That cant her fadir's namis neven,
So divers and many there be
That with my mothre' have be prive,
Yet woll I fwere for fikirneffe
The pole of helle to my witneffe,
Now drink I not this yere clarre
If that I lie or forfworne be,
For of the goddes the uſage is
That who fo him forfwerith amis
Shall that yere drinkin no clarre.
Now have I fworne inough parde;
If I forfwere thau am I lorne;
But I woll nevir be forfworne,
Sithe Richeffe hath me failid here
She ſhall abie that trefpas dere
At leflè waie but I her harme
With fwerde, or fparth, or with gifarme.
For certis fithe fhe loveth not me,
Fro thilke time that fhe maie fe
A
The caftill and the toure to ſhake,
In forie time fhe fhall awake;
If I maie gripe a richè man
I fall fo pulle him if I can,
That he fhall in a few ftoundis
Lefe all his markes and his poundis.
I ſhall him make his pens out fling
But that thei in his garnir ſpring;
Our maidins fhall eke plucke him fo
That him fhall nedin fethirs mo,
And make him fell his londe to ſpende
But he the bet conne him defende.
دارد
Pore men han made ther lorde of me;
Although thei nat fo mightie be
That thei maie fede me in delite
I woll not have 'hem in difpite :
No gode man hateth 'hem as I geffe,
For chinche and feloun is Richeffe,
That ſo can chafe 'hem and defpife,
And 'hem defoule in fondrie wife:
Thei loven full bette, fo God me ſpede,
Than doith the riche chinchý grede,
And ben (in gode faith) more ſtable,
And truir and more ferviable,
And therefore it fuffifith me
Ther gode hertis and ther beaute :
Thei han on me ſet all their thought,
And therefore I for yete 'hem nought.
·
I woll 'hem bring in grete nobleſſe,
If that I were god of Richeſſe,
As I am god of Love fothely,
Soche ruthe upon ther plaint have I;
Therefore I muft his fuccour be
That painith him to fervin me,
For if he deied for love of this
Than femith in me no love there is.
Sir, faied thei, fothe is every dele
That ye reherce, and we wote wele
Thilke othe to holde is refonable,
For it is gode and covenable
That ye on riche men han yfworne;
For, Sir, this wote we well beforne,
If riche men doin you homage
That is as folis doen outrage;
But ye fhull not forfworne ybc,
Ne let therefore to drinke clarrie,
Or piment makid frethe and newe:
Ladies fhull 'hem foche pepir brewe
If that thei fall into their laas
That thei for wo mowe faine Alas!
Ladies fhullen ere fo curteis be
That thei fhall quite your othe all fre;
Ne feketh nevir othir visaire,
For thei fhall fpeke with 'hem fo fairc
That ye fhall holde you paied full wele,
Though ye you medle nere a dele.
Let ladies worchin with ther thinges,
Thei fhall 'hem tell fo fele tidinges,
And move fo many requeftis,
By flatterie, that not honeft is,
And thereto yeve 'hem foche thankinges,
What with killing and with talkinges,
That certis if thei trowid be
Shall nevir leve 'hem londe ne fe
That it n'ill as the moeble fare,
Of whiche thei firft delivered are.
Now maie you tell us all your will,
And we your heftis ſhall fulfill.
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THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
333
1
But Falfe Semblant dare not for drede
Of you, Sir, medle' him of this dede,
For he faith that ye ben his fo,
He n'ot if ye woll worche him wo;
Wherefore we praie you all, beau Sire,
That ye foryeve him now your ire,
And that he maie dwell as your man
With abftinence his dere lemman :
This our accorde and our will now.
Parfci, faied Love, I graunt it you
I woll well holde him for my man;
Now let him come: and he forthe ran.
Falfe Semblant, (quod Love) in this wife
I take the here to my ſervice,
'That thou our frendis helpe alwaic,
And hindre 'hem neither night ne daie,
But doe thy might 'hem to releve,
And cke our en'mies that thou greve :
Thine be this might; I graunt it the;
My king of Harlotes fhalt thou be:
We woll that thou have foche honour:
Certain thou art a falſe traitour,
And eke a thief; fithe thou were borne
A thouſande times thou art forfworne:
But nathèleffe in our hering,
To put our folke out of doubting,
I bidde the teche 'hem, woft thou how?
By fome genèrall figne now,
In what place thou fhalt foundin be
If that men had miſtir of the,
And how men fhall the beſt eſpie,
For the to knowe is grete maiſtre:
Tell in what place is thine haunting.
Sir, I have fully divers wonning
That I kepe not reherſid be,
So that ye would refpitin me,
For if that I tell you the fothe
I maie have harme and fhamè bothe?
If that my felawes wiſtin it
My talis fhouldin me be quit,
For certaine thei would hatè me
If er I knewe ther cruelte,
For thei would ore all hold 'hem ftill
Of trothe that is again ther will:
Soche talis kepin thei not here;
I might eftfone buie it full dere
If I faied of 'hem any thing
That difplefith to ther hering,
For what word that 'hem pricketh or biteth
In that worde non of 'hem deliteth,
All were it goſpell the' Evangile,
That would reprove 'hem of ther gile,
For thei are cruill and hautain;
And this thing wote I well certain,
If I fpeke ought to paire or loos
Your courte fhall not fo well be cloos
That thei ne fhall wite it at laſt :
Of gode men am I nought agaft,
For thei woll taken on 'hem nothing
Whan that thei knowe all my mening,
But he that woll it on him take
He woll himſelf fufpecious make
That he his life let covirtly
In Gile and in Ypocrifie,
'That me' engendrid and yave fuftring,
Thei made a full gode engendring,
(Quod Love) for who fo fothly tell
Thei engendrid the divell of hell.
But nedely, howfocre it be,
(Quod Love) I will and charge the
To tell anon thy wonning placis
Hering eche wight that in this place is,
And what life thou liviſt alſo,
Hide it no lengir now; wherto?
Thou muſt difeovre' all thy worching,
How thou fervift, and of what thing,
Though that thou fhouldeſt for thy foth-faw
Ben all to-betin and to-drawe,
And yet art thou not wont parde;
But natheleffe though thou betin be
Thou shalt not be the firſt that fo
Hath for fothfawe yfuffirid wo,
Sir, fithe that it maie likin you,
Though that I fhould be flain right now,
I fhall doen your commaundèment,
For thereto have I grete talent.
Withoutin wordis mo, right than
Falſe Semblant his fermon began,
And faied 'hem thus in audience:
Barons, take hede of my fentence.
That wight that lift to have knowing
Of Falſe Semblant, full of flatt'ring,
He must in worldly folke him feke,
And certis in the cloiftirs eke;
I won no where but in 'hem twaie,
But not like evin, fothe to faie :
Shortly, I woll herberowe me
There I hope beſt to hulſtrid be;
And certainly fikereft hiding
Is undirneth humblift clothing.
Religious folke ben full covert,
Seeuler folke ben more appert;
But natheleffe I woll not blame
Religious folke, ne 'hem diffame,
In what habite that er thei go;
Religion humble' and true alfo
Woll I not blamin ne difpife,
But I n'ill love it in no wife;
1 mene of falſe religious,
That ftout ben and malicious,
'That wollin in an habite go
And fettin not ther herte thereto.
Religious folke ben all pitous,
Thou shalt not fene one difpitous;
Thei lovin no pride ne no ftrife,
But humbly thei woll lede ther life,
With whiche folke woll I nevir be,
And if I dwell I fainè me
I'maie well their habite go;
But me were lever my necke a two
Then let a purpoſe that I take,
What covenaunt that er I make.
I dwell with 'hem that proude ybe,
And full of wiles and fubtilte,
That worship of this worlde coveiten,
And grete nede connin expleiten,
}
Xij
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THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
And gon and gadrin grete pitaunces,
And purchaſe 'hem the acqueitaunces
Of men that mightie life maie leden,
And faine 'hem pore, and 'hem felf feden
With gode morcils delicious,
And drinkin gode wine precious,
And preche us povert and diftreffe,
And fifhin 'hem felf grete richeffe
With wily nettis that thei caft:
It woll come foule out at the laſt.
Thei ben fro clene religion went;
Thei make the worlde an argument
That hath a foul conclufion :
I have a robe of religion,
Than am I all religious :
This argument is all roignous;
It is not worth a crokid brere:
Habite ne makith monke ne frere,
But clene life and devocion
Makith gode men of religion.
Natheleffe there can none anfwere,
How high that er his hedde he fhere
With rafour whettid nere fo kene,
That gile in braunchis cutte thurtene,
There can no wight diftinct it fo
That he dare faie a word therto.
But what herb'row that ere I take,
Or what fenablaunt that er I make,
I mene but gile, and folowe that,
For right no more than Gibbe our cat
(That awaiteth mice and rattes to killen)
Nę entende I but to begilen:
Ne no wight maie by my clothing
Wete with what folke is my dwelling,
Ne by my wordis yet parde,
So foft and fo plefaunt thei be.
Beholde the dedis that I doe,
But thou be blinde thou oughtiſt fo,
For varie ther wordes fro ther dede
Thei thinke on gile withoutin drede,
What manir clothing that thei were,
Or what eſtate that ere thei bere,
Ierid or leude, lorde or ladie,
Knight, fquier, burgeis, or bailie.
Right thus while Falfe Semblant fermoneth
Eft fonis Love him arefoncth,
And brake his tale in his fpeking
As though he had him tolde lefing,
And faid, What devill is that I here?
What folke haft thou us nempnid here?
Maie men findin religioun
In worldly habitacioun ?
Ye, Sir, it foloweth nat that thei
Should lede a wickid life parfei,
Ne not therefore ther foulis lefe
That 'hem to worldly clothis chefe,
For certis it were grete pite;
Men maie in feculer clothes fe
Florifhin holy religioun
Ful many' a faint in felde and toun,
With many a virgine glorious,
Devoute and full religious,
Han died that commin clothe aie beren,
Yet fainais nertheleffe thei weren:
I could reckin you many a ten,
Ye, welnigh all theſe holy women
That men in churchis herry' and ſeke,
Bothe maidins and thefe wivis eke,
That bare ful many' a faire childe here,
Werid alway clothis feculere,
And in the fame clothes didin they
That faintis weren and ben alway.
The ix thouſande maidinis dere,
That beren in heven ther ciergis clere,
Of whiche men rede in churche and fing,
Were take in feculer clothing,
Whan thei recevid martirdome,
And wonnin heven unto ther home.
Gode hert ymakith the gode thought,
The clothing yeveth ne revith nought:
The gode thought and the gode worching
That maketh the religion flouring;
There lieth the gode religioun
Aftir the righte entencioun,
Who fo ytoke a wethir's ſkinne,
And wrapped a gredy woulfe therinn,
For he ſhould go with lambis white,
Wenift thou not he would 'hem bite?
Yes; nertheleffe as he were wode
He would 'hem wirry', and drinke the blode
And wel the rathir 'hem difceve,
For fithin thei coude nat perceve
His tregette and his cruilte
Thei would him folow tho he flie.
If there be wolvis of fuche hewe
Amongis theſe apoſtlis newe,
Thou, holy churche, thou maiſte be wailed;
Sithe that thy cite is aflailed
Through knightis of thine ownè table
God wot thy lordſhip is doutable :
If thei enforcin it to win
That fhould defend it fro within
Who might defence ayenſt 'hem make?
Withoutin ftroke it mote be take
Of trepeget or mangonell,
Without difplaying of penfell;
And if God n'il done it focour,
But let remain in this colour,
Thou muſt thy heftis lettin be;
Than is there nought but yeldè the,
Or yeve 'hem tribute doutilefs,
And holde it of 'hem to have pees:
But gretir harme betidith the
That thei all maiftir of it be:
Wel con thei fcornin the withall,
By day yftuffin thei the wall,
And al the night thei minin there :
Nay, thou plantin muſt ellis where
Thine impis if thou wolt frute have;
Abide not there thyfelf to fave.
But now pece; here I turne againe ;
I wol no more of this thing faine,
Yf I may paffin me hereby,
For I might makin you wery ;
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
225
But I wol hetin you alway
To helpe your frendis what I may,
So thei wollin my company,
For thei be fhent all uttirly;
But if fo fallin that I be
Oftin with 'hem and thei with me,
And eke my lemman mote thei ſerve,
Or thei fhul not thy love deferve
Forſoth I am a falſe traitour;
God judged me for a thefe trechour:
Forfworne I am, but wel nigh none
Wote of my gile til it be done.
Through me hath many' one deth receved
That my treget ner aperceved,
And yet receveth, and fhal receve,
That my falfneffe fhal nere perceve;
But who ſo doth, if he wife be,
Him is right gode beware of me;
But fo flighe is the perceiving,
That al to late comith knowing,
For Froteus, that coude him chaunge,
In every fhappe homely and ftraunge,
Coude nevir fuche gile ne trefoune
As I, for I come nere in toune
There as I might yknowin be
Though men me both might here and fee;
Ful wel I can my clothis chaunge,
Take one and make an othir ftraunge;
Now am I knight, now chaftèlaine,
Now prelate, and nowe chapèlaine,
Now priest, now clerke, and now foſtere,
Now am I maiſtir, now ſcholere,
Now monke, now chanon, now baily;
Whatevir miſtir manne am I.
Now am I prince, now am I page,
And can by hert ev'ry language;
Somtimis am I hore and olde,
Now I am yong, and ftout, and bolde,
Now am I Robert, now Robin,
Now Frere Minor, now Jacobin:
And with me foloweth my loteby
To done me folace and comp'any,
That hight Dame Abſtinence, and raigned
In many a queint arraie fained;
Right as it commeth to her liking
I fulfill all her defiring.
Somtime a woman's clothe take I,
Now am I a maide, now lady :
Somtime I am religious,
Now like an ankir in an hous:
Somtime am I a prioreffe,
And now a nonne, and now abbeſſe,
And go thorough all regiounes
Yfeking all religiounes.
But to what ordir that I' am fworne
I take the ftrawe and bete the corne:
To jolie folke I enhabite
I afke no more but ther habite.
What wol ye more? in every
Right as me lift I me difgifc.
wife
Wel can I bere me undir wede,
Unlike is my worde to my dede.
Thus make I into my trappes fall
The folke through my privilegis all
That ben in Chriſtendome a live..
I may affoile and I may fhrive,
That no prelate may lettin me,
All folke where evir thei found be:
I n'ot no prelate maie don fo
But it the Pope be, and no mo.
That madin thilke eſtabliſhinng:
Now is not this a propre thing?
But were by flightis aperceved
As I was wont, and woft thou why?
For I did 'hem a tregetry;
But therof yeve I' a litil tale,
I have the filvir and the male.
So have I prechid and ake fhriven,
So have I take, fo have I yeven,
Through ther foly hufbonde and wife;
That I lede right a joly life:
Through fimpleffe of the prelacie
Thei know not all my tregettrie.
But for as moche as man and wife
Shuld fhew ther pariſh prieſt ther life
Onis a yere, as faith the boke,
Er any wight his houfil toke,
Then have I privilegis large
That maie of mochil thing diſcharge,
For he may fay right thus parde:
Sir Prieft, in fhrift I tel it the,
That he to whom that I am fhriven
Hath me affoilid, and me yeven
Penaunce fothly for alle my fin
Whiche that I founde me giltie in ;
Ne Ine' have nevir entencion
To make double confeffion,
Ne rcherce efte my fhrift to the;
O fhrifte is right enough to me;
This ought the to fuffifin wele,
Ne be not rebell nere a dele,
For certis though thou haddeſt it ſworne,
I wote no prieſt ne prelate borne
That maie to fhrift eft me conſtraine,
And if thei done I wol me plaine,
For I wote where to plainin wele:
Thou shalt not freinin me a dele,
Ne enforce me ne not me trouble
To makin my confeffion double:
Ne I have none affection
To' have double abfolucion;
The firſt is right inough to me;
This lettre' affoiling quite I the:
I am unbounde; what maift thounda
More of my finnes me to unbinde,
For he that might hath in his honde
Of all my finnis me unbounde?
And if thou wolt me thus conſtraine,
That me mote nedis on the plaine,
There fhall no juge imperiall,
Ne bishop ne officiall,
Done judgement on me,
Shal gone and plaine me opinly
for I
336
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
Anon to any fhriftfathir newe,
Whiche that hight Frere Wolfe untrewe,
And he fhal chufin him for me,
For I trowe he can hampir the;
But Lord! he would be wrothe withall
Yf men would him Frere Wolfe y call,
For he would have no pacience,
But done ali cruill vengience;
He would his might done at the left,
'Than nothing fpare for Godd'is heft;
And God fo wife be my focour
But thou yeve me my Saviour
At Eftir, whan it likith me,
Withoutin prefing more on the,
I wol forth and to him ygone,
And he ſhal houfil me anone,
For I am out of thy grutching;
Į kepe not dele with the nothing.
Thus may he fhrive him that forfaketh
His pariſh prieft and to me taketh,
And if the priest wol him refuſe
I am full redy him to' accufe,
And him puniſh and hampir fo
'That he his churchè fhal forgo.
But who fo hath in his feling
The confequence of fuche fhriving
Shal fene that prieft maie nere have might
To know the confcience aright
Of him that is undir his cure;
And this is ayenft holy' fcripture,
That biddith every herde honeft
Have very knowing of his beft;
But povir folke, that gon by ftrete,
That have no golde ne fummis grete,
Them would I let to ther prelates
Or let ther prjeftis know ther ſtates,
For to me right nought yevin thei,
And why it is, for thej ne may.
Thci ben fo bare I take no kepe,
But I woll havin the fat fhepe;
Let parish prieftis have the lene;
I yeve not of ther harme a bene:
And if that prelatis grutche it,
That oughtin wroth be in ther wit
'To lefin ther fat beftis fo,
Ifhal yeve hem a ftroke or two,
So that thei fhal lefin with force
Ye, both ther mitre and ther croce.
Thus jape I' hem, and have do longe,
My privilegis ten fo ftrong.
Falfe Semblant would have ftintid here,
But Love ne made hini no fuche chere,
That he was wery of his fawe,
But for to make him glad and fawe
He ſaid, Tell on more ſpecially
How that thou feryift untruly;
Tel forth, and fhame the nere a deles
For as thine habit fhewith wele,
Thou fervelt an holy herèmite.
Sothe is but I'am but an ipocrite,
Thou goeft and prechift poverte.
Ye, Sir, but Richeffe hath pofte,
Thou prechiſt abſtinence alſo.
Sir, I woll filler, fo mote I go,
A
My paunche of gode mcte and gode wine,
As fhould a majftir of divine,
For how that I ne povir faine
Yet al povir folke I difdaine.
I love bettir the acqueintaunce
Ten timis of the King of Fraunce
Than of a pore man of milde modę
Though that his foule be all fo gode,
For whan Ife beggirs quaking,
Nakid on mixins all ſtinking,
For hungre cric and eke for care,
I entrement not of ther fare;
Thei ben fo pore and ful of pine,
Thei might not ones yeve me a dine,
For thei have nothing but ther life;
What frould be eve that licketh his knife?
Neve
It is but foly to' entremete
To feke in hounde'is neſt fat mete :
Let bere him to the fpittle' anonc,
But for me comfort get thei none:
But a full riche ficke ufurere
Would I vifitin and drawe nere ;
Him would I comforte and rehete,
For I hope of his golde to gete;
And if that wickid Deth him have,
I woll go with him in his grave;
And if there any reprove me
Why that I let the povir be,
Woft thou how I know how to' aſcape?
I fay and fwerin him full rape
That richè men han more tetchis
of finne than han thefe pore wretchie,
And han of counfaile more miftere,
And therfore I would drawe 'hem nere:
But as gret hurt, it maie ſo be,
Hath foule in right grete poverte,
As foule in grete richeffe forfothe,
Al be it that thei hurtin bothe,
For richeffe and mendicitees
Bene clepid two extremitees,
The mene is clepid Suffifaunce,
There lieth of vertue the' aboundaunce.
For Salomon, ful wel I wote,
In his wife Parablis us wrote,
As it is knowen of many' a wight,
In his thirtieth chapitir right,
God thou me kepe for thy pofte
Fro richeſſe and mendicite,
For if a richè man him dreffe
To thinkin to moche on richeſſe
His hert on that fo ferre is fette
That he' his Creatour doth foryette,
And him that beggith woll aie greve,
How should I by his worde him leve
Unneth that he n'is a micher
Foriworne, or els Godd'is lier?
Thus fayith Salomon'is fawes.
Ne we find writtin in no lawes,
And namely in our Chriſtin laie,
Who fo faith ye I dare fay naie,
That Chrift ne his apoftils dere
While that thei walkid in erth here,
5
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE
327
Were nevir fene herbrid begging,
For they n'olde beggin for nothing.
And right thus were men wout to teche.
And in this wife wouldin it preche
The maiftirs of divinite
Somtime in Paris the cite.
And if men would there gaine appoſe
The nakid texte and let the glofe,
It mightin fone affoilid be,
For men may wel the fothe yfe,
That pardie thei might afke a thing
Plainly forth withoutin begging,
For they weren Godd'is herdis dere,
And cure of foulis haddin here,
Thei ne wolde nothing begge ther fode,
For aftir Chriſt was done on rode
With ther propir hondis thei wrought,
And with traveile, and ellis nought,
Thei wonnin al their fuftinaunce,
And lividin forth in ther penaunce,
And the remenaunt yaf awaie
To othir pore folkis alwaie.
Thei neithir bildin toure ne hall,
But thei in houfis fmal with alle.
A mighty man, that can and maie,
Should with his honde and body' alwaie,
Winne him his fode in labouring,
Yf he ne' have rent or fuche a thing:
Although he be religious,
And God to fervin curious,
Thus mote he done or do trefpas,
But if it be in certaine caas,
'That I can telle if miftir be
Right wel whan that the time I ſe.
Seke the boke of Saincte Auguftine,
Be it in papir or perchemene,
There as he writte of thefe worchinges,
Thou shalt fene that none excufinges
A perfite man ne ſhould yfeke
By wordis ne by dedis eke,
Although he be religious
And God to fervin curious,
That he ne fhal fo mote I go,
With propir hondes and body' allo
Yget his fode in laboring,
Yf he ne' have properte of thing,
Yet ſhould he fel all his fubftaunce,
And with his fwinke have fuftinaunce,
If he be parfite in bounte;
Thus han the bokis tolde me :
For he that wol gone idilly,
And ufith it aie befily
To hauntin othir menn'is table,
He is a trechour full of fable,
Ne he ne maie by gode refon
Excufe him by his orifon,
For men behovith in ſome gife
Ben fomtime out of God's fervife,
To gon and purchaſin ther nede.
Men mote etin, that is no drede,
And flepe, and eke do othir thing,
And ſo long may thei leve praying.
So may they eke ther praiere blinne
While that thei werke ther mete to winne;
Seint Auſtin wol therto accorde
In thilke boke that I recorde.
Juftinian eke, that made lawes,
Hath thus forbodin by olde fawes.
No man, up paine for to be ded,
Mighty' of body, to begge his bred
Yf he may fwinke it for to gete;
Men fhould him rathir maime or bete,
Or done of him aperte juftice,.
Than fuffrin him in fuche malice,
Thei done not wel, fo mote I go,
Whiche that takin fucke almeffe fo,
But if thei have ſome privilege
That of the paine 'hem woll alege.
But how that is can I not ſe'
But if the prince diſcevid be;
Ne I ne wene not fikirly
That thei maie have it rightfully.
But yet I wol not determine
Of princis powir ne define,
Ne by my worde compre'hende iwis,
Yfit fo ferre may ftretche in this;
I wol nat entremete a dele
But I trowe that the boke faith wele,
Who that taketh almeffis that be
Dewe to folke that men may yſe
Lame and feble, wery and bare,
Povir, or in fuche manir care,
That con winnin 'hem nevir mo,
For thei havin no power therto,
He etith his ownè dampning,
But if he lie that made al thing;
And if ye fuche a truaunt finde,
Chaftife him wel if ye be kinde;
But thei would hatin you parcaas
If that ye fillin in ther laas.
Thei would eftfonis do you feathe,
If that thei mightin, late or rathe,
For thei be not ful pacient
That han the worlde thus foule yblent :
And wetith wel that God ybad
The gode man fell al that he had
And folowe' him, and to pore it yeve:
He would not therfore that he live
To fervin him in mendience,
For it was nevir his fentence,
But he bad werke whan that nede is,
And folowe him in gode dedis.
Saint Poule, that loved al holy church,
He bade th' apoftils for to wurch,
And winne ther livelode in that wife,
And 'hem defendid truandife,
And fayid, Werkith with your honden;
Thus fhould the thing be underſtonden.
He n'olde iwis have bid 'hem begging,
Ne fellin gofpell ne preching,
Left thei berafte with ther afking
Folke of ther cattle or of ther thing.
For in this world is many' a man
That yeveth his gode, for he ne can
Werne it for fhame, or ellis he
Would of the' afkir delivered be,
墨
​X iiij
328
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
3
And for he him encombrith fo
He yeveth him g de to let him go:
But it can him nothing profite;
Thei lefe the yeſte and the merite.
The gode folke that St. Poule to preched
Profrid him ofte, whan he 'hem teched,
Some of ther gode in charite,
But therof right nothing toke he,
But of his hondis would he gette
Clothis to wrine him, and his mete.
Tel me than how a man may liven
That al his gode to pore hath yeven,
And wol but onely bidde his bedes,
And ner with hondes labour his nedes,
May he do fo? Ye, Sir. And howe?
Sir, I woll gladly tellin you.
Saint Auſtin faith, A man may be
In houfis that han properte,
As Templers and Hofpitèlers,
And as thefe Chanons Regulers,
Or theſe White Monkis, or thefe Blake,
I wol no mo enfamplis make,
And take thereof his fufteining,
For therin lyith no begging,
But othirwayis not iwis,
Yet Auſtin gabbith not of this;
And yet ful many' a monke laboureth
That God in holy churche honoureth,
For whan ther fwinking is agon
Thei rede and fing in church anonc.
And for there hath ben grete difcorde
As many' a wight may bere recorde,
Upon the' eftate of mendicience,
I wol fhortely in your prefence
Tel how a man maie begge at nede,
That hath not wherwith him to fede,
Maugre his felowis janglinges,
For fothfaftnes wol none hidinges,
And yet percafe I may obey,
That I to you fothly thus fey.
Lo, here the cafe eſpeciall:
If a man be ſo beftiall
That he of no crafte hath ſcience,
And nought defirith ignorence,
Than may he go a begging yerne
Till he fome othir crafte can lerne,
Through whiche withoutin truanding
He may in trouthe have his living :
Or if he may done no labour
For elde, or fickeneſſe, or langour,
Or for his tendir age alſo,
Than may he yet a begging go:
Or if he have peravinture
Through ufage of his noriture
Livid ovir deliciously,
Than oughtin gode folke cominly
Han of his mifchefe fome pite,
And fuffrin him alfo that he
May gon about and begge his bred
"That he be not for hongir ded:
Or if he have of crafte conning,
And ſtrength alſo and defiring
For to worchin, as he had what,
But he finde neithir this ne that,
Than may he beggin til that he
Have gettin his neceffite:
may he go his brede begging,
3
Or if his winning be ſo lite
That his labour will not quite
Sufficiauntly al his living,
Yet
Fro dore to dore he may go trace
Till he the remnaunt may purchaſe:
Or if a man would undirtake
Any emprife for to ymake
In the réfcous of our lay,
And it defendin as he may,
Be it with armis or lettrure,
Or other convenable cure,
If it be fo that he pore be,
Than may he beggin til that he
Maie findin in trouth for to fwinke,
And get him clothis, mete, and drinke,
Swinke he with his hondes corporel,
And not with hondes efpirituel.
In all this cafe, and in femblables,
If that there ben mo reſonables,
He maic begge as I tell you here,
And ellis not in no manere,
As William Saint Amour would preche,
And oftin would difpute and teche
Of this matir al opinly
At Paris fully' and folemply;
And all fo God my foulè bleffe
As he had in this ftedfaftneffe
The' acorde of the' Univerſite,
And of the peple', as femith me.
No gode man ought it to refuſe,
Ne ought him thereof to excufe,
Be wrothe or blithe, who fo thou be,
For I wol fpeke and tell it the
All ſhould I die and be put doun,
As was Saint Poule, in derke prifoun,
Or be exilid in this caas
With wrong, as Maiftir William was,
That my mothir Hypocrifie
Banifhed for her gret envie.
My mothir flemed him Saint Amour :
This noble man did fuche labour
To fufteine er the loialte,
That he to muche agiltè me:
He made a boke and let it write,
Wherin his life he did all dite,
And would that eche renied begging,
And livin by my traveiling,
If I ne' had rent ne othir gode;
What! wenith he that I were wode?
For labour might me nevir pleſe,
I have more will to hen at eſe,
And have well levir, fothe to faie,
Before the peple pattre' and praie,
And wrie me in my foxerie
Undir a cope of papelardie
:
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
329
}
{Quod Love) What divel is this I here?
What wordis tellift thou me here?
What, Sir, Why Falfeneffe that apert is.
Than dredift thou not God? No, certis ;
For felde in grete thing fhal he ſpede
In this world that God wol ydrede,
For folke that 'hem to vertue yeven,
And truily on ther owne liven,
And 'hem in godeneffe aie contente,
On 'her is litil thrifte ifente :
Suche folke ydrinkin grete miſeſe;
That life ne may me nevir pleſe.
But fe what golde han uſerers,
And filvir eke, in ther garners!
Tailagiers, and theſe moniours,
Bailiffes, bedils, provoftes, contours,
Thefe livin well nigh by ravine;
The fmale peple 'hem mote encline,
And thei as wolvis wol 'hem eten;
Upon the povir folke thei geten
Ful muche of that thei ſpende or kepe;
N'is none of 'hem that thei n'il ftrepe,
And wrine 'hem felvin well at full
i
Withoutin fcalding thei 'hem pull:
The ftrong the feble ovirgothe,
But I that were my ſimple clothe
Robbe bothe the robbid and robbours,
And gile the gilid and gilours;
By my treget I gathre' and threfte
The grete trefour into my chefte,
That lieth with me fo fafte ybounde;
Thus myn high paleis do I founde,
And by my delitis I fulfill
With wine at feftis at my will,
And tablis full of extremees:
I wol no life but efe and pees,
And winnin golde to ſpende alſo,
For whan the grete bagge is ago
It comith full right with my japes,
Make I not wel tomble mine apes?
To winnen is alwaie mine entent;
My purchace' is bettir than my rent;
For though that I ſhould betin be
Ovir al I entremet me:
Withoutin me maie no wight dure;
I walkin foulis for to cure :
Of all the world the cure have I
In brede and eke in length; boldly
I wol bothe preche and eke counſailen :
With hondis wol I not travailen,
For of the Pope I have the bull;
I ne holde not my wittis dull:
I wol not ftintin in my live
Thefe emperouris for to fhrive,
Or kingis, dukes, and lordis grete,
But povir folke al quite I lete :
I love no fuche fhriving parde
But it for othir cauſe ybe :
I recke not of theſe povir men;
Ther eftate is not worthe an hen.
Wher findeft thou' a fwinkir of labour
Have me to be his confeffoure?
But empreffis and ducheffis,
Thefe quenis and cke counteffie,
Theſe abbeffis and eke bigins,
And theſe grete ladies palafins,
Thefe joly knightis and bailives,
Thefe nonnis and theſe burgeis wives,
That riche yben and eke pleſing,
And theſe maidinis welfaring,
Where fo thei clad or nakid be,
Uncounfailed goeth there none fro me;
And for ther foulis favite
At lorde and lady', and ther meine,
I aſke, whan thei 'hem to me ſhrive,
The propertie of al ther live,
And make 'hem trowe, both mofte and left,
Ther parish prieſt is but a beft
Ayens me and my company,
That fhrewis ben as gret as I,
Fro whiche I wol not hide in holde
No privite that me is tolde,
That I by worde or figne iwis
Ne wol make 'hem know what it is,
And thei wollen alfo tellin me
Thei hele fro me no privite ;
And for to make you them perceiven
That ufin folke thus to deceiven,
I wol you faine withoutin drede
What men maie in the Gofpell rede
Of Sainct Mathewe the gofpellere,
That faieth as I fhall you faic here,
Upon the chairè of Mofes
Thus it is glofid doutilefs,
(That is, The Oldè Teftament,
For thereby is the chairè ment)
Sittin Scribis and Pharifen,
That is to faine, the curfid men,
Whiche that we Ipocritis call;
Doeth that thei preche I rede you all;
But doeth not as thei doen a dele
That ben not werie to faie wele,
But thei doe well no will have thei,
And thei would binde on folke alwaie,
That ben to be begilid able,
Burdons that ben importable;
On folkis ſhouldirs thinges thei couchen,
That thei n'ill with ther fingirs touchen;
And why woll thei not touch it? why!
For them ne lifte nat fikirly,
For the fadde burdons that men taken
Ymakin folkis fhouldirs aken.
And if thei doe ought that gode be
That is for folke it fhouldin fe;
Ther burdons largir makin thei,
And makin ther hemmes wide alwaie,
And lovin fetis at the table
The firft and the mofte honourable;
And for to han the firſt chairis
In finagogges to 'hem full dere is,
And willen that folke 'hem loute and grete
Whan that thei paflin through the ftrete,
And wollen be cleped Maiftir alfo;
But thei ne ſhould not willin fo,
The Gofpell' is there ayenſt I geffe,
That fhewith well ther wickidneffe,
330
ROSE.
THE ROMAUNT OF THE
An othir cuftome ufin we;
Of 'hem that woll ayenft us be
We hate him dedl, everychone,
And we woll werrey him as one;
Him that one hatith hate we all,
And conjecte how to doen him fall;
And if we fene him winne honour,
Richeffe or preife, through his valour,
Provende or rent, or dignite,
Full faſteiwis compaffin we
By what laddre' he is clombin fo;
And for to make him doune to go
With traifon we woll him defame,
And doen him lefin his gode name.
Thus from his laddir we him take,
And thus his frendis foes we make,
But worde ne wetin fhall he none
Till al his frendis ben his fone;
For if we did it opinly
We might have blame redily,
For had he wifte of our malice
He had him kept but he were nice.
An othir' is this, that if fo fall
That there be one emong us all
That doeth a gode tourne, out-of drede
We faine it is our aldir dede,
Ye, fikirly though he it fained,
Or that him lifte or that him dained
A man through him avauncid be,
Thereof all partineres be we,
And tellin folke where fo we go
That man through us is fprongin ſo,
And for to have of men praifing
We purchace through our flattering
Of richè men of grete pofte
Lettirs to witneffe our bounte,
So that man weneth that maie us fe
That alle vertue in us be.
And alwaie povir we us fain,
But how ſo that we begge or plain
We ben the folke without lefing,
That all thing have without having.
Thus be dradde of the peple' iwis,
And gladly my purpoſe is this:
I delin with no wight but he
Have golde and trefour grete plente;
Ther acquaintaunce well lovin I;
This moche is my deſire fhortly;
I entremete me of brocages,
I makin pece and mariages,
I am gladly executour,
And many times a procuratour,
I am ſometime a meſſagere,
That fallith not to my miftere.
And many timis I make enqueft,
For me that office is nat honeft;
To dele with othir mennis thing
That is to me a grete liking;
And if that ye have ought to doc
In place that I repairin to,
I fhall it fpedin through my witte
As fone as ye have told me it:
So that ye fervin me to paie
My fervice fhal be yours alwaie,
But who fo wol chaftife me
Anone my love ylofte hath he,
For I love no man in no giſe
That woll me reprove or chaftife,
But I woll all folke undirtake,
And of no wight no teching take;
For I that othir folke chaflie
Woll not be taught fro my folic.
I ne love none hermitage more;
Al defertis and holtis hore.
And grete wodis evèrichone
I let 'hem to the Baptift John;
I queth him quite, and him releffe,
Of Egypt all the wildirneffe:
To ferre were all my manfiouns
Fro allè citees and gode touns.
My paleis and mine houſe make I
There men maie renne in opinly
And faie that I the worlde forfake;
But all amidde I builde and make
My houfe, and fwimme and plaie therein
Bette than a fifhe doth with his finne.
Of Antichrift'is men am I
Of whiche that Chrift faieth opinly
Thei have habite of holineffe,
And livin foche wickidneffe.
Al' outward lambin femin we,
Full of godeneffe and of pitc,
And inwarde we withoutin fable
Ben gredy wolvis raviſable.
We enviroun bothe londe and fe;
With all the worlde werryin we a
We woll ordain of allê thing,
Of folkis gode and ther living.
If there be caftill or cite
Within that any bougerons be,
Although that thei of Millaine were,
For therof bẹn thei blamid there;
Or if a wight out of mefure
Would lene ther gold and take uſure,
For that he is ſo covetous,
Or if he be to lechirous,
Or thefe that hauntin fimonie,
Or provoſt full of trechirie,
Or prelate living jolilie,
Or prieſt that halt his quein him by,
Or olde whoris hoftilers,
Or othir baudes or bordillers,
Or ellis blamed of any vice,
Of whiche men ſhouldin doen juſtice ;
By all the fainctis that we preic,
But thei defende them with lampreic,
With luce, with elis, with famons,
With tendir gees and with capons,
With tartis or with cheffis fat,
With deinte flaunis brode and flat,
With caleweis or with pullaile,
With coninges or with fine vitaile,
That we undir our clothis wide
Ymakin through our golet glide,
:
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
Or but he woll doe come in hafte
Rae venifon ybake in paſte,
Whethir fo that he loure or groine
He shall have of a corde a loigne,
With whiche men fhall him binde and lede
To brenne him for his finfull dede,
That men fhull here him crie and rore
A mil'is waie about and more,
Or els he ſhall in prifon die
But if he woll his frendſhip buie,
Or fmertin that that he hath doe
More than his gilt amounțith to.
But and he couthe thorough his fleight
Doe makin up a toure of height,
Nought rought I wher of flone or tree,
Or yerth or turvis, though it be,
Though it were of no voundè ſtone
Ywrought with fquare and fcantilone,
So that the toure were ftuffid well
With allè richis temporell;
And than that he would him up dreſſe
Enginis bothê more and leffe,
To cafte at us by every fide,
To berin his gode name wide.
Soche fleightis I fhullin you yeven,
Barelles of wine by fixe or feven,
Or golde in fackis grete plente,
He should though fone delivered be;
And if he have no fuche pitences
Let him ftudie' in equipolences,
And lerin lies and fallaces,
If that he would deferve our graces,
Or we fhall bere him foche witneſſe
Of finne and of his wretchidneffe,
And doen his lofe fo widè renne,
That all quicke we ſhouldin him brenne,
Or ellis yeve hem foche penaunce
That is well worſe than the pitaunce.
For thou shalt nevir for nothing
Con knowen aright by ther clothing
The traitours full of trechèrie
But thou ther werkis can efpie.
And ne had the godè keping be
Whilom of the' Univerfite,
That kepeth the kei of Chriftendome,
We' had ben tourmentid all and fome.
Soche ben the ftinking Prophetis;
N'is none of 'hem that gode prophete is,
For thei through wickid entencion,
The yere of the' incarnacion
A thoufande and two hundrid yere
Five-and-fifte, ferther ne nere,
Broughtin a boke with forie'grace,
To yeven enfample in common place,
That fayid thus, though it were fable,
This the Gofpell pardurable
That fro the Holie Ghoft is fent :
Well were it worthy to be ybrent,
Entitlid was in foche manere
This boke of whiche I tell here,
There n'as no wight in al Pariş
Beforne our Ladie at parvis
That thei ne might the bokè by;
The ſentence plefed 'hem well truely.
To' the copic if him talent toke
Of the Evangelift'is boke,
There might he fe by grete traifoun
Full many a falfe comparifoun.
ว
As moche as thorough his grete might,
Be it of hete be it of light;
The funne yfurmountith the mone,
That troublir is, and chaungith fone,
And the nutte kerneill dothe the fhell,
I fkorne nat that I you it tell,
Right fo withoutin any gile
Surmountith this noble' Evangile
The worde of any' evangelift,
And to ther title thei toke Chrift,
And many foche comparifoun,
Of whiche I make no mencioun,
Mightin men in that bokè finde,
Who fo coud of 'hem havin minde.
The' Uni'verfite, that was a flepe,
Gan for to braied, and takin kepe,
And at the noife the hedde up caft,
Ne nevir fithen flept it faft,
But up it ftert, and armis toke
Ayenſt this falfe horrible boke,
All redy battaile for to make,
And to the judge the boke thei take.
But thei that broughtin the boke there
Hent it anone awaie for fere;
Thei n'old fhewe it no more a dele,
But than it kept, and kepin wele,
Till foche a time that thei maie ſe
That thei ſo ſtrong ywoxin be
That no wight maie 'hem well withftonde,
For by that boke thei durft not ſtonde:
Awaie thei gonne it for to bere,
For thei ne durftin not anſwere
By expoficion ne gloſe
To that that clerkis woll oppofe
Ayenft the curfidneffe iwis
That in that boke ywrittin is.
Now wotte I nat ne can nat fe
What manir ende that there fhall be
Of all this whiche that thei yhide,
But yet algate thei fhall abide
Till that thei maie it bette defende;
This trowe I beft woll be ther ende.
This Antichrift abidin we.
For we ben all of his meine,
And what man that woll not be fo
Right fone he ſhall his life forgo : ·
We woll a peple' on him areife,
And through our gile doin him ceiſe,
And him on fherpè fperis rive,
Or othir waies bring him fro live,
But if that he woll folowe' iwis
That in our boke ywrittin is.
Thus moche woll our boke fignific,
That while Peter had maiſtrie
Maie nevir John fhewe well his might.
Now have I you declarid right
The mening of the barke and rinde
That makith the entencions blinde;
:
1
332
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
But now at erft I woll begin
To expoune you the pithe within,
And the feculers comprehende
That Chrift'is lawe wollin defende,
And fhould it kepen and maintenen
Ayenift them that all fuftenen,
And falfly to the peple techen
That John betokeneth 'hem to prechen
That there n'is lawe covenable
But thilke Gofpell pardurable
That fro the Holy Ghoft was fent
To tournin folke that ben mifwent.
The ftrength of John thei undirſtonde
The grace in whiche thei faie thei ſtonde,
That doeth the finfull folke convert,
And 'hem to Jefu Chrift revert :
Full many' an othre' horriblete
Mowin men in that bokè fe,
That ben commaundid doutilefs
Ayenft the lawe of Rome expreffe,
And all with Antichrift thei holden,
As men maie in the boke beholden.
And than commaundin thei to fleen
All tho that with Peter yben;
But thei fhall nevir have that might,
And God to forme, for ftrief to fight,
That thei ne fhall ynough yfinde
That Peter's lawe fhall have in minde,
And evir holde and fo maintene,
That at the laft it fhall be fene
That thei fhall all comin therto
For aught that thei can fpeke or do.
And thilke lawe ne fhall not ftonde
That thei by John have undirſtonde,
But maugre them it ſhall adoun,
And ben brought to confuſion.
But I woll ſtint of this matere,
For it is wondir long to here;
But had that ilke boke endured
Of bettre' eſtate I were enfured,
And frendis have I yet parde
That han me fet in grete degre.
Of all this worlde is emperour
Gile my fathir, the falſe trechour,
And empereffe my mothir is,
Maugre the Holie Ghofte iwis.
Our mightie linage and our rout
Reignith in every reigne about,
And well' is worthy we mini'fters be,
For all this worldè governe we,
And can the folke fo well deceve
That none our gilis can perceive,
And though thei doen thei dare not faie ;
The fothe dare no wight bewraie.
But he in Chrift'is wrathe him ledeth
That more than Chrift my brethrin dredeth;
He n'is no full gode champion
That dredeth foche fimilacion,
Nor that for pain woll refufin
Us to correcte and accufin
He woll not entremete by right,
Ne havin God in his eyen fight,
And therefore God fhall him punice :
But me ne rekith of no vice
Sithen men us loven communablie,
And holdin us for fo worthie,
That we maie folke repreve echone,
And we n'ill have repreſe of none :
Whom shouldin folke worshipin fo
But us that ftintin nevir mo
To patrin while that folke maie' us fe
Though it not fo behinde 'hem be?
And where is there more wode folic
Than to enhauncin chivalrie,
And lovin noble men and gaie,
That jolie clothis weren alwaie ?
If thei be foche folke as thei femen,
So clene as men ther clothis demen,
And that ther wordes folowe ther dede,
It is grete pite out of drede
For thei woll be none hypocritis;
Of 'hem me thinkith gretè fpite is :
I can not love 'hem on no fide:
But beggirs with thefe hodis wide,
With fleigh and palê facis lene,
And with graie clothis nat full clene,
But frettid full of tatar wagges,
And high fhewis knoppid with dagges,
That frouncin like a qualè pipe,
Or botis riveling as a gipe;
To foche folke, as I you devife,
Should princis and theſe lordis wife.
Take all ther landis and ther thinges,
Bothe warre and pece in govirninges,
To foche folke fhould a prince him yeve
That would his life in honour live.
And if thei be nat as the feme,
That ſervin thus the worlde to queme,
There would I dwèllin to deceive
The folke, for thei ſhall nat perceve.
But I ne fpeke in no foche wife
That men fhould humble' habite difpife;
So that no pride there undir be
No man fhould hate, as thinkith me,
The povir man in foche clothing;
But God ne prefith him nothing
That faieth he hath the worlde forfake,
And hath to worldly glory 'him take,
And woll of foche delicis ufe ;
Who maie that beggir well excufe?
That papelarde that him yeldith ſo,
And woll to worldly efe ygo,
And faicth that he the worlde hath loft,
And gredily it gripith eft,
He is the hounde, fhame is to fain,
That to his cafting goeth again.
But unto you dare I not lie,
But might I felin or efpic
That ye perceived it nothing
Ye fhouldin have a ſtarke lefing:
Right in your honde thus to beginne,
1 ne wolde it let for no-finne.
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSÉ.
33$
The god lough at the wondir tho,
And every wight gan laugh alſo,
And fayid, Lo, here a man right;
For to be truftie to' every wight!
Falfe Semblant, (quod Love) faie to me,
Sith I thus have avauncid the,
That in my court is thy dwelling,
And of Ribaudes fhalt be my king,
Wolt thou well holdin my forwardes?
Ye, Sir, quod he, from hens forwardes
Had ner your fathir here beforne
Servaunt fo true fithe be was borne.
That is ayenift all nature.
Sir, put you in that avinture,
For though ye borowes take of me
The fikerer fhall ye nevir be
For hoſtagis ne ſikirneſſe
Or chartris for to bere witneffe:
I take your felf to recorde here
That men ne maie in no manere
Terin the wolfe out of his hide
:
Till he be flain bothe backe and fide,
Though men him bete and all defile:
What! wene ye that I woll begile?
For I am clothid mekily,
There undre' is all my trechiry;
Mine herte chaungith nevir the mo
For none habite in which I go
Though I have chere of fimpleneffe,
I am not werie of fhreudneffe:
My lemman, ftrainid Abftenaunce,
Hath miftir of my purveiaunce,
She had full long ago be dedde
N'ere for my counfaile and my redde:
Let her alone, and you and me.
་
And Love anfwerid, I truft the
Without borowe, for I woll none.
And Falfe Semblant the thefe anone
Right in that ikè fame place,
That had of trefon all his face
Right blacke within and white without,
Thanking him gan on his knees lout,
Than was ther nought but every man
Now to affaute that failin can,
(Quod Love) and that full hardily:
Than armid thei hem cominly
Of foche armour as to 'hem fell.
Whan thei were armid fiers and fell,
Thei went 'hem forthe all in a rout
And fet the caftill all about;
Thei will not awaie for no drede
'Till it fo be that thei ben dede,
Or till thei have the caſtill take.
And four battellis gan thei make,
And partid 'hem in foure anone,
And toke there waie, and forthe thei gone
The foure gatis for to affaile,
Of whiche the kepirs woll not faile,
For thei ben neithir ficke ne dede,
But hardie folke, and ftrong in dede.
Now woll I faine the countenance
Of Falfe Semblant and Abftinaunce,
That ben to Wickid Tong ywent;
But firſt thei helde ther parliment
Whethir it to be doin were
To makin 'hem be knowin there
Or ellis walkin forthe difgiſed;
But at the laft: thei deviſed
That thei would gone in tapinage,
As it were in a pilgrimage,
Like gode and holie folke unfeined;
And anon Dame Abftinence ftreined
Toke on a robe of cameline
And gan her gratche as a bigine.
A large coverchief of threde
She wrappid all about her hede;
But the forgate not her pfaltere.
A paire of bedis eke fhe bere
Upon a lace all of white threde,
On whiche that the her bedis bede;
But fhe ne bought 'hem nevre' a dele,'
For thei were given her, I wote wele,
God wote of a full holie frere,
That faied he was her fathir dere,
To whom ſhe had oftiner went
Than any frere of his covent;
And he vifitid her alſo,
And many' a fermone faied her to;
He n'olde let for no man on live
That he ne would her oftin fhrive,
And with fo grete devocion
Thei madin her confeffion
That thei had oftin for the nones
Two heddis in one hode at ones.
Of faire ſhape I deviſed her the,
But pale of face fometime was fhe;
That falfè traitoureffe untrewe
Was like that falowe horfe of hewe
That in the' Apocalypis is fhewed,
'That fignifieth tho folke befhrewed
That ben all full of trecherie,
And pale thorough hypocriſie;
For on that horfe no colour is
But onely dedde and pale iwis:
Of foche a colour enlangoured
Was Abftinence iwis coloured;
Of her eftate fhe her repented
Right as her viſage repreſented.
She had a burdoune all of theft
That Gile had yeve her of his yeft,
And a ſkripp` of faint diftreffe,
That full was of clengèneffe,
And forthe fhe walkid fobirlie.
And Falfe Semblant faint, Je vous die,
And as it were for foche miſtere
Doin on the cope of a frere,
With chere fimple and full pitous
His loking was not difdeinous
Ne proude, but meke and ful pefible.
About his necke he bare a Bible,
And fquyirly forthe gan he gon,
And for to reft his limmes upon
He had of trefon a potent ;
As he were feble' his waie he went.
But in his fleve he gan to thring
A rafour harpe and well biting,
334
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.
!
That was yforgid in a forge
Whiche that men clepin Coupé Gorge.
So long forth ther-waie thei nomin
Till thei to Wickid Tong comin,
That at his gate ywas fitting,
And fawe folke in the waie paffing.
The pilgrimis fawe he faft by
That berin 'hem full mekily,
And humbly thei with him ymette;
Dame Abftinence firſt him ygrette,
And fithe him Falfe Semblant falved,
And he 'hem, but he not remeved,
For he ne drede him not a dele,
For whan he fawe ther facis wele
Alwaie in hertè him thought fo
He fhould knowin 'hem bothe two,
For well he knewe Dame Abftinaunce,
But he knewe not Conftreinaunce;
He knewe nat that she was conſtrained,
Ne of her thev'is life yfained,
But wende fhe come of will all fre,
But the come in othir degree,
And if of gode will ſhe began
That will ywas failid her than.
And Falfe Semblant had he faine alfe,
But he knewe nat that he was falfe;
Yet falſe was he, but his falſneſſe
Ne coud he nat efpie nor geffe,
For Semblant was fo flie ywrought
That falfeneffe he ne efpied nought;
But haddeft thou knowin him beforne
Thou woldift on a boke have fworne,
Whan thou him fawe in thilke araie,
That he that whilom was fo gaie,
And of the daunce Jolie Robin,
Was tho become a Jacobin:
But fothly what fo men him call
Frere prechouris ben gode men all;
Ther odir wickidly thei beren
Soche minstrellis if that thei weren.
So ben Auguftins and Cordileres,
And Carmis, and eke fackid freres,
And all the freris fhode and bare,
Though fome of 'hem ben grete and fquare,
Full holy men as I 'hem deme;
Everiche of hem would gode man feme;
But fbalt thou nevir of apparence
Sein conclude gode confequence
In any argument iwis,
If exiftens all failid is;
For men maie finde alwaie fopheme
The confequence to enveneme,
Who fe hath had the fubtilte
The double fentence for to fe.
Whan the pilgrimis comin were
To Wickid Tong that dwellid there,
Ther harnies nigh 'hem was algate;
By Wickid Tong adoune thei fate,
That badde 'hem nere him for to come,
And of tidingis tell him ſome,
And faied 'hem, What cafe makith you
To comin into this place now?
Sir, fayid Strainid Abftinaunce,
We for to dryin our penaunce
With hertis pitous and devout
Are commen as pilgrimes gon about;
Well nigh on fote alwaie we go;
Full doughtie ben our helis two,
And thus bothe we ben yfent
Throughout the worlde that is miſwent
To yeve enfample' and preche alfo ;
To fifhin finfull men we go,
For othir fishing ne fifhe we:
And, leve Sir, for that charite,
As we be wont, erbo'rowe we crave;
Your life to amenne Chrift it fave,
And ſo it ſhould you not difpleſe
We wouldin, if it were your efe,
A fhort fermon unto you fain.
And Wickid Tong anſwered again,
The houfe (quod he) foche as ye fe
Shall nat be warnid you for me:
Saie what you lift and I woll here.
Graunt mercie! tho fwetè Sir dere,
Quod aldirfirft Dame Abftinence,
And thus began fhe her fentence:
Sir, the first vertue for certaine,
The gretiſt and moſt fovèraine
That maie be founde in any man
For having or for wit he can
That is his tong for to refrain;
Therto ought every wight him pain,
For it is bettir ftill to be
Than for to ſpekin harme parde,
And he that harkeneth it gladly
He is no gode man fikirly.
And, Sir, abovin all othir finne
In that art thou moft giltie inne;
Thou ſpake a jape not long a go,
And, Sir, that was right evill doe.
Of a yong man that here repaired,
And nevir yet this place apaired,
Thou faideft he awaitid nothing
But to diſcevc Faire Welcoming :
Ye faidin nothing fothe of that,
But, Sir, ye lie, I tell you plat:
He cometh no more ne goeth parde;
I trowe ye fhal him nevir fe;
Faire Welcoming in prifon is
That ofte hath plaied with you er this
The fairift gamis that he coude
Withoutin filth, or ftil or loude;
Now dare he not himſelfe folace;
Ye han alſo the man do chace,
That he dare neither come ne go:
What mevith you to hate him fo
But propirly your wickid thought,
That many a falfe lefing hath thought,
That mevith your foule eloquence,
That janglith evre' in audience,
And on the folke arifith blame,
And doeth 'hem diſhonour and ſhame
For thing that maie have no preving
But likelineffe and contriving?
For I dare faine that Refon demeth
It is not al feth thing that ſemeth ;
F
1
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THE
THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE
And it is finne for to controve
Any thing that is to reprove;
This wote ye wele, and Sir, therefore
Ye arne to blame mochil the more;
And nathèleffe he reckith lite
He yeveth not now thereof a mite,
For if he thoughtin harme, parfaie
He would ycome and gone all daie;
He ne coude not himfelf abftene;
Now cometh he not, and that is fene,
For he ne taketh of it no cure,
But if it be through avinture,
And laffe than othir folke algate,
And though here watchift at the gate
With Ipere in thine areft alwaie,
There mufe mufarde all the longe daie;
Thou wakift night and daie for thought;
Iwis thy traveile is for nought,
And Jeloufie withoutin faile
Shall nevir quite the thy traveile;
And fkathe is that Faire Welcoming,
Withoutin any trefpaffing,
Shal wrongfully in prifon be
There wepith and languiſhith he;
And though thou nevir yet iwis
Agiltift man no more but this
Take not a grefe, it were worthy
To put the out of this baily,
And aftirwarde in prifon lie,
And fettrid the till that thou die ;
For thou fhalt for this finnè dwelle
Right in the devil's arfe of helle
But if that thou repentè the.
Maifaie thou lieft falfely (quod he.)
What, welcome with miſchauncè now!
Have I therefore herberid you
To faie me fhame and eke reprove,
With forie happe to your behove ?
And I to day your herbegere?
Go herbir you els where than here
That han a lier callid me.
Two tregetours arte thou and he,
That in mine hous do me this fhame,
And for my fothefawe ye me blame.
Is this the fermon that ye me make?
To all the divils I nie take,
Or ellis God thou me confounde,
But er men diddin this caftill founde
It paffith not ten daies or twelve
But it was tolde right to my felve,
And as thei faide right fo tolde I;
He kifte the Rofè privily;
Thus faide I now, and have faid yore
I n'ot where he did any more:
Why fhould men faie me fuche a thing
If that it had yben gabbing?
Right fo faide I, and woll faie yet,
I trowe I lyid not of it;
And with my bemis I woll blowc
To allè neighbours arowe
How he hath bothe comin and gone.
Tho fpake Falfe Semblant right anone,
All is nat gofpell out of doute
That men faine in the toune aboute :
Lay no defe ere to my ſpeking,
I fwere you, Sir, it is gabbing
Itrow ye wote well certainly
That no man lovith him tendirly
That faith him harme, if he wote it,
All be he ner fo pore of wit;
And fothe is alfo fikirly,
This know ye, Sir, as well as I,
That lovirs gladly wol vifiten
The placis there ther loavs habiten:
This man you loveth and eke honoureth,
This man to fervin you laboureth,
And clepith you his frende fo dere,
And this man makith you gode chere,
And every where that he you meteth
He you faleweth and he you greteth;
He prefith not fo ofte that ye
Oughte of his coming encombrid be;
There prefin othir folke on you
Ful oftir than he doith now;
And if his hert him ftrainid fo
Unto the Rofè for to go,
Ye fhould him fene ſo oftin nede
That ye fhould take him with the dede;
He coude his comming not forbere,
Though ye him thrillid with a ſpere;
It n'ere not than as it is now;
But truftith well, I fwere it you,
That it is clene out of his thought.
Sir, certis he ne thinkith it nought,
No more ne doth Faire Welcoming,
That fore abyith al this thing.
And if thei were of one affent,
Full fone ywere the Rofe ybent,
Tho the malgre your's would ybe.
And, Sir, of o thing herkeneth me;
Sithe ye this man that loveth you
Han faide fuch harme and fhamè now,
Wittith well if he geflid it
Ye maie well demin in your wit
He ne wolde nothing love you ſo,
Ne callin you his frende alſo,
But night and daie he wollin wake
The caftill to diſtroie and take,
Yf it were fothe as ye devife;
Or fome man in fome manir wife
Might it warnin him every dele,
Or by himſelfe percevin wele,
For fithe he might not come and gone,
As he was whilom wonte to done,
He might it fonè wite and fe,
But now all othirwife wote he.
}
Than have we, Sir, all uttirly
Defervid hell, and jolily
The deth of hellè doutileffe,
That thrallin folke fo giltileffe.
Falfe Semblant fo provith this thing
That he ne can none anſwering,
And feeth alwaie foche apparaunce
That nigh he fel in repentaunce,
And ſaid him; Sir, it maie well be;
Semblant, a gode man femin ye,
And Abftinence, ful wife ye feme;
Of o talent you bothe I deme :
336
•
THE ROMAUNT
OF THE ROSE.
What counfaile wol ye to me yeven?
Right here anon thou shalt be ſhriven,
And fay thy finne withoutin more;
Of this fhalt thou repent the fore,
For I am pricft, and have poſte
To fhrive folk of moft dignite
That ben as wide as world maie dure;
Of al this world I have the cure,
And that had nevir yet perfoun
Ne vicarie' of no manir toun.
And God it wot I have of the
A thouſande timis more pite
Than hath thy priest parochiall,
Though he thy frende be ſpeciall.
I have avantage in o wife,
That your prelates ben not ſo wiſe
Ne halfe fo lettrid as am I ;
I am licenfid boldily
In divinite for to rede,
And to confeffion out of drede
Yf that ye wol you now confeffe,
And leve your finnis more and leffe,
Without abode knele doune anon
And you fhal have abfolucion.
JA
1
1
1
1
}
?
3
TROILUS & CRESEIDE*.
IN FIVE BOKES.
BOKE I.
THE double forow of Troilus to telle,
That was the King Priamus fonne of Troy,
In loving how his aventuris felle
From wo to wele, and aftir out of joy,
My purpoſe is er that I parte froly,
Thou Thefiphone! thou helpe me t'endite
This woful verfe, that wepin as I write.
To the I clepe, thou goddeffe of tourment,
Thou cruil wight, forowing ay in paine!
Help me, that am the wofull inftrument
That helpith lovirs as I can complaine
For wel fit it, the fothè for to faine,
A woful wight to have a drery fere,
And to a forowfull tale a fory chere.
For I, that god of Lov'is fervauntes ferve,
Ne dare to love for mine unlikelinelle,
Prayin for fpede, al fhould I therfore fterve,
So ferre am I fro his helpe in derkeneffe;
But natheleſſe if this may done gladneffe
To any lovir, and his caufe aveile,
Have he the thanke and mine be the traveile.
In this boke is fhewed the fervent love of Troilus to
Crefelde, whom he enjoyed for a time, and her grete un-
truthe to him againe in giving her ſelf to Diomedes, who
in the end did fo calt her off that the came to grete mifery.
In whiche diſcourſe Chaucer liberally treteth of the divine
purveiance, Urry.
VOL, L
But ye lovirs that bathin in gladneſſe,
Yf any drope of pite in you be,
Remembrith you of paffid hevineffe
That ye have felte, and on the' adverfite
Of othir folke, and thinkith how that ye
Han felte that Love durft you to difplefe
Or ye han won him with to gret an efe.
And prayith for 'hem that ben in the cace
Of Troilus, as ye may aftir here
That Love 'hem bring in hevin to folace;
And eke for me prayith to God fo dere,
That I have might to fhew in fome manere
Suche paine and wo as Lov'is folke endure
In Troilus unfely avinture.
And biddith eke for them that ben difpeire
In love, that nevir will recovered be,
And eke for them that falfely ben apeired
Through wickid tongis, be it he or the,
And biddith God for his benignite
So graunt 'hem fone out of this world to pace
That ben difpairid out of Lov'is grace.
And biddith eke for them that ben at efe
That God 'hem graunt in love perfeveraunce,
And fende 'hem grace ther lovis for to plefe,
That it to love be worthip and pleſaunce;
For fo hope I my felfe beft to avauncè
To pray for them that Lov'is fervauntes be,
And write ther wo, and live in charite a
Y
sty
Boke F
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE
And for to have of them compaflioun,
As though I were ther ownè brothir dere,
Now herkenith with a gode entencioun,
For now wol I go ftreight to my matere,
In whiche ye may the double forowes here
Of Troilus in loving of Crefeide,
And how the forfoke him er that fhe deide.
It is wel wift how that the Grekis ſtrong
In armis with a thouſand fhippis went
To Troie wardis, and the cite long
Befiegedin, nigh ten yeres ere thei ſtent,
And how in divers wife and one entent,
The ravishing to wreke of Queine Heleine,
By Paris don, thei wroughtin all their peine.
Now fell it fo that in the toune there was
Dwelling a lord of gret authorité,
A gret divine, that clepid was Calcas,
That in that fcience fo' experte was that he
Knew wel that Troie thould deſtroyid be,
By anfwere of his god, that hight was thus
Dan Phebus, or Apollo Delphicus.
So whan this Calças knew by calculing,
And eke by the' anfwere of this god Apollo,
That Grekis fhouldin fuche a peple bring
Thorow the whiche that Troy must be fordo,
He caſte anone out of the toune to go,
For wel he wift by forte that Troie fholde
Diſtroyid be, ye, would who fo or n'olde;
Wherfore for to departin ſoftily
Toke purpoſe ful this wight, forknowing, wife,
And to the Grekis hoft ful privily
He ftale anone, and thei in curteis wife
Didin to him both worship and fervice,
In trufa that he hath conning 'hem to rede
In every peril which that was to drede.
Grete rumour rofe whan it was firſt efpied
In al the toune, and opinly was ſpoken
That Calcas traitour fled was, and alied
To them of Grece; and cafte was to be wroken
On him that falfly hath his faith to broken,
And faid that he and al his kinne atones
Were worthy to be brent both fell and bones,
Now had this Calcas lefte in this miſchaunce,
Unknowing of this falfe and wicked dede,
A doughtir whiche that was in grete penaunce,
And of her life ſhe was full fore in drede,
And ne wift nevir what beft was to rede
And as a widowe was the and alone,
And n'ift to whom he might ymake her mone.
Crefcide ywas this ladies name aright;
'
As to my dome in al Troy'is cite
Moft fairift lady, paffing every wight;
So angelike fhone her natife beaute
That like a thing immortal femid fhe,
And therwith was the ſo parfite a creture
As ſhe had be made in fcorning of Nature,
This lady, whiche that al day herde at ere
Her fathir's fhame, his falfhed, and traifoun,
Ful nigh out of her wit for forow' and fere,
In widowe's habit large of famite broun,
Before Hector on knees fhe fill adoun,
His mercy bad, her felfin excuſing
With pitous voice, and tendirly weping.
Now was this Hector pitous of nature,
And faw that ſhe was forowful begone,
And that he was fo faire a creture,
Of his godeneffe he gladid her anone,
And faidè, Let your fathir's traifon gone
Forth with miſchaunce, and ye your felf in joye
Dwellith with us whilis you lift in Troye,
And al the honour men may do you have,
As ferforth as though your fathir dwelt here,
Ye fhul have, and your body fhul men fave,
As fer as I may ought enquire and here.
And the him thankid with ful humble chere,
And oftir wolde and it had been his will,
And toke her leve, went home, and helde her fill.
And in her houſe ſhe' abode with fuch meine
As til her honour nede was for to holde;
And while fhe was dwelling in that cite
She kepte her eſtate, and of yong and olde
Ful wel beloved, and wel men of her tolde;
But whethir that the childrin had or none
I rede it nat, therfore I let it gone.
The thingis fellin as thei done of werre
Betwixin 'hem of Troie and Grekis ofte,
For fome day boughtin thei of Troie it derre,
And eft the Grekis foundin nothing foft
The folk of Troie : and thus fortune aloft
And undir efte gan 'hem to whelmin bothe,
Aftir her courſe, aie while that thei wer wrothe.
But how this toune came to diftruccion
Ne fallith not to purpofe me to tel;
For why? it were a long digreffion
Fro my matir, and you to long to dwel;
But the Troyan jeftis, all as thei fel
In Omer, or in Dares, or in Dite,
Who fo that can may rede 'hem as thei write.
But though the Grekis them of Troie in fhetten
And ther cite beſegid al aboute,
Ther olde ufagis n'oldin thei not letten,
As to honouren ther goddis ful devoute,
But aldirmoft in honour out of doute
Thei had a relicke hight Palladion,
That was ther truſt abovin everichon.
And fo befel, whan comin was the time
Of Apprilis, whan clothid is the mede
With newè grene, of lufty Ver the prime,
And with fwėtė ſmelling flouris white and rede
In fondrie wife fhewid, as I you rede,
The folke of Troie ther obfervances olde,
Palladion 'is feft, went for to holde.
Unto the temple in all ther beft wife
In general went every manir wight
To herkin of Palladion's fervice,
And namily many a lufty knight,
>
And many' a lady fresh and maidin bright
Ful well befeyn the moſt meynê and left
Both for the fefon and for the hie feft.
Among theſe othir folke was Crefeida,
In widdowe's habite blake; but natheles
Right as our first lettir is now an A,
In beaute firſt fo flode fhe makèles ;
Her godely loking gladdid all the pres;
N'as nevir fene thing to be praiſed ſo derre
Nor undir cloudè biake ſo bright a ſterre
{
Boke 1.
339
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
As was Crefeide, the faidin everichone
That her beheldin in her blake wede;
And yet fhe ftode ful lowe and ftil alone,
Behinde all othir folke, in litil brede,
And nie the dore, aye undir fham'is drede,
Simple of atire, aud debonaire of chere,
With full affurid loking and manere.
Dan Troilus, as he was wont to gide
His yonge knightis, ledde 'hem up and doune
In thilke large temple on every fide,
Beholding aie the ladies of the toune
Now here now there, for no devocioune
Had he to none to revin him his reft,
But gan to praiſe and lackin whom he left.
And in his walk ful fafte he gan to waiten
If knight or fquyir of his company
Gan for to fike, or let his eyin baiten
On any woman that he could eſpie,
Then he would fmile, and hold it a folie,
And fay him thus; O Lord! fhe flepith fofte.
For love of the, whan thou tnrnift ful ofte.
I have herde tel pardieux of your living,
Ye lovirs, and of your leude obfervaunce,
And whiche a labour folke have in winning
Of love, and in the keping whiche doutaunce,
And whan your pray is loft wo and penaunce.
O very folis! blinde and nice be ye,
Ther is not one can ware by othir be.
And with that worde he
caft up
gan
Afcaunce, lo ! is this not wifely iſpoken?
At whiche the god of Love gan lokin rowe
Right for difpite, and ſhope him to be wroken;
He kidde anon his bowe was not to broken,
For fodainly he hitte him at the full,
And yet as proude a pecocke can be pul.
his browe
O blinde worlde! o blinde entencioun !
How oftin fallith al th' effecte contraire
Of furquedrie and foule prefumpcion?
For caught is proude and caught is debonaire ;
This Troilus is clombin on the ftaire,
And litil wenith that he mote difcende;
But al day failith thing that folis wende.
As proude Bayard beginnith for to ſkippe
Out of the way (fo prickith him his corne)
Till he a laſhe have of the longè whippe,
Than thinkith he though I praunce all beforne
Firſt in the traife, full fatte and newe ifhorne,
Yet am I but an horſe, and hors 'is lawe
I must endure, and with my feris drawe:
So fared it by this fiers and proudè knight;
Though he a worthy king'is fonnè were,
And wenid that nothing had had ſuch might
Ayenft his wil that ſhould his hertè ftere,
Yet with a loke his hert ywoxe on fire,
That he that now was noft in pride above
Woxe fodainly moſte ſubject unto love.
Forthy enfample takith of this man
Ye wife, proude, and worthy folkis all,
To ſkornin Love, whiche that fo fone can
The fredome of your hertis to him thral;
For evir was and evir fhall befal
That Love is he that al thingis may binde,
For no man maie fordo the law of kinde
5
That this be fothe hath previd and doth yet,
For this (trowe I) ye knowin al and fome,
Men redin nat that folke han gretir wit
Than thei that han ben moft with love inome,
And ſtrengift folke ben therwith ovircome,
The worthyift and gretiſt of degre;
This was and is, and yet man fhal it ſe.
And truiliche it fitte well to be fo,
For aldirwifiſt han therwith ben plefed,
And thei that han ben aldirmofte in wo
With love han ben comfortid moſt and efed,
And oft it hath the cruill herte apeſed,
And worthy folke made worthyir of name,
And caufith moſt to dredin vice and ſhame.
Now fith it may nat godely be withſtonde,
And is a thing ſo vertuous in kinde,
Ne grudgith nought to Love for to ben bonde,
Sithe as him felvin lift he may you binde;
The yerde is bette that bowin wol and winde
Than that that breft; and therfore I
you rede
Folowith him that fo well can you lede.
But for to teilin forth in ſpeciall
As of this king 'is fonne of whiche I tolde,
And levin othir thing collaterall,
Of him thinke I my tale forth to holde,
Bothe of his joye and of his caris colde,
And all his werke as touching this matere,
For I it gan, I wol therto refere.
1
Within the temple wente him forth playing
This Troilus with every wight about,
On this lady and now on that loking,
Wherefo the were of toune or of without;
And upon caſe befil that through a rout
His eye ypercid, and ſo depe it went
Til on Crefeide it fmote, and there it ſtent,
And fodainly for wondir wext aſtoned,
And gan her bet beholde in thrifty wife;
Omercy,God! thought he, where haft thou wonned,
That arte fo faire and godely to deviſe?
Therwith his hert began to fprede and rife,
And fofte he fighid, left men might him here,
And caught ayen his formir playing chere.
She n'as nat with the lefte of her ſtature,
But al her limmis fo wel anſwering
Werin to womanhode, that creature
Was nevir laffè manniſhe in feming,
And eke the pure wife of her mening
She fhewid wel, that men might in her geffe
Honour, eftate, and womanly nobleffe.
Tho Troilus right wondir wel withall
Gan for to like her menin and her chere,
Whiche fomdele deignous was, for fhe let fal
Her loke a lite a fide, in fuche manere
Afcauncis, what may I nat ftondin here?
And aftir that her loking gan fhe light.
That never thought him ſene ſo gode a fight
And of her loke in him there gan to quicken
So grete defire and fache affectioun,
That in his hert 'is bottom gan to ſticken
Of her his fixe and depe impreffioua;
And though he erft had porid up and doun
Than was he glade his hornis in to ſhrinke;
Unnethis wilt he how to loke or winke,
Y ij
1
640
Boke 1.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Lo! he that lete him felvin fo conning,
And fcornid 'hem that lov's painis drien,
Was ful unware that Love had his dwelling
Within the fubtil ftremis of her eyen,
That fodainly him thought that he felte dien
Right with her loke the fpirite in his herte;
Bieffid be Love, that thus can folke converte!
She thus in blakc loking to Troilus
Ovir al thing he ftode for to beholde,
But his defire, ne wherefore he ftode thus,
He neithir chere made ne worde thereof tolde,
But from aferre, his manir for to holde,
On othir thing fomtime his loke he caft,
And efte on her, while that the fervice laſt.
And aftir this, not fully all awhaped,
Out of the temple efiliche he wente,
Repenting him that evir he had japed
Of Lov'is folke, left fully the difcente
Of ſcorne fil on him felf; but what he mente
Lefte it were wifte on any manir fide
His wa he gan diffimulin and hide.
Whan he was fro this temple thus departed
He freight anone unto his palais turneth;
Right with her loke thorough fhottin and darted,
Al frainith he in lufte that he fojourneth,
And all his chere and ſpeche alfo' he abnormeth.
And aie of Lov'is fervauntes every while,
Himſelfe to wrie, a: 'hem he gan to fmile,
And fayd, Ah, Lord! fo ye live all in luft,
Ye lovirs, for the conningiſt of you,
That fervith moft ententifeliche and beft,
Him tite as oftin harme therof as prowe;
Your hire is quite ayen, ye, God wote howe,
Not wel for wele, but fkorne for gode ferviſe;
In faithe your ordir is ruled in gode wife.
In no certaine ben your obfervaunces,
But it in a few fely pointis be,
Ne nothing afketh fo gret attendaunces
As doth your laie, and that knowin al ye;
But that is not the worst, as mote I the,
But tolde I which were the worſt point, I leve,
Al faide I fothe, ye woldin at me greve.
But take this; that ye lovirs ofte efchewe,
Or ellis done of gode etencion,
Ful ofte thy lady wol it miffeconſtrewe,
And deme it harme in her opinion,
And yet if fhe for othir enchefon
Be wroth, then fhalt thou have a groin anone:
Lorde! wel is him that may bene of you one!
But for al this, whan that he feeth his time,
He held his pees, non othir bote him gained,
For Love began his fethiré fo to lime,
That wel unneth unto his folke he fained
That othir befy nedis him diftrained:
So wo was him that what to done he n'ift,
But bad his folke to gone where as 'hem lift.
And whan that he in chambre was alone
He doune upon his bedd'is fete him fette,
And first he gan to fike and efte to grone,
And thought aie on her fo withoutin lette,
That as he fatte and woke his ſpirite mette
That heher faugh and temple', and all the wife
Right of her loke, and gan it newe aviſe,
Thus gan he make a mirrour of his minde,
In whiche he faugh all wholly her figure,
And that he wel coude in his hert yfinde
It was to him a right gode avinture
To love fuche one, and if he did his cure
To fervin her yet might he fal in grace,
Or els for one of her fervauntes pace:
Imagining that ne travaile nor grame
Ne might for fo godely an one be lorne,
As fhe ne him for his defire no fhame,
Al were it wifte, but in prife and upborne
Of all lovirs, wel more than beforne.
Thus argumentid he in his ginning,
Ful unavifid of his wo comming.
Thus toke he purpofe Lov'is crafte to fewe,
And thought that he would workin privily,
Firft for to hide all his defire in mewe,
From every wight iborne all uttirly,
But he might ought recovered ben therby,
Remembring him that Love to wide iblurve
Yelt butir frute, although fwete ſede-be forve.
And ore al this ful mokil more he thought
What for to ſpeke and what to holdin inne,
And what to artin her to love he fought,
And on a fonge anone right to beginne,
And gan loude on his forowe for to winne;
For with gode hope he gan fully affente
Crefeida for to love, and nought repente.
And of his fonge not onely his fentence,
(As write mine auctour, callid Lolius)
But plainely, fave our tong'is difference,
I dare wel fay in al that Troilus
Saied in his fonge, lo! every word right thus
As I fhal faine, and who fo lift it here
Lo! next this verſe he may it findin here.
The fonge of Troilus out of Petrarche.
If no love is, o God, what fele I fo!
And if love is, what thing and whiche is he?
If love be gode from whence comith my wo?
If it be wicke a wondir thinkith me,
Whan every turment and adverfite
That cometh of him may to me favery thinke,
For aye more thurſt I the more that I drinke.
And if that at mine ownê luft I brenne,
From whence comith my wailing and my pleinte
If harme agre me wherto plaine I thenne?
I n'ot nere why unwery that I feinte.
O quicke deth ! o fwetè harme fo queinte !
How may I fe in me foche quantite
But if that I confente that it ſo be?
?
And if that I confente I wrongfully
Complaine iwis. Thus poflid to and fro,
As flereleſs wight is in a bote, am I,
Amidde the fe atwixin windis two
That in contrarie ftondin evirmo.
Alas! what is this wondir maladie?
For hete of colde, for colde of hete, I die.
And to the god of Love thus fayid he
With pitous voice; O Lorde! now your'is is
My fpirite, whiche that oughtin your'is be;
You thonke I, Lord, that han me brought to this;
But whethir goddeffe or woman iwis
She be I n'ot whiche, that ye do me ferve,
But as her man I wol aic live and fterve,
Boke 1.
AND CRESEIDE.
TROILUS
J
}
Ye ſtundin in her eyin mightily,
As in a place unto your vertue digne,
Wherfore o Lord! if my fervice or I
May likin you, fo bethe me to ben,
For mine eſtate royal here I refigne
Into her honde, and with ful humble chere
Become her man, as to my lady dere..
Endeth the fang.
In him ne deigned to fparin blode royall
The fire of love, wherefro may God me bleffe!
Ne him forbare in no degre for all
His virtue or his excellent proweſſe,
But helde him as his thrall lowe in diftreffe,
And brende him fo in fondric wife aie newe,
That fixty times a day he lofte his hewe.
So muchill daie fro daie his ownè thought
For lufte to her gan quickin and encrefe,
That everiche othir charge he fette at nought:
Forthy ful oftin, his hote fire to cefe,
To fene her godely loke he gan to preſe,
For therby to ben efid wel he wende,
And aie the nere he was the more he brende;
For aie the nere the fire the hottir is,
This (trowe I) knowith al this company;
But were he ferre or nere I dare faie this,
By night or daie, for wifedome or folie,
His herte, whiche that is his breft'is eye,
Was aie on her, that fairir was to fene
Thán evir was Helein or Polyxene.
Eke of the daie there paflid nat an hourè
But to himſelf a thouſande times he faide,
God godely, to whom I ferve and laboure
As best I can, now would to God, Crefeide,
Ye wouldin on me rue er that I diede;
My dere herte, alas ! mine hele, and my hewe,
And life, is lofte but ye woll on me rewe.
All othir dredis werin from him fledde
Bothe of th' afficge and his falvacion,
Ne' in his defire non othir fancy bredde
But argumentes to this conclufion,
That the on him would han compaffion,
And he to ben her man while he maie dure;
Lo here his life, and from his deth his cure.
The harpe thouris fell of armis preve
That Hector or his othir brethrin didden
Ne made him onely therefore onis meve,
And yet was he, wher fo men went or ridden,
Found one the beſt, and lengift time abiden
There peril was, and eke did fuche travail
In armis that to thinke it was mervaile.
But for none hate he to the Grekis had,
Ne alfo for the refcous of the toun,
Ne made him thus in armis for to mad,
But onely lo! for this conclufion,
To likin her the bet for his renoun:
Fro daie to daic in armis fo he ſpedde
That all the Grekis as the deth him dredde.
And fro this forthe tho reft him love his flepe,
And made his mete his foe, and eke his fofow
Gau multiplie, that who fo tokê kepe
It fhewid in his hewe both even' and morow
Therfore a title he gan him to borowe
Of othir fickeneffe, left men of him wende
That the hottefire of cruill love him brende;
>
And faied he by a fevir fared amist
But how it was certain I cannot ſay,
If that his ladie underſtode nat this,
Or fainid her the n'ift, one of the twele;
But well rede I that by no manir weie
Ne femid it as if the on him rought,
Or of his paine, what fo evir he thought.
But than yfelt this Troilus foche wo
That he was wel nigh wode; for aie his drede
Was this, that the fome wight had lovid fo
That ner of him the would han takin hede,
For whiche him thought he felt his hertè blede;
Ne of his wo nc durft he nought begin
To tellin her for all this worlde to win.
But whan he had a ſpace left from his care,
Thus to himſelf full oft he gan to plain;
He faied, O fole! now art thou in the fnare
That whilom japediſt at lov'is pain;
Now art thou hent, now gnaw thin ownè chain
Thou wert aie woned eche lovir reprchende
Of thing fro which thou canst nat the defende.
What woll now every lovir faine of the
If this be wift? but er in thine abfence
Laughin in fcorne, and fain, Lo! there goth he;
That is the man of ſo grete ſapience,
That helde us lovirs lefte in reverence :
Now thanked be God he maie gon on the dauric
Of 'hem that Love lifte febly to avaunce:
But o thou woful Troilus! God would
(Sithe thou muſt lovin through thy deftine)
That thou befet wer of foche one that fhould
Know all thy wo, all lackid her pite!
But all fo colde in love towardis the
Thy ladie is as froft in wintir mone,
And thou fordon as fnowe in fire is fone.
ï
God would I were arivid in the port
Of deth, to which my forowe woll me lede!
Ah, Lorde! to me it were a grete comfort,
Than were I quite of languifhing in drede,
For by my hidde forowe iblowe in brede
I fhall bejapid ben a thouſande time
More than that fole of whoſe foly men rime.
But now helpe God, and yemy,fwete, for whom
I plaine; icought ye nevir wight fo faft:
O mercie, my dere herte! and helpe me from
The deth, for I while that my life maie laft
More than my life woll love you to my laſt;
And with fome frendly loke gladith me, fwete
Though nevir nothing more ye me behete,
Theſe wordis and full many' an othir mo
He fpake, and callid evir in his pleinte ·
Her name, to tellin unto her his wo,
Till nigh that he in falte teris was dreinte :
All was for nought; the herd nat his compleintes
And whan that he bethought on that folie
A thouſand folde his wo gan muliplie.
Bewailing in his chambir thus alone
A freude of his, that callid was Pandare,
Came onis in unware, and herd him
And faw his frend in foche diftreffe
Alas! (quod he) who caufith alls
O mercie God! what unhap mare this mene?
Han now thus fone the Grekis made you lene?
Y' ïj
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Book I
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
1
Or haft thou fome remorce of conſcience ?
And art now fall in fome devocioun,
And wailift for thy finne and thine offence,
And haft for ferde ycought contricioun ?
God fave 'hem that befiegid han our toun,
That fo can laie our jolite on preſſe,
And bring our luftie folke to holineſſe !
Thefe wordis faied he for the nonis all,
That with fuche thing he might him angry maken,
And with his angre doen his forowe fall
As for a time, and his corage awaken ;
But well wift he, as ferre as tongis fpeken,
There n'as a man of gretir hardineffe
Than he, ne more defirid worthineffe.
What cas (quod Troilus) or what avinture
Hath gidid the to fene me languiſhing,
That am refuſe of every creture?
But for the love of God, at my praying,
Go hence awaie, for certis my dying
Woll the difefe, and I mote nedis deie,
Therfore go waie; there n'is no more to ſeic.
But if thou wene I be thus ficke for drede,
It is nat fo, and therefore ſcorne me nought;
There is an othir thing I take of hede
Wel more than ought the Grekis han yet wrought,
Which caufe is of my deth for forow and thought,
But though that I now tell it the ne lefte
Be thou nat wrothe; I hide it for the beſte.
This Pandare, that nigh malt for wo and routh
Ful oftin faied, Alas! what maie this be?
Now frende, (quod he) if evir love or trouth
Hath ben er this betwixin the and me
Ne do thou nevir ſoche a cruilte
To hidin fro thy frende fo grete a care;
Woft thou not well that it am I Pandare?
I woll partake with the of all thy paine;
If it fo be I doe the no comfort,
As it is frend'is right, fo the for to faine,
To enterpartin wo as glad diſport
I have and fhall; for true or false report,
In wrong and right, iloved the all my live;
Hide not thy wo from me, but tell it blive.
Than gan this forowfull Troilus to fike,
And faied him thus; God leve it be my beſt
To tellin the, for fithe it maie the like
Yet woll I tell it the though my herte breft,
And well wote I thou maieft do me no reft;"
But left thou deme that I truſt nat to the:
Now herkin frende, for thus it ftant with me.
Love, ayenſt the whiche who fo defendith
Him felvin móſte him aldirleſt availeth,
With difpeire fo forely me offendith
That streight unto the deth mine hert yfailcth,
Therto defire fo brenningly me' affaileth
'That to ben flain it were a gretir joie
To me than king of Grece to be and Troie.
Suffifith this, my fully frende Pandare,
That I have faied, for now woteft thou my wo,
And for the love of God my coldè care
So hide it well, I tolde it ner to mo,
For harmis mightin folowen mo than two
If it were wift; but be thou in gladneſſe,
And let me terve unknowe of my digreffe.
How haft thou thus unkindely and long
Hid this fro me, thou fole? (quod Pandarus)
Paraventure thou maieft for foche one long
That mine avife anone maie helpin us.
This were a wondir thing, (quod Troilus)
Thou couldift ner in love thy felfin wiffe,
How devill maieft thou bringin me to bliffe?
Ye, Troilus, now herkin, (quod Pandare.)
Though I be nice, it happith oftin fo,
That one that of axis doeth full ill fare
By gode counfaile can kepe his frend therfro;
I have my ſelf yfeine a blinde man go
'There as he fell which that could lokin wide:
A fole maie eke a wife man oftin gide.
A whetstone is no kerving inftrument,
But yet it makith fharpe kerving tolis;
And if thou woft that I have aught miſwent
Efchue thou that, for foche thing to fchole is,
Thus oftin wife men ben warin by folis:
If thou fo do thy wit is well bewared;
By his contrary' is every thing declared.
For how might evir fwetneffe have be know
To him that nevir taftid bittirneffe?
No man ne wot what gladneſſe is I trowe
That nevir was in forowe or fome diftreffe;
Eke white by black, by fhame eke worthines;
Eche fet by othir more for othir femeth,
As men maie fene, and fo the wife it demeth.
Sithe thus of two contraries is o lore,
I that in love ſo oftin have affayed
Grevauncis ought to connin well the more
Counfailin the of that thou art difmaied,
And eke the ne ought not ben ill apaied,
Though I defirin with the for to bere
Thine hevie charge; it fhall the laffe the dere
I wote well that it farid thus by me
As to my brothir Paris an heirdeffe
Whiche that yclepid was Oenone
Wrote in a complaint of her hevineffe;
Ye faw the lettir that he wrote I geffe.
Naie, nevir yet iwis (quod Troilus.)
Now (quod Pandare) herkinith, it was thus,
Phubus, that first found art of medicine,
(Quod fhe) and coud in every wight'is care
Remedy' and rede by herbis he knew fine,
Yet to himſelf his conning was full barc,
For love had him fo boundin in a fnare,
All for the doughter of the King Admete,
That all his craft ne coud his forowe bete.
Right fo fare I; unhappily for me
I love one beft, and that me fmertith fore,
And yet paravinture I can rede the
And nat my felf; repreve thou me no more,
I have no caufe I wote well for to fore
As doeth an hauke that liftith for to plaie,
But to thine helpe yet fomwhat can I faie.
And of o thing right fikir maieft thou be,
That certain for to dyin in the pain
That I fhall nevir mo difcovir the,
Ne by my trouth I kepe nat to reſtrain
The fro thy love, although it were Helein,
That is thy brothir's wife, if I it wift,
Be what the be, and love her as the lift.
Beke I
343
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
2
Therefore as frendfulliche in me affure,
And tell me platte what is thine enchefon
And finall caufe of wo that ye endure,
For doubtith nothing mine entencion
N'as nat to you of reprehenfion
To fpeke as now, for no wight maie bireve
A man to love till that him lift to leve.
And therefore wetith wel that both ben vicis,
Miftruftin all or ellis all beleve;
But well I wote the mene of it no vice is,
As for to truſtin ſome wight is a preve
Of trouth, and forthy would I fain remeve
Thy wrong conceipt, and do the fome wight truſt
Thy wo to tell, and tell me if the luft.
The wife faieth, Wo is him that is alone,
For and he fall he hath none helpe to riſe;
And fithe thou haſt a felowe tell thy mone,
For this ne is nought certain the next wife
To winnin love, as techin us the wife,
To waile and wepe as Niobe the quene,
Whofe teris yet in marble ben iſene.
Let be thy weping and thy drerineſſe,
And let us leflin wo with othir fpeche,
So maie thy wofull time femin the leffe;
Delitith nought in wo thy wo to feche,
As doen theſe folis that ther forowes eche
With forowe whan thei han mifavinture,
And luſtin nought to fechin othir cure.
Men faine, To wretche is confolacion
To have an otbir felowe in bis paine;
That ought well to ben our opinion,
For we bothe thou and I of love do plain;
So full of forowe am I, fothe to faine,
That certainly as now no more hard grace
Maie fit on me; for why? there is no fpace.
Yf God wol thou art nought agaſt of me
Left I would of thy lady the begile;
Thou woft thy ſelf whom that I love parde,
As I beſt can, gon fithin longè while,
And fithe thou woft I do it for no wile,
And fithe I am he that thou truſtíth moſt,
Tel me fomwhat, fens al my wo thou wofte.
Yet Troilus for al this no worde faide,
But long he laie as ſtill as he ded were,
And aftir this with fiking he abraide,
And to Pandarus voice he lent his ere,
And up his eien caſt he; and than in fere
Was Pandarus lefte that in a frenfeye
He ſhould yfal, or ellis fonè deye;
And ſaid, Awake, full wonderliche and sharpe
What flombrift thou as in a lethargy?
Or art thou like an affe unto the harpe,
That herith foun, whan men the ftringis ply,
But in his mind of that no melodie
Maie finkin him to gladin, for that he
So dull is in his beftialite?
And with this Pandare of his wordis ftent,
But Troilus to him no thing anfwerde;
For why? to tellin was nought his entent
Ner to no man for whom that he fo ferde,
For it is faid, Men makin ofte a yerde
With which the makir is bimfelfe ibetin
In fondric manir, as thefe wife men treten,
And namèliche in his counfaile telling
That touchith love, that ought to ben fecre,
For of himselfe it woll inough out ſpring,
But if that it the bet governid be;
Eke fomtime it is crafte to feme to fle
Fro thing which in effecte men huntin faſte :
Al this gan Troilus in his herte caſte.
But natheleffe whan he had herde him crie
Awake, he gan to fikè wondir fore,
And fayd, My frende, although that fill I lie
I n'am not defe; now pece, and crie no more,
For I have herde thy wordis and thy lore,
But fuffir me my fortune to bewailen,
For thy proverbis may nought me availen ;
Nor othir cure ne canst thou none for me,
Eke I n'il not ben curid; I woll die :
What knowin I of the Quene Niobe?
Let be thine olde enfamplis, I the prey.
No, frende, (quod Pandarus) therfore I fey
Suche is delite of folis to bewepe
Ther wo, but to fekin bote thei ne kepe.
Now know I that there refon in the faileth;
But tellith me, if I wifte what the were
For whome that the al mifavinture aileth
Durfte thou trust that I tolde it in her ere
Thy wo, fith thou darſt not thy felfe for fere,
And her beſought on the to han fome routhe
Why nay, (quod he) by God and by my trouthe
What! not as befily (quod Pandarus)
As though mine owne life lay in this nede?
Why no, parde, Sir, (quod this Troilus.)
And why? For that thou ſhouldiſt nevir ſpede.
Woft thou that well? Ye, that is out of drede,
(Quod Troilus) for all that er ye conne
She wol to no fuche wretche as I be wonne.
(Quod Pandarus) Alas! what may this be
That thou difpairid art thus caufileſſe?
What! liveth nat thy lady? Benedicite!
How woft thou fo that thou art gracileffe?
Suche evil is not alwaie botèleffe;
Why put not thus impoflible thy cure,
Sithe thing to come is ofte in avinture?
I grauntin well that thou endurist wo
As fharpe as doth he Tityns in hell,
Whofe ftomake foulis tirin evir mo
That hightin Vulturis, as bokis tell;
But I may not endurin that thou dwell
In fo unſkilful an opinion
That of thy wo n'is no curacion;
But onis n'ilt thou for thy cowarde herte,
And for thine ire and folish wilfulneſſe,
For wantruft tellin of thy forowe' fmerte,
Ne to thine owne helpe do befineffe
As moche as fpeke a worde ye more or leffe,
But lieft as he that of life nothing retche :
What woman living coude love fuche a wretche ?
What may fhe demin othir of thy dethe,
Yf thou thus die, and he n'ot why it is,
But that for fere is yoldin up thy brethe
For Grekis han befiegid us iwis?
Lord! which a thanke fhalt thou have than of this
Thus wol the faine, and al the toune atones,
The wretch is ded, the divel have his bones,
Y ijij
-20
$44
Boke Ís
TROILUS AND
CRESEIDE.
Thou maifte alone her wepe, and crie, and knele,
And love a woman that fhe wote it nought,
And the wol quite it that thou shalt not ſele,
Unknow unkiſt, and loft that is unfought.
What! many a man hath love ful dere abought
Twenty wintir that his lady ne wiſte,
That never yet his ladie's mouthe he kifte.
What! fhould he therfore fallin in diſpaire,
Or be recreaunte for his ownè tene,
Or flain himſelf, all be his ladie faire?
Naie, naie; but er in one be freſh and grene,
To ferve and love ay his dere hert'is quene,
And thinke it is a guerdone her to ferve
A thouſande folde more than he can deferve.
And of that worde toke hede 'Troilus,
And thought anone what folie he was in,
And how that fothe him fayid Pandarus,
That for to flaen himſelf might he not win,
But bothe to doen unmanhode and a finne,
And of his deth his ladie nought to wite,
For of his wo God wot fhe knewe full lite.
And with that thought he gan ful fore to fike,
And faied, Alas! what is me beſt to doe?
To whom Pandare anfwerid, If the like
The beſt is that thou tell me all thy wo,
And have my trouth but if thou find it fo
I be thy bote or that it ben full long
To pecis doe me drawe and fithin hong.
Ye, fo faieft thou, (quod Troilus) alas!
But God wot it is naught, the rathir fo
Full harde it were to helpin in this caas,
For well finde I that Fortune is my fo,
Ne all the men that ridin con or go
Maie of her cruill whele the harme withſtond,
For as her lift the plaieth with fre and bond.
(Quod Pandarus) Than blamift thou Fortune
For thou art wroth ye now at erft I fe;
Woft thou not wel that Fortune is commune
To every manir wight in fome degre?
And yet thou haft this comfort, lo! parde,
That as her joyis motin ovirgone
So mote her forowes paffin everichone.
For if her whele ftint any thing to tourne
Than ceffith fhe Fortune anone to be;
Now fith her whele by no waie maie fojourn
What woft thou of her mutabilite?
Right as thy felf luft fhe woll done by the,
Or that she be nought ferre fro thine helping,
Paravinture thou haft caufe for to fing.
And therfore woft thou what I the befeche?
Let be thy wo and tourning to the grounde,
For who fo lifte have heling of his leche
To him bihovith firft unwrie his wounde;
To Cerberus in hell aie be I bound,
Were it eke for my fuftir all thy forowe,
By my gode will ſhe ſhould be thine to morowe.
Loke up I faie, and tell me what the is
Anone, that I maic gone about thy nede.
Know I her aught? for my love tell me this,
Than would I hope the rathir for to fpede.
Tho gan the veine of Troilus to blede,
For he was hit, and woxe all redde for fhame.
Aha! (quod Pandare) here beginnith game.
And with that worde he gan him for to ſhake,
And faied him thus; Thefe, thou shalt her name tell:
But tho gan fely Troilus for to quake,
As though men fhould han had him into hel,
And faied, Alas! of all my wo the well
Than is my fwetè foe callid Crefcide;
And well nigh with that word for fere he deide.
And whan that Pandare herd her name neven,
Lorde! he was glad, and fayid, Frend fo dere,
Now fare a right, for Jov'is name in heven
Love hath befet the well be of gode chere,
For of gode name, and wiſedom, and manere,
She hath inough, and eke of gentillneſſe :
If the be faire thou woft thy felf I gefle.
Ne nevir feie I a more bounteous
Of her eftate, ne gladdir, ne of ſpeche
A frendlier, ne none more gracious
For to doe well, ne laffe had nede to feche
What for to doen, and all this bet to eche
In honour to as ferre as fhe may ftretche :
A king'is herte femith by her's a wretche.
And forthy loke of gode comforte thou be,
For certainly the firftè pointe is this
Of noble corage, and wele ordaine the
A man to have pece with himfelfe iwis ;
So oughtift thou, for nought but gode it is
To lovin wel and in a worthy place;
The ought not to clepin it happe but grace,
And alſo thinke, and therwith gladdin the,
That fith thy lady vertuous is all,
So foloweth it that there is fome pite
Amongis all thefe othir in generall,
And for thei fe that thou in fpeciall
Requirift nought that is ayen her name,
For Vertue ftretchith not himfelfe to fhame.
But wel is me that evir I was borne
That thou befet art in fo gode a place,
For by my trouth in love I darſt have fworne
The fhould nevir have tidde fo faire a grace;
And woft you why? for thou were wont to chace
At Love in fcorne, and for difpite him call
Saint Idiote, lord of theſe folis all,
How oftin haft thou madin thy nice japes?
And faied that Lov'is fervauntes everichone
Of nicete ben very godd'is apes,
And fome of them would monche ther mete alone
Ligging a bedde, and make 'hem for to grone,
And fome thou faidift had a blaunche fevere,
And praidift God thei ſhould nevir kevere:
And fome of 'hem toke on 'hem for the cold
More than inough; fo faidift thou full oft,
And fome han fainid oftin time, and tolde
How that thei wakin whan thei flepin foft,
And thus thei would have fet 'hem felf aloft,
And natheleffe were undir at the lafte:
Thus faidift thou, and japidift full fafte.
Yet faidiſt thou that for the morè part
Thefe lovirs wouldin fpeke in generall,
And thoughtin that it was a fikir art
For failing for to' affayin ovir all:
Now maie I jape of the if that I ſhall;
But nathèleffe although that I ſhould die
Thou art none of tho I dare well feit.
}
3
Solo I.
34
TROILUS AND
CRESEIDE.
Now bete thy breft, and ſaie to god of Love,
Thy grace, o Lord! for now I me repent
If I miffpake, for now my felf I love ;
Thus faie with all thine hert in gode entent.
(Quod Troilus) Ah, Lorde! I me conſent,
And praie to the my japis thou foryeve,
And I no more will jape while that I live.
Thou faieft well, (quod Pandare) and now I hope
That thou the godd'is wrath haft al apefed;
And fithin thou haft weptin many' a drope,
And ſaid fuch thing wherwith thy god is plefed,
Now would God nevir but that thou were eſed,
And thinke weil fhe of whom reft all thy wo
Hereaftir maie thy comfort ben alſo.
For thilke ground that berith the wedis wicke
Bereth eke thefe wholfome herbis as full oft,
And nexte to the foule nettle rough and thicke
The rofe ywexith fote, and fimothe, and foft,
And next the valey is the hill aloft,
And next the derke night is the glad morowe,
And alfo joie is next the fine of ſorowe.
Now loke that well attempre be thy bridell,
And for the beſt aie fuffre to the tide,
Or ellis all our labour is on idell :
He baflith well that wifely can abide.
Be diligent and true, and aie well hide :
Be luftie, fre: perfever in ſerviſe,
And all is well if thou werke in this wife :
But he that partid is in every place
Is no where whole, as writin clerkis wife;
What wondir is if foche one have no grace?
Eke woft thou how it fareth of fome ferviſe?
As plant a tre or herbe in fondrie wife,
And on the morowe pull it up as blive,
No wonder is though it maie nevir thrive.
And fith the god of Love hath the beſtowed
In place digne unto thy worthineffe,
Stonde faft, for to a gode port haft thou rowed,
And of thy felf for any hevineffe
Hope alwaie well; for but if drerineffe
Or ovirhaft doe our bothe labour fhende
I hope of this to makin a gode ende.
And woft thou why? I am the laffe afered
Of this matter with my nece for to trete,
For this have I herd faie of wife and lered,
Was nevir man or woman yet beyete
That was unapt to fuffre lov'is hete
Celeſtiall, or ellis love of kinde;
Forthy fome grace I hope in her to finde.
And for to fpeke of her in fpeciall,
Her beaute to bethinkin and her youthe,
It fit her nought to ben celeſtiall
As yet, though that her bothe lift and kouthe;
And truly it fit her well right nouthe
A worthie knight to lovin and cherice,
And but fhe doe I holde it for a vice.
Wherfore I am and woll be aie redy
To painin me to do you this fervice,
For bothe of you to plefin; this hope I
Hereaftirwardis, for ye ben bothe wife,
And connin counfaile kepe in foche a wife
That no man fhall the wifir of it be;
And fo we maie ben gladdid alle thre
;
And by my trouth I have right now of the
A gode conccit in my wit as I geffe.
And what it is I woll now that thou fe
I think that fithin Love of his godeneffe
Hath the convertid out of wickidneffe
That thou shalt ben the beftè poft I leve
Of all his lale, and mofte his foin greve.
Enfample why, fe now theſe gretè clerkes,
That errin aldirmofte ayen all lawe,
And ben convertid from ther wickid werkes
Through grace of God, that left 'hem to him drawe
Than arne thei folk that han moft God in awe,
And frengift faithid ben I undirſtonde,
And con an errour aldirbeft withftonde.
Whan Troilus had herde Pandare affented
To ben his helpe in loving of Crefeide
He wext of wo, as who faith unturmented,
But hottir wext his love; and than he faide
With fobre chere, as though his herte yplaide,
Now blisfull Venus! helpe er that I fterve.
Of the, Pandare, I now fome thanke deferve.
But, derè frende, how fhal my wo be leffe
Till this be done? and, gode now, tell me this,
How wolt thou faine of me and my diſtreſſe,
Left ſhe be wroth? this drede I moſt iwis,
Or wol not herin al how that it is:
Al this drede I, and eke for the manere
Of the her eme ſhe n'il no fuche thing here.
(Quod Pandarus) Thou haft a ful grete care.
Left that the chorle may fal out of the mone.
Why, Lorde! I hate of the the nicè fare;
Why entremete of that thou haft to done?
For Godd'is love I bidè the a bone ;
So let me' alone, and it fhal be thy beft.
Why,frende, (quod he) than done right as the left:
But herke, Pandare, o worde, for I ne wolde
That thou in me wendift fo grete folie
That to my lady I defirin fholde
That touchith harme or any vilanie,
For dredileffe me were levir to die
Than the of me aught ellis underſtode
But that might yfownin into gode.
Tho lough Pandare, and anon anfwerde,
And i thy borow? fie! no wight doth but fo
I ne raaght not although fhe flode and herde
How that thou faieft : but farewel, I wol go:
Adieu; be glad : God fpede us bothe two!
Yeve me this labour and this bufineffe
And of my fpede be thine al the fwetnes.
Tho Troilus on knees gan doune to fall,
(And Pandare in his armis hente him faſt)
And faide, Nowe fie upon the Grekis all!
Yet parde God fhal helpin at the laſt,
And dredileffe if that my life may laft,
And God toforne, lo! fome of 'hem fhal fmerte;
And yet me athinketh that this avaunt m'afterte.
And now, Pandare, I can no morè fay,
But thou wife, thou woft thou maift: thou art al;
My life, my deth, hole in thine honde I day,
Helpe me (quod he.) Yes, by my trouth I ſhal,
God yelde the, frende, aud this in fpecial,
(Quod Troilus that thou me recommaunde
To her that may me to the deth commaunde,
346
Boke I
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
น
This Pandarus tho, defirous to ferve
His ful frendè, tho faide in this manere;
Farwel, and thinke I wol thy thanke deſerve,
Have here my trouth, and that thou fhalt well here:
And went his way thinking on this matere,
And how he beſt might her befeche of grace,
And find a lefure therto and a place.
For every wight that hath a houſe to found
He rennith nat the werke for to beginne
With rakil honde, but he wol bide a found,
And fende his hert'is line out fro within,
Thus aldirfirſt his purpofe for to winne,
As this Pandarus in his hert'is thought
Did caft his werke full wifely er he wrought.
But Troilus lay tho no lengir doun,
But up anon gat upon his ſtede baie,
And in the felde he playid the lioun;
Wo was that Greke that with him met that daie:
And in the toune his manir tho forthe aie
So godely was, and gat him fo in grace,
That eche him loved that lokid in his face.
For he becamin the moft frendly wight,
The gentilift, and eke the moſtè fre,
The truſtyiſt, and one the beſtè knight,
That in his time was or ellis might be :
Ded were his japis and his cruilte,
Ded his high porte and all his manir ftraunge,
And eche of 'hem gan for a vertue chaunge.
Now let us ſtint of Troilus a ſtounde,
That ferith like a man that hurt is fore,
And is fomdele of aking of his wounde
Yleffid wel, but helid no dele more,
And as an efy pacient the lore
Abite of him that goth about his cure,
And thus he drivith forth his avinture.
门
​T
4
1
TROILUS & CRESEIDE.
PROŒEMIUM LIBRI SECUNDI.
Our of thefe blackè wawis let us faile,
O winde, o winde! the wedir ginnith clere,
For in the fe the bote hath fuche travaile
Of my conning that unneth I it ftere :
This fe clepe I the tempeftous matere
Of depe diſpaire that Troilus was in;
But now of hope the kalendis begin.
O lady mine, that callid art Clio!
Eke for to winnin love in fondry ages
In fondry londis fondry ben ufages.
And forthy if it happe in any wife
That here be any lovir in this place
That herkeneth, as the ſtory wol deviſe,
How Troilus came to his ladie's grace,
And thinkith ſo n'olde I not love purchace,
Or wondrith on his ſpeche or his doyng,
Thou be my fpede fro this forthe, and my Mufe, I n'ot, but it is to me no wondring:
To rimè wel this Boke til I have do;
Me nedith here none othir art to uſe;
For why? to every lovir I me' excufc
That of no fentiment I this endite,
But out of Latin in my tonge it write.
Wherfore I n'il have neithir thanke ne blame
Of all this Worke, but praie you mekily
Diſblamith me if any worde be lame,
For as mine auctour fayid fo fay I;
Eke though I fpeke of love unfelingly
No wondir is, for it nothinge of newe is:
A blinde man can not judgin wel in beris.
I know eke that in forme of ſpeche is chaunge
Within a thouſande yere, and wordis tho
That haddin prife now wondir nice aud ftraunge
Us thinkith 'hem, and yet thei ſpake 'hem ſo,
And ſpedde as wel in love as men now do;
For every wight whiche that to Rome ywent
Halt nat o pathe ne alway o manere;
Eke in fome londe were al the game yfhent
Yf that men farde in love as men don here,
As thus, in opin doyng or in chere,
In vifiting, in forme, or faid our ſawes;
For thus men faine, Eche countre bath bis lawese
Eke fcarcely ben there in this placè thre
That have in love faid like and don in al,
For to this purpoſe this maie likin the,
And the right nought, yet al is done or ſhal;
Eke fome men grave in tre, fome in ſtone wal,
As it betide: but fithe I have begonne,
Mine authour fhall I folow as I konne.
348
Robe 11.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE
LIBER SECUNDUS.
IN May, that mothir is of monethis glade,
That the frefhe flour.s all, blew, white, and rede,
Ben quicke ayen that wintır ded had made,
And full of baume is fleting every mede,
Whan that Phœbus doth his bright bennis fpred
Right in the white Bole, right fo it betidde,
As I fhal finge, on May is day the thridde,
That Pandarus, for all his wife fpeche,
Felte eke his parre of Lov'is fhottis kene,
That coude he ner fo well of loving preche
It made his hewe al daie ful oftin grene;
So fhope it that him fill that day a tene
In love for whiche in wo to bedde he went,
And made er it were day full many' a went.
The fwalow Progne with a forowful lay,
Whan morow come, gan make her waimenting
Why the forfhapin was; and ever lay
Pandare abed halfe in a flombering,
Til fhe fo nigh him made her waimenting,
How Tereus gan forth her fuftir take,
That with the noiſe of her he gan awake,.
And to call, and dreffin him up to rife,
Remembring him his arande was to done
From Troilus, and eke his grete emprife,
And caſt, and knew in gode plite was the mone
To done voiage, and toke his way full fone
Unto his nec'is paleis there beſide :
Now Janus, god of Entre, thou him gide!
&
Whan he was come unto his nec'is place,
Where is my lady, to her folke (quod he?)
And thei him tolde, and he forthe in gan pace,
And founde two othir ladies fit and the
Within a pavid parlour, and thei thre
Herdin a maidin 'hem redin the gefte
Of the fiege of Thebis whilis 'hem lefte.
Madame, quod Pandare, God you fave and fe;
With al your boke and al the companie!
Eighe! uncle mine, welcome iwis, (quod fhe)
And up the rofe, and by the honde in hie
She toke him faft, and fayid, This night thrye,
To gode mote it yturue, of you I mette;
And with that word fhe doun on bench him fet.
Ye, nece, ye fhullin farin wel the bet,
If God wol, al this yere, (quod Pandarus)
But I am fory that I have you let
To herkin of your boke ye praifin thus !
For Godd'is love what faith it? tell it us:
Is it of love? fome gode ye may me lere.
Uncle, (quod fhe) your maiftreffe is nat here.
With that thei gonnin laugh, and tho ſhe ſeidė,
This romaunce is of Thebis that we rede,
And we have herd how that King Lauis deide
Through Oedipus his fonne, and all the dede;
And here we ftintin at theſe letters rede
How the bishop, as the boke can ytell,
Amphiorax, fill through the grounde to hell.
(Quod Pandarus) All this know I my felve,
And al th' affiege of Thebis and the care,
For herof ben there makid bokis twelve:
But let be this, and tell me how ye fare:
ус
Do' way your barbe, and fhew your face bare;
Do' way your boke: rife up and let us daunce,
And let us done to May fome obfervaunce.
Eighe! God forbid! (quod fhe) What! be ye
mad?
Is that a widowe's life, fo God you fave?
Parde you makin me right fore adrad;
Ye bene fo wilde it femith as ye rave:
It fat me wel bettir aie in a cave
To bide, and rede on holy faintis lives':
Let maidins gọn to daunce and yongè wives.
As evir thrive I (quod this Pandarus) ·
Yet coulde I tel a thing to don you play.
Now uncle dere (quod fhe) tellith it us
For Godd'is love is than th' affiege aweie?
I am of Grekis ferde fo that I deié.
Nay, nay, (quod he) as evir mote I thrive
It is a thing wel bettir than fuche five.
Ye, holy God! (quod fhe) what thing is that?
What! bettir 'than fuche five? Eighe! nay iwis
For al this world ne can I redin what
It ſhould yben: fome jape I trowe it is;
And but your felvin tell us what it is
My wit is for to' arede it al to lene:
As helpe me God I n'ot what that ye mene.
And I your borow; ne ner fhal (quod he)
This thing be tolde to you, as mote I thrive.
And why fo, uncle mine, why fo? (quod fhc.).
By God (quod he) that wol I tel as blive,
For proudir woman is there none on live,
1
Boks II.
349
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
And ye it wiſte, in al the toune of Troie :
I ne jape nat, ſo evir have I joie.
Tho gan fhe to wondrin more than before
A thouſande folde, and doune her eyin caft,
For nevir fithe the time that she was bore
To knowin thing defirid fhe fo faft,
And with a fike fhe faid him at the laſt,
Now, uncle mine, I n'il you not difpleſe,
Nor afkin that that do you difefe.
may
So aftir this with many wordis glade
And frendly talis, and with mery chere,
Of this and that thei fpeke, and gonnon wade
In many an unkouth, glad, and depe, matere,
As frendis done whan thei ben met ifere,
Til the gan afkin him how Hector ferde,
That was the toun'is wall and Grekis yerde.
Ful wel, I thanke it God, faide Pandarus,
Save in his arme he hath a litle wounde;
And cke his freſhè brothir Troilus,
To the wife worthy Hector the fecounde,
In whom that every vertue liſte habounde,
As alle trouthe and allè gentilneffe,
Wifedome, honour, fredome, and worthineffe.
In gode' faith, eme, (quod fhe) that likith me
Thei farin wel; God fave 'hem bothè two!
For trewliche I holde it a grete deinte
A king is fonne in armis wel to do,
And be of gode condicions therto,
For grete powir and moral vertue here
Is felde ifene in one perfone ifere.
In gode faith that is fothe, (quod Pandarus)
But by my trouth the king hath fonnis twey,
That is to mene Hector and Troilus,
That certainly though that I fhould ydey
Thei ben as voide of vicis, dare I fey,
As any men that livin undir fonne;
Ther might is wide iknow and what thei conne.
Of Hector nestith nething for to tel;
In all this world there n'is a bettir knight
Than he, that is of worthineffe the wel,
And he wel more of vertue hath than might,
This knowith many' a wife and worthy knight :
And the fame prife of Troilus I fey :
God helpe me fo I knowe not fuche twey.
Parde (quod fhe) of Hector that is fothe,
And of Troilus the fame thing trowe I,
For dredileffe men tellith that he dothe
In armis day by day ſo worthily,
And berith him here at home gently
To every wight, that al priſe hath he
Of them that me were levift praiſid be.
Ye fay right fothe iwis, (quod Pandarus)
For yeſterday who fo had with him ben
Mightin have wondrid upon Troilus,
For nevir yet fo thicke a fwarme of been
Ne flewe as Grekis from him gannin fleen,
And through the felde in every wight'is ere.
There was no crie but Troilus is there!
Now here now there he huntid 'hem ſo faft
There n'as but Grekis blode and Troilus;
Now him he hurt, and him al doun he caft;
Aye'where he went it was arrayid thus :
He was ther deth, and thelde and life for us,
That as that day ther durft him none withftonde
While that he helde his blody fwerde in honde.
Therto he is the frendilyift man
Of gret eftate that er I fawe my live,
And where him liſte the beſt felowſhip can
To fuche as him thinkith able to thrive.
And with that word tho Pandarus as blive
He toke his leve, and faid I wol gon hen.
Nay, blame have I, myne, uncle, (quod fhe) then,
What ellith you to be thus wery fone,
And namiliche of women wol ye fo?
Naie, fittith doune; parde I have to done
With you to fpeke of wiſdome er ye go;
And every wight that was about 'hem tho
That herde that gan ferre awaie to ftonde.
While thei two had al that 'hem lifte on honde.
Whan that her tale al brought was to an ende
Of her eftate and of her governaunce,
(Quod Pandarus) Now time is that I wende,
But yet I fay Arifith, let us daunce
And cafte your widowe's habite to mifchaunce;
What lifte you thus your felfe to disfigure,
Sithe you is tidde fo glad an avinture?
But wel bethought; for love of God (quod fhe
Shal I nat wetin what ye mene of this?
No, this thing afkith lefir tho quod he)
And eke it me would full muche greve iwis
If I it tolde and ye it toke amis:
Yet, were it bette my tonge to holdin ftil
Than fay a fothe that were ayenft your wil.
For, necè myne, by the goddeffe Minerve,
And Jupiter, that makith the thonde'ring,
And by the blifsful Venus that I ferve,
Ye ben the woman in this world living,
Withoutin paramours, to my weting,
That I beft love, and lothift am to greve,
And that ye wetin wel your felfe 1 leve,
Iwis, mine uncle, (quod fhe) graunt mercy!
Your frendſhip have I foundin evir yet;
I am to no man beholdin trewly
So muche as you, and have fo litil quit ;
And with the grace of God emforth my wit
As in my gilte I fhal you ner offende
And if I have er this I wol amende,
But for the love of God I you befeche,
As ye be he that I love moſt and triſte,
Let be to me your fremid manir ſpeche,
And iaie to me your nece what ſo you lift.
And with that worde her uncle' anon her kiſt,
And fayid, Gladly, my leve nece ſo dere!
Take it for gode that I fhal ſay you here.
With that the gan her eyin doune to cafte,
And Pandarus to coughe began a lite,
And fayid, Nece, alway, lo! to the laſte,
How fo it be that ſome 'men hem delite
With fubtil art ther talis for t' endite,
Yet for al that in ther entencion
Ther tale is all for fome conclufion.
And fithe the end is every tal'is ftrength,
And this matir is fo behovily,
What should I paint or drawin it on length
To you that ben my frende fo faithfully?
And with that worde he gan right inwardly
}
350
Boke II.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Beholdin her, and lokin in her face,
And faide, On fuche a mirrour muche gode grace!
Than thought he thus, if I my tale endite
Ought harde or make a proceffe any while,
She fhal no favour have therin but lite,
And trowe I would her in my wil begile,
For tendir wittis wenin al be wile
Wher as thei con nat plainliche undirſtond;
Forthy her wit to founin wol I fonde;
And lokid on hir in a befy wife,
And fhe was ware that he behelde her fo:
Ah, Lorde! (quod fhe) ſo faſte ye me aviſe,
Sawe ye me ner er now? what, fay ye no?
Yes, yes, (quod he) and bet wol er I
gos
But by my trouth I thoughtin nowe if ye
Be fortunate, for now men fhall it fe.
For every wight fome godely avinture
Somtime is fhape, if he it can receive,
But if that he n'il take of it no cure
When that it cometh, but wilfully it weive,
Lo, neither cafe nor Fortune him deceive,
But right his ownè flouth and wretchidneffe;
And fuche a wight is for to blame I geffe.
Gode avinture, o bellè nece! have ye
Full lightly foundin, and ye conne it take;
And for the love of God and eke of me
Catche it anone, left avinture yflake:
What ſhould I lengir proceffe of it make?
Yeve me your hond, for in this world is none,
If that you lift, a wight fo well begon.
And fithe I ſpeke of gode entencioun,
As I to you have tolde wel here beforne,
And love as wel your honour and renoun
As any creture in the worlde iborne,
By al the othis that I have you fworne
And ye be wrothe therfore, or wene I lie,
Ne fhal I never fene you efte with eie.
Beth nat agaſte, ne quakith nat; wherto?
Ne chaungith nat for ferè fo your hewe,
For hardily the worst of this is do;
And though my tale as now be to you newe,
Yet truft alwaie ye fhal me findin trewe;
And were it thing that me thought unfitting
To you ne would I no fuch talis bring.
Nowe, my gode eme, for Godd'is love I
(Quod fhe) come of and tel me what it is,
For bothe I am agaſt what ye wol fay,
And eke me longith it to wit iwis,
For whethir it be wel or be amis
Say on; let me not in this fere ydwel.
So wol I done: now herkenith I fhal tel.
pray
Now necê mine, the king'is owne dere fonne,
The gode, the wife, the worthy, freſh and fre,
Whiche alway for to done wel is his wonne,
The noble Troilus, fo lovith the
That but ye helpe it wol his bane ybc.
Lo! here is al: what fhouldin I more fey?
Doth what you lift to make him live or dey.
But if ye let him dye I wol ftervin,
Have here my trouthe, nece, I n'il not lien,
Al ſhould I with this knife my throte kervin:
With that the teris burst out of his eyen,
And faide, If that ye done us both to dien
Thus giltileffe, than have ye fifhid faire ;
What mendeth it you though that we both apaire ?
Alas! he whiche that is my lorde fo dere
That trewe man, that noble gentle knight,
That naught defirith but your frendly chere,
I fe him dyin, there he goth upright,
And haſtith him with al his fullè might
For to ben flaine, if his fortune affente:
Alas that God you fuche a beaute fente!
If it be fo that ye fo cruil be
That of his deth you liftith nought to retch,
That is ſo trewe and worthy as we ſe,
No more than of a japir or a wretch,
If ye be fuche, your beaute may nat ftretch
To make amendes of fo cruill a dede:
Avisement is gode before the nede.
Wo worthe the faire gemme that is vertuleffe!
Wo worthe that herbe alfo that dothe no bote!
Wo worth the beaute that is routhèleffe!
Wo worth that wight that trede eche undir fote!
And ye that ben of beaute croppe and rote,
If therwithal in you ne be no routhe,
Than is it harme ye livin, by my trouthe.
And alfo thinke wel that this is no gaude,
For me were levir thou, and I, and he,
Were hongid than that I fhould ben his baude,
As high as men might on us al iſe :
I am thine eme; the fhame were unto me
As wel as the if that I fhould affent
Through mine abet that he thine honour fhent.
Now undirftonde, for I you nought require
To binde you to him thorough no beheſt
Save one, that ye makin him bettir chere
Than ye han don er this and more fefte,
So that his life be favid at the lefte
This al and fome is plainly our entente:
God helpe me fo I nevir othir mente.
Lo! this requeſt is nought but ſkil iwis,
Ne doute of refon parde is there none :
I fet the worst that ye dredin; this is,
Men would wondir to fene him come and gone :
Ther ayenift anfwere I thus anone,
That every wight, but he be fole of kinde,
Wol deme it love of frendſhip in his minde.
What! who wol demin though he fe a man
To temple gon that he th' imagis eteth?
Thinke eke howe wel and wifely that he can
Governe himſelfe that he nothing foryeteth,
That wher he cometh he pris and thonk him
And eke therto he fhal come here fo felde [geteth;
What force were it though all the toun behelde?
Suche love of frendes reignith in al this toun:
And wrie you in that mantil evirmo;
And God fo wis be my falvacioun
As I have faide your beft is to do ſo.
But, gode nece, alway for to ftint his wo
So let your daungir fugrid ben alite.
That of his deth ye be not al to wite.
Crefeide, which that herde him in this wife,
Thought I fhal fele what he menith iwis.
Now eme, (quod fhe) what wouldin ye devife?
What is youre rede that I should don of this?
That is wel faid, quod he: certaine beſt is.
Bake II.
AND CRESEIDE.
TROILUS
351
That
ye
him love aien for his loving,
As love for love is fkilful guerdoning.
Thinke eke how elde waftith every hour
In eche of you a part of your beaute,
And therfore er that age doth the devour
Go love, for olde there woll no wight love the.
Let this proverbe a lore' unto you be,
To late izare, quod Beaute, whan it paſte,
sind elde ydauntith daungir at the laſte.
The king'is fole is wont to crie aloude,
Whan that he thinketh a woman bereth her hie,
So longè mote ye livin, and all proude,
'Til crow'is fete growin undir your eie,
And fende you than a mirrour in to prie
In which that ye may fe your face a morrowe:
Nece, I bid him within you no more forowe.
With this he ftinte, and caft adoune the hed,
And she began to breft and wepe anone,
And ſaide, Alas for wo! why n'ere I ded?
For of this world the faith is al
agone :
Alas! what fhuldin ftraunge unto me done
When he that for my beftè frende I wende
Redith me love who fhulde it me defende?
Alas! I would have truftid doutiles
That if that I through my diſavinture
Had lovid eithir him or Achilles,
Hector, or any othir manir creture,
Ye n'old have had no mercy ne meſurc
On me, but alwaie had me in repreve:
This falfe worlde, alas! who may it leve?
What is this al the joy and al the feſt?
Is this your rede? is this my bliſsful cas?
Is this the very mede of your beheſt?
Is this al paintiḍ proceffe faid (alas!)
Right for this fine? Q lady mine Pallas,
Thou in this dredeful cafe for me purvey,
For ſo aftonied am I that I dey.
With that the gan 'ful forowfully to fike:
Ah! may it be no bet? (Quod Pandarus)
By God I fhall no more come here this weke,
And God to-forne, that am miftruftid thus ;
I fe wel now ye fettin lite of us
Or of our deth, alas! I, woful wretche,
Might he yct live of me were nought to rețche.
O cruil god of Deth, difpitous Marteļ
O Furies thre of hel! on you I crie,
So let me ner out of this houfe departe
Yf that I ment or harme or vilanie;
But fithe I fe my lorde mote nedis die,
And I with him, here I me fhrive, and fey,
That wickidly ye done us bothe to dey.
But fithe it likith you that I be ded,
By Neptunus, that god is of the Se,
Fro this forthe fhal I nevir etin bred
Til that I mine own hert'is blode maie fe,
For certaine I wol die as fone as he :
And up he fterte, and on his way he raught,
Til fhe againe him by the lappe ycaught.
Crefeide, which that wel nigh ſtarfe for fere,
So as fhe was aye the moſt ferefull wight
That mightin be, and herde eke with her ere,
And fawe the forowful erneſt of the knight,
And in his prayir fawe eke non unright,
And for the harme eke that might fallin more,
She gan to rewe, and dredde her wondir fore:
And thus fhe thought; unhappis fallin thicke
Al day for love, and in fuche manir caas
As men ben cruill in 'hem felfe and wicke;
And if this man fle here hemfelfe, alas!
In my prefence, it n'il be no folas:
What men would of it deme I can nat fay;
It nedith me full flighly for to play.
And with a forowful fighe the ſaide thrie,
Ah, Lorde! me is betidde a fory chaunce,
For mine eſtate lieth in a jeopardie,
And eke mine em'is life lieth in balaunce;
But nathèleffe with Godd'is govirnaunce
I fhal ſo done mine honour ſhal I kepe,
And eke his life, and ſtintin for to wepe,
Of harmis tro the leffe is for to chefe ;
Yet had I levir makin him gode chere
In honour than mine em'is life to lefe;
Ye faine ye nothing ellis me requere.
No, wis, (quod he) mine owne nece fo dere!
Now wel, (quod fhe) and I wol don my paine
I fhal mine herte ayen my luft conſtraine.,
But that I n'il nat holdin him honde,
Ne love a man, that can I naught ne may,
Ayenft my wil, but ellis wol I foude,
Mine honour fave, pleſe him fro day to day;
Therto n'olde I not onis have faide nay
But that I dredde as in my fantaſie
But Ceffe cauſe and aie ceffith maladie.
;
But here I make a protestacion
That in this proceffe if ye depir go
That certainly for no falvacion
Of you, though that ye ftervin bothè two,
Though al the worlde on o day be my fo,
Ne fhal I ner on him have othir routhe.
I graunt it wel (quod Pandare) by my trouthe.
But maie I truſtin well to you (quod he)
That of this thing that ye han hight me here
Ye woll it holdin truely unto me?
Ye, doubtilefs, quod fhe, myne uncle dere!
Ne that I fhall have caufe in this matere
(Quod he) to plain or aftir you to prèche ?
Why no, parde; what nedith more ſpeche?
Tho fellin thei in othir talis glade,
Till at the laft, O gode eme! (quod fhe tho)
For love of God, whiche that us bothe ymade,
Tell me how first ye wiſtin of his wo;
Wot non of it but ye? He fayid No.
Can he well ſpeke of love, (quod fhe) I preie?
Tell me, for I the bet fhall me purveie.
Tho Pandarus a litil gan to fmile,
And fayid, By my trouth I fhall now tell:
This othir daie, nat gon full longè while,
Within the paleis gardin by a well
Gan he and I well halfe a daie to dwell,
Right for to fpekin of an ordinaunce
How we the Grekis mightin difavaunce:
Sone after that begone we for to lepe
And caftin with our dartis to and fro,
Till at the laſt he ſayid he would flepe,
And on the graffe adoune he laied him tho;
And I aftir gan romin to and fro,
352
Boke 11s
TROILUS
AND CRESEID.
Till that I herd, as I walkid alone,
How he began ful wofully to grone.
Tho gan I ftalke him full foftly behinde,
And fikirly, the fothè for to faine,
As I can clepe ayen now to my minde,
Right thus to Love he gan him for to plain :
He fayid, Lorde, have routh upon my pain;
All have I ben rebell in mine entent,
Now mea culpa) Lorde, I me repent.
O God! that at thy difpoficion
Ledift forth the fine by just purveiaunce
Of every wight, my lowe confefſion
Accept in gre, and fende me foche penaunce
As likith the; put from me difperaunce,
That maie my ghoft departe alwaie fro the:
Thou be my fhilde for thy benignite.
For certis, Lorde, fo fore hath fhe me wounded
That ſtode in blacke with loking of her eyen,
That to mine hert'is botome it is founded,
Through which I wot that I muit nedis dien;
This is the worst, I dare me nought bewrien,
And well the hotir ben the gledis rede
That men 'hem wrien with afhin pale and ded.
With that he ímote his hedde adoune anone,
And gan to muttre I nat what trucly,
And I with that gan ftill awaie to gone,
And lete thereof as nothing wift had I,
And come again anon and ftode him by,
And faied, Awake, ye flepin all to long;
It femith me nought that Love doth you wrong
That flepin fo that no man maie you wake;
Who feie evir er this fo dull a man?
Ye, frende, (quod he) doe ye your hedd'is ake
For love, and let me livin as I can :
But though that he for wo was pale and wan
Yet made he tho as frefhe a countenaunce
As though he fhould have led the newè daynce.
This paffid forth till now this othir daie
It fell that I come roming all alone
Into his chambre, and founde how that he laie
Upon his bedde; but man fo forè grone
Ne herd I nevir; and what was his mone
Ne wift I nought, for as I was comming
All fodainly he left his complaining,
Of whiche I toke fomewhat fufpection,
And nere I come, and founde him wepè fore;
And God fo wife be my falvacion
As I had nevir routhe of nothing morc,
For neithir with engine ne with no lore
Unnethis might I fro the deth him kepe,
That yet fele I mine hertè for him wepe.
And God wot nevir fith that I was borne
Was I fo bufie no man for to preche,
Ne nevir was to wight fo depe yfworne,'
Er he me told who might yben his leche
But not to you reherfin al his ſpeche,
Or all his wofull wordis for to fowne,
Ne bid me nought, but ye woll fe me fwone;
But for to fave his life, and ellis nought,
And to non harm of you, thus am I driven;
And for the love of God that us hath wrought
Soche chere him doth that he and I maie liven.
Now have I plat to you mine herte yſhriven,
And fith ye wote that mine entent is clene
Take hede thereof, for none evill 1 mene.
And right gode thrift I pray to God have ye
That han foche one icaught withoutin net;
And be ye wife, as ye be faire to fe;
Well in the ring than is the rubie fet:
There werin nevir two fo well imet
Whan ben his all whole as he is your :
ye
The mighty God us grant to fe that hour!
Naie, thereof ſpake I nat. A ha! (quod fhe)
As helpe me God ye fhendin every dele,
A, mercie, derè nece! anon (quod he)
What fo 1 fpake I ment it nought but wele,
By Mars the god that helmid is of ftele:
Now beth not wroth, my blode, my necè dere!
Now well (quod fhe) foryevin be it here.
With this he toke his leve, and home he went
Ye, Lorde, how he was glad and well bigon!
Crefeide arofe, no lengir fhe ne ftent,
But ftreight into her cloſet went anon,
And fet her doune as ftill as any ſtone,
And every worde gan up and doune to winde
That he had faied as it came her to minde.
And wore fomedele aftonied in her thought
Right for the newê cafe; but whan that ſhe
Was full avifid, tho found fhe right nought
Of perill why that the oughte aferde be,
For man maie love of poffibilite
A woman fo that his herte maie to breſt
And fhe nat love ayen but if her left.
But as fhe fat alone and thoughtè thus,
In field aroſe a ſkirmiſh all without,
And men cried in the ftrete, Se! Troilus
Hath right now put to flight the Grekis rout
With that gonne all her meine for to fhout
A go we fe; caft up the gatis wide,
For through this ftrete he mote to paleis ride,
For othir waie is fro the yatis none
Of Dardanus, there opin is the cheine:
With that come he and all his folke anone
And efie pace riding in routis tweine,
Right as his happie daie was (fothe to feine)
For whicke men faith maie not diftourbid be
That fhal betidin of neceffite.
This Troilus fat on his baiè ſtede
All armid fave his hedde full richily,
And woundid was his horfe, and gan to blede,
On whiche he rode a pace full foftily;
But foche a nightly fight, lo! truily
As was on him was nat withoutin faile
To loke on Mars, that god is of Battaile.
So like a man of armis and a knight
He was to fene, fulfilled of high proweffe,
For bothe he had a bodie and a might
To doen that thing as well as hardineffe,
And eké to fene him in his gerê dreſſe,
So frefhe, fo yong, fo weldy, femid he,
It was an hevín on him for to fe
→
His helme to hewin was in twentie places,
That by a tiffue hong his backe behinde,
His fhelde to daſhed with fwerdis and with maces,
In whiche men might many an arowe finde
That thirlid had both horne, and nerfe, and rinde;
Boke 11.
333
TROILUS
CRESEIDE.
AND
And aie the peple cried, Here cometh our joie,
And next his brothir holdir up of Troie !
For which he wext a little redde for fhame
When he fo herd the peple on him crien,
That to beholde it was a noble game
Now fobirliche ne caft adoune his eyen.
Creſeide anon gan all his chere eſpien,
And let it in her herte fo foftly finke
That to her felf fhe fayed, Ho! give me drinke.
For of her owne thought the woxe al redde,
Remembring her right thus, lo! this is he
Whiche that mine uncle fwereth he mote be dedde
But I on him have mercie and pite :
And with that ilke thought for pure fhame the
Gan in her hedde to pull, and that as faſt,
While he and all the peple forth by paſt:
And gan to caft and rollin up and doun
Within her thought his excellent proweffe,
And his eftate, and alfo his renoun,
His witte, his fhape, and eke his gentilneffe;
But mofte her favour was, for his diftreffe
Was all for her, and thought it were a routh
To flaen foche one, if that he mentè trouth.
Now might fome envious wight janglin thus,
This was a fodain love; how might it be
That the fo lightly lovid Troilus,
Right at the firft fight of him? Yea, parde.
Now whofo faied fo mote he nevir the,
For every thing a ginning hath it nede
Er all be wrought withoutin any drede.
For I faie nat that ſhe ſo fodenly
Yafe him her love, but that ſhe gan encline
To liken' him tho, and I have told you why;
And aftir that his manhode and his pine
Made love within her hertè for to mine,
For whiche by proceffe and by gode fervice
He wanne her love, and in no fodain wife.
And alſo blisful Venus wele arayed
Satte in her fevinth houfe of hevin tho
Difpofid wele, and with aſpectis payed,
To helpin fely Troylus of his wo;
And, fothe to fayne, fhe n'as nat all a foe
To Troylus in hys natyvyte,
God wote that wele the fonir fpedin he.
Now let us ftinte of Troilus a throwe,
That ridith forth, and let us tournè faſt
Unto Crefeide, that heng her hedde full lowe
There as fhe fatte alone, and gan to caſt
Wheron fhe would apoinct her at the laſt,
If it ſo were her eme ne would yceſſe
For Troilus upon her for to preſſe.
And, Lorde! fo fhe gan in her thought argue
In this matter of whiche I have you told,
And what to doen beft were, and what cfchue,
That platid fhe ful oft in many fold;
Now was her hertè warme, now was it cold;
And what he thought of fomwhat fhal I write
As mine authour liftith to me t'endite.
She thought wele firſt that Troilus perfon
She knewe by fight, and eke his gentilneffe,
And thus fhe faid, All were it nought to doen
To graunt him love, yet for his worthineffe
It wer honor with plaie and with gladneſſe
VOL. I.
In honette with fuch a lorde to dele
For mine eftate and alſo for his hele.
Eke well wote I my king's fonre is he,
And fith he hath to ſe me foche delte,
If I would uiterliche his fight yflie,
Par'aventure he might have me in difpite,
Thorough whiche I might frondin in worſe plite :
Now were I not wife me hate to purchace,
Withoutin nede, there I maie ftand in grace,
In every thing I wot there lieth meſure;
For though a man forbidith dronkineſſe,
He nought forbiddith that every creture
Be drinkileffe for alwaie, as I geffe;
Eke fithe I wot for me is his diſtreſſe
I ne ought not for that thing him difpife,
Sith it is ſo he menith in gede wife.
And eke I knowe of longè time agoné
His thewis gode, and that he n'is not nice;
No vauntour faine men certain he is none,
To wife is he to doen fo grete a vice,
Ne als I n'ill him nevir fo cherice
That he ſhall make a vaunt by juftè cauſe;
He fhall me nevir binde in foche a clauſe.
Now fet a cafe, the hardiſt is iwis,
Men mightin demin that he lovith me;
What dishonour were it unto me this?
Maie I him let of that? why naie, parde;
I knowe alfo, and alwaie here and fe,
Men lovin women al this toune about;
Be thei the wers? why naie, withoutin doubt
I thinke eke how he worthy is to have
Of all this noble toune the thriftyiſt
That woman is, if ſhe her honour fave,
For out and out he is the worthyiſt
Save only Hector, whiche that is the beſt g
And yet his life lieth all now in my cure:
But fothe is love, and eke mine avinture.
Ne me to love a wondir is it nought,
For well wote I my felf, fo God me ſpede,
All woll I that no man wiſt of this thought,
I am one of the fairiſt out of drede,
And godelyiſt, who ſo that takith hede,
And fo men faine, in all the toune of Troie
What wondir is though he of me have joie?
I am mine owne woman, well at efe,
I thanke it God, as aftir mine eftate,
Right yong, and ftond untied in luftie lefe,
Withoutin jeloufie, and foche debate;
Shall no huſbonde faine unto me Checke mate,
For either thei ben full of jeloufie,
Or maiſtirfull, or lovin novelrie
What fhall I doen? to what fine live I thus!
Shall I not love in cafe if that me left?
What? pardieux I am not religious
And though that I mine herte ſet at reft
Upon this knight, that is the worthieſt,
And kepe alwaic mine honor and my name,
By all right it maie doe to me no fhame.
But right as whan the funnè fhinith bright
In March, that chaungith oftintime his face,
And that a cloud is put with winde to flight
Whiche ovirfprat the funne as for a ſpace,
A cloudy thought gan through her foulè pace
Z
354
Boke II.
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
That ovirfpradde her brightè thoughtis all,
So that for fere a mofte fhe gan to fall.
That thought was this; Alas! fith I am fre
Should I now love and put in jeopardie
My fikirneſſe, and thrallin liberte ?
Alas! how durft I thinkin that folie?
Maie I not well in othir folke afpie
Ther dredfull joie, ther constreint and ther pain?
Ther lovith non that ne hath why to plain?
For love is yet the moſtè ſtormie life
Right of himſelf that evir was begonne,
For ever fome miftruft or ſome nice ftrife
There is in love, fome cloud ovir the funne;
Thereto we wretchid women nothing conne
Whan us is wo but wepe, and fit, and thinke :
Our wretche is this, our ownè wo to drinke.
Alſo theſe wickid tonguis ben fo preſt
To fpeke us harme, eke men ben fo untrue,
That right anon as ceffid is ther left
So ceffith love, and forth to love anewe:
But Harme adoe is doen, who fo it rue;
So blifsfull caufe as me, my life to lede
In alle joie and furetie out of drede.
The blissful God hath me fo well befet
In love iwis, that all that berith life
Imaginin ne could how to be bet;
For, Lorde, withoutin jelouſie or ſtrife
I love one whiche that mofte is ententife
To fervin well, unwerily' or unfained,
That evir was, and left with harme diftained,
As he that is the well of worthineffe,
Of trouth the ground, mirrour of godelihedde,
Of wit Apollo, ftone of fikirneffe,
Of virtue rote, of lufte findir and hedde,
Thorough whiche is all forowe fro me dedde:
Iwis I love him beſt, ſo doeth he me;
Now gode thrift have he where fo er he be;
Whom ſhould I thankin but you, god of Love,
Of all this bliffe in whiche to bathe I ginne?
And thankid be ye, Lorde, for that I love:
This is the rightê life that I am inne,
To flemin all manir of vice and finne;
For though theſe men for love 'hem firſt to rende, This doeth me ſo to vertue for to' entende
Full barp beginning brekith ofte at ende.
How oftin time hath it yknowin ben
The trefon that to women hath be doe!
To what fine is foche love I can not fene,
Or where becomith it whan it is go
There is no wight that wote I trowè ſo;
Wher it becometh lo no wight on it fporneth;
That erſt was nothing into nothing turneth.
How bufie (if I love) cke muſt I be
To plefin 'hem that jangle' of love and deme,
And coyen 'hem that thei faie no harm of me!
For though there be no caufe yet
'hem may
feme
Al be for harme that folke ther frendis queme;
And who maie ftoppin every wickid tong
Or foune of bellis while that thei ben rong?
And after that her thought gan for to clere,
And faied, He whiche that nothing undirtaketh
Nothing achevith, be bim loth or dere;
And with an othir thought her hert yquaketh;
Than flepith hope, and aftir drede awaketh ;
Now hote now cold: but thus betwixin twey
She rift her up and went her for to pley.
Adoune the ſtaire anon right tho ſhe went
Into her gardine, with her necis thre,
And up and doun thei madin many’ a went
Flexippe' and fhe, Tarbe' and Antigone,
To playin, that it joie was to ſe,
And othir of her women a grete rout
Her folowed in the gardine all about.
This yerde was large, and railed al the aleyes,
And ſhadowed wel with blos'omy bowis grene,
And benchid newe, and fondid all the weyes,
In whiche fhe walkith arme in arme betwene,
Till at the laft Antigone the fhene
Gan on a Trojan ſong to fingin clere,
That it an hevin was her voice to here.
She faied, O Love! to whom I have and fhal
Ben humble fubject, true in mine entent,
As I beft can to you, Lorde, yeve I all
For evirmore mine hert'is love to rent,
For nevir yet thy grace to no wight fent
That daie by daie I in my will amende.
And who that faieth that for to love is vice
Or thraldome, though he fele in it diſtreſſe,
He either is envious or right nice,
Or is unmightie for his fhreudèncfſe
To lovin; for foche manir folke I geffe
Diffamin Love as nothing of him knowe;
They fpeke of Love, but nevir bent his bowe.
What is the funnè worfe of his kinde right
Though that a man for febleffe of his eyen
Maie not endure on it to fe for bright?
Or love the worfe that wretchis on it crien?
No wele is worth that maie no forowe drien;
And forthy, Who that hath an bedle of verre
Fro caft of flonis ware bim in the werre.
But I with al mine herte and all my might,
As I have faied, woll love unto my laft
My owne dere herte, and all mine owne knight,
In whiche mine herte ygrowin is ſo faſt,
And his in me, that it ſhall evir laſt :
All did 1 dred at first to love begin
Now wote I well there is no pain therein.
And of her fong right with that worde ſhe ſtent,
And therewithall, Now necè (quod Crefeide)
Who made this fong now with fo gode entent ?
Antigone anfwerde anon, and faide,
Madame, iwis it was the godelyift maide,
Of grete eftate, in all the toune of Troie,
Who led her life in mofte honour and joie.
Forfothe fo it yfemith by her fong,
Quod tho Crefeide, and gan therwith to fike,
And fayid, Lorde! is there foche bliffe emong
Thefe lovirs, as thei can fo faire endite?
Ye, wiffe, quod freshe Antigone the white,
For all the folke that have or ben on live
Ne couldin well the bliffe of love difcrive.
But wenin ye that every wretche wote
The parfite bliffe of love? why naie, iwis;
Thei wenin all be love if one be hote;
Do' waie, do' waie! thei wote nothing of this a
Men motc afkin of fainctis if it is
5
Boke II.
355
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE:
bught faire in heven? and why? for thei can tell ;
And af in fendes if it be foule in hell?
Crefcide unto the purpofe nought anſwerde,
But faied, Iwis it woll be night as faſte;
But every worde whiche that the of her herde
She gan to printin in her hertè faſte;
And aie gan love her laffe for to agafte
Than' it did erft, and finkin in her herte,
That the wax fomwhat able to converte.
The day'is honour and the heven'is eye,
The night'is foe, all this clepe I the fonne,
Gan weftrin faft, and dounward for to wrie,
As he that had his day'is courfe ironne,
And white thingis woxin all dimme and donne
For lack of light, and terris for to apere,
'That she and all her folke in went ifere.
So whan it likid her to gon to reſte,
And voidid werin thei that voidin ought,
She fayid, that to flepin well her lefte;
Her women fone unto her bedde her brought:
Whan al was hufh't, than laie fhe ftil and thought
Of all this thing the manir and the wife;
Reherce it nedith not, for ye ben wiſe.
A nightingale upon a cedre grene
Undir the chambir wall there as fhe laie
Full loude yfong ayen the mone fhene,
Parʼaventure in his bird'is wife a laie
Of love, that made her herte frefhe and gaie;
That hetkenid fhe fo long in gode entent
'Till at the last the deddè flepe her hent.
And as fhe flept anon right tho her met
How that an egle, fethered white as bone;
Undir her bref his longè clawis fet,
And out her herte he rent, and that anon,
And did his herte into her breft to gon,
Of which the nought agrofe ne nothing fmert,
And forthe he flyith with herte left for hert.
Now let her flepe, and we our talis holde
Of Troilus, that is to paleis ridden
Fro the fcarmishe of the whiche I have toĺde,
And in his chambir fate and hath abidden
'Til two or thre of his meffangirs yeden
For Pandarus, and foughtin him full faft
'Til thei him found, and brought him at the laſt.
This Pandarus came leping in at ones,
And fayid thus, Who hath ben well ibete
To daie with fwerdis and with flongè ftones
But Troilus, that hath caught him an hete?
And gan to jape, and faied, Lorde how ye fwete!
But rife and let us foupe and go to refte:
And he anfwerde him, Doe we as the lefte.
With all the haft godèly as thei might
'Thei fped 'hem fro the foupir and to bedde,
And every wight ont at the dore him dight,
And wher' him lift upon his waie he ſped,
But Troilus thought that his hertè bledde
For wo til that he herdè fome tiding,
And ſayid, Frende, fhall I now wepe or fing?
(Quod Pandarus) Be ftill and let me flepe,
And doe' on thy hode, thine nedis fpedde ybe,
And chefe if thou wolt fing, or daunce, or lepe :
At fhort wordis, thou fhalt trowe all by me,
Fer, Sir, my nece woll doin well by the,
And love the beſt, by God and by my trothe,
But lacke of purfute marre it in thy flothe.
For thus ferforth I have thy werke begon
Fro daie to daie, till this daie by the morowe
Her love of frendſhip have I to the won,
And therto hath fhe laid her faith to borow;
Algate o fote is hameled of thy forowe :
What ſhould I lengir fermon of it holde?
As ye have herd before all he him tolde.
But right as flouris through the cold of night
Icloid ftoupin in ther ſtalkis lowe,
Redrefin 'hem ayen the funne bright,
And ſpredin in ther kindè courſe by rowe,
Right fo gan tho his eyin up to throwe
This Troilus, and faied, O Venus dere!
Thy might, thy grace, iheried be it here.
And to Pandare he held up both his hondes,
And ſayid, Lorde, all thine be that I have,
For I am whole, and broſtin ben my bondes:
A thoufande Troyis who fo that me yave
Eche aftir othir, God fo wis me fave,
Ne might not me fo gladin: lo! mine hert
It fpredith fo for joie it woll to fterte.
But, Lorde, how fhall I doen? how fhall I liven ?
Whan fhall I next my own dere herte yfe?
How fhall this longè time awaie be driven
Til that thou be ayen at her fro me?
Thou maieft anfwere, Abide, abide; but He
That bangith by the necke, the fothe to faine,
In grete difeſe abidith for the paine.
All efily now, or the love of Marte,
(Quod Pandarus) for every thing hath time,
So long abide till that the night departe,
For all fo fikir as thou lieft here by me,
And God toforne, I woll be there at prime,
And for thy werke fomwhat as I fhall faie,
Or on fome othir wight this chargè laie.
For parde God wot I have evir yet
Ben redy the to ferve, and to this night
Have I not fainid, but emfor the my wit
Doen all thy luft, and fhal with al my might;
Doe now as I fhall faine, and fare aright;
And if thou n'ilte, wite all thy felfe the care:
On me is nought along thine evill fare.
I wote well that thou wifir art than I
A thouſande folde; but if I were as thou,
God helpe me fo, as I would uttirly
Right of mine ownè honde write to her now
A lettir, in whiche I would telle her how
I farde amiffe, and her befeche of routh:
Now helpe thy felf, and leve it for no ſouth.
And I my felf fhall therwith to her gon,
And whan thou woſt that I am with her there
Worthe thou up on a courfir right anon,
Ye hardily, and that in thy beſt gere,
And ride forth by the place as naught ne were,
And thou fhalt finde us (if I maie) fitting
At fome windowe into the ftrete loking.
And if the lift than maieft thou us falue,
And apon me make thou thy countenaunce,
But by thy life beware, and faſt efchue
To tarien ought; God fhild us fro miſchaunce!
Ride forth thy waie and hold thy govirnaunce 3
Zij
X
AND CRESEIDE.
356
Boke II.
-TROILUS
And we fhall fpeke of the fomwhat I trow,
Whan thou art gon, to doe thine eris glow.
Touching thy lettir, thou art wife inough;
I wot thou n'ilte it deignèliche endite
As make it with theſe argumentis tough,
Ne fcriven-like, or craftily it write;
Beblotte it with thy teris eke alite,
And if thou write a godely worde all foft,
Though it be gode reherce it not to oft :
For though that the beft harpour upon live
Would on the beftè founid jolly harpe
That evir was with all his fingirs five
Touche aie o ftring, or aie o warble harpe,
Were his naillis poinctid nevir fo fharpe,
It ſhuldè makin every wight to dull
To here his gle and of his ftrokis full.
Ne jombre no difcordaunt thing ifere,
As thus, to ufin termis of phifike;
In lov'is termis holde of thy matere
The forme alwaie, and doe that it be like
For if a paintir would ypainte a pike
With affis fete, and heddid as an ape,
It cordith not, fo were it but a jape.
This counfaile likid well to Troilus,
But as a dredfull lovir he faied this;
Alas! my derè brothir Pandarus!
I am afhamid for to write iwis,
Left of mine ignorance I faied amis,
Or that the n'olde it for difpite receve;
Than wer I ded, there might it nothing weve.
To that Pandare anſwerid, If the left
Doe that I faie, and let me therewith gon,
For, by that Lorde that formid eft and weft,
I hope of it to bring anfwere anon
Right of her hond, and if that thou n'ilte non
Let be, and forie mote he ben his live
Ayenft thy luft that helpith the to thrive.
And faid, he would in trouth alway him holde,
And redde it ovre', and gan the lettre folde:
(Quod Troilus) Depardieux I affent;
Sithe that the lifte I woll arife and write,
And blissfull God praie I with gode entent.
The viage and lettir I fhall endite
So fpede it, and thou Minerva the White
Yeve thou me witte my lettir to devife;
And fet him doun, and wrote right in this wife.
Firſt he gan her his right ladie to call,
His hert'is life, his luft, his forowe's leche,
His bliffe, and eche thefe othir termis all
That in foche cafe ye lovirs allè feche,
And in full humble wife, as in his fpeche,
He gan him recommaunde unto her grace;
To tell all how it afkith mokill ſpace.
And aftir this full lowly he her praied
To be nought wrothe though he of his folie
So hardie was to her to write, and faied
That love it made, or ellis muſt he die,
And pitously gan mercie for to cric;
And aftir that he faied (and lied full loude)
Himſelf was little worthe, and laffe he coud,
And that he would have his conning excufed,
That litil was; and eke he dradde her fo,
And his unworthineffe aie he accuſed;
And aftir that than gan he tel his wo;
But that was cndèleffe withoutin ho;
And with his faltè teris gan he bathe
The ruby in his fignet, and it fette
Upon the wexe delivirliche and rathe,
Therwith a thouſande timis er he lette
He kifte the lettre whan he had it ſhette,
And faide, Lettre, a blisful deſtine
The fhapin is; my lady fhal the fe!
This Pandare toke the lettre, and betime
A morowe to his nec'is paleis fterte,
And faft he ſwore that it was paflid prime,
And gan to jape, and faide, Iwis mine herte
So frefhe it is (although it fore fmerte)
I maie nat flepe nevir a May'is morowe,
I have a joly wo, a lafty forowe,
Crefeide, whan that ſhe her uncle herde,
With dredeful herte, and defirous to here
The caufe of his comming, right thus anſwerde;
Now by your faith, mine uncle (quod fhe) dere!
What manir windis gidith you now here?
Tell us your joly wo and your penaunce;
How ferforth be ye put in lov'is daunce?
By God (quod he) I hop alwaie behinde,
And the to laugh as though her herte to brefte.
(Quod Pandarus) Loke alwaie that ye finde
Game in mine hode, but herkeneth if you left;
Ther is right now come to the toune a geſt,
A Greke efpie, and tellith newè thinges,
For whiche I come to tell you newe tidinges.
Into the gardin go we', and ye fhal here
Al privily of this a long fermoun.
With that thei wentin arine in arme ifere
Into the gardin fro the chambre doun;
And what that he fo ferre was that the foun
Of that which he fpake no man herin might
He ſaid her thus, and out the lettir plight :
Lo! he that is al wholly your'is fre
Him recommaundith lowly to your grace,
And fent to you this letter here by me;
Avifith you on it whan ye han ſpace,
And of fome godely anfwere you purchace,
Or helpe me God fo, plainely for to faine,
He maie not longè livin for his paine.
Ful dredefully tho gan fhe ftondin ftil,
And toke it not, but all her humble chere
Gan for to chaungin, and faid, Scripe nor bil,
For love of God, that touchith fuch matere,
Ne bring me none; and alſo, uncle dere!
To mine eftate have more regarde I pray
Than to his luft: what fhouldin I more fay?
And lokith now if this be refo'nable,
And lettith not for favour ne for flouthe;
To fainc a fothe, now is it convenable
To mine eftate, by God and by my trouthe,
To take it, or to havin of him routhe
In harming of my felfe or in repreve?
Beare it ayen for him that ye on leve.
This Pandarus gan on her for to ftare,
And fayid, Now is this the gretift wonder
That evir I fawe; let be this nice fare:
To dethe mote I fmittin be with thonder
Yf for the cite whiche that ftondith yonder
Bake II.
357
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
4
Would I a lettir to you bring or take
To harme of you: what lift you thus it make?
But thus ye farin well nigh all and fome,
That he that most defirith you to ferve
Of him ye retchin left where he become,
And whethir that he live or ellis fterve;
But for al that, that er I maie deſerve
Refuſe it not, (quod he) and hente her faſt,
And in her bofome doune the lettir thraft,
And faid her, Now caft it awaie anon
That folke maie fene and gaurin on us twey.
(Quod the) I can abide till thei be gon;
And gan to fmile, and faid him, Eme, I pray
Suche anfwere as you lift your felfe purvey,
For truly I wol no lettir write.
No, than wol I, (quod he) fo ye endite,
Therwith the lough, and fayid, Go we dine;
And he gan at himſelfe to japin faſtc,
And fayid, Nece, I have ſo gret a pine
For love, that everiche othir daie I fafte;
And gan his beftè japis forth to caſte,
And made her fo to laugh at his folie
That the for laughtir wenid for to die.
And whan that he was comen' into the hall
Now eme, (quod fhe) we wol go dine anon;
And gan fome of her women to her call,
And ftreight into her chambre gan fhe
But of her befineffis this was one
Amongis othir thingis, out of drede
Ful privily this lettir for to rede.
gone;
coude his
[gode,
Avifid word by word in every line,
And founde no lacke; fhe thought he
And put it up, and went her in to dine;
And Pandarus, that in a ſtudie ftode,
Er he was ware fhe toke him by the hode,
And fayid, Ye were caught er that ye wifle.
I vouchfafe, (quod he) do whatere you lifte.
Tho wiſhin thei, and fet 'hem doune and ete;
And aftir none ful flighly Pandarus`
Gan draw him to the windowe nie the ſtrete,
And fayid, Nece, who hath arayid thus
The yondir houſe that ſtante aforycne us?
Which houfe? (quod fhe) and gan for to beholde,
And knewe it wel, and whofe it was him tolde :
And fellin forthe in ſpeche of thingis fmale,
And fatin in the windowe bothè twey.
Whan Pandarus fawe time unto his tale,
And fawe well that her folke wer al awey,
Now, necê mine, tel on (quod he) 1 prey;
How likith you the lettre that ye wot?
Can he thereon? for by my trouth I n'ot.
Therwith al rofy hewid tho wore fhe,
And gan to hum, and fayid, So I trowe.
Aquite him wel for Godd'is love (quod he)
My felfe tomedis woll the lettre ſowe,
And helde his hondis up, and fell on knowe,
Nowe godè nece, be it nevir fo lite,
Teve me the labour it to fowe and plite.
Ye, for I can fo writin (quod fhe) tho,
And eke I n'ot what I fhould to him fay.
Naie, nece, quod Pandarus, faie you not ſo,
Yet at the left ythonkith him I pray
Of his gode will. O doth him not to dey!
Now for the love of me, my nece dere!
Refufith not at this time my praiere.
Depardieux! (quod fhe) God leve al be wele;
God helpe me ſo this is the firſt lettre
That er I wrote, ye al or any dele:
And into' a cloſet for to' avife her bettre
She went alone, and gan her herte unfettre
Out of Difdain'is priſon but a lite,
And fet her doun and gan a lettre write,
Of whiche to tel in fhorte is mine entent
Th' effee as ferre as I can undirftonde:
She thonkid him of al that he wel ment
Towardis her, but holdin him in hende
She n'olde not, ne makin her felvin bonde
In love, but as his fuftir him to pleſe
She would aie faine to done his hert an efe.
She fhette it, and to Pandare in gan gon
There as he fat and lokid into ſtrete,
And doun fhe fet her by him on a ſtone
Of jafpre', upon a quisfhen of golde ibete,
And faid, As wifely helpe me God the grete
I nevir did a thing with more paine
Than write this, to the which ye me conftraine,
And toke it him: he thonkid her, and ſeide,
God wot of thing ful oftin lothe begonne
Comith ende gode: and necè mine Crefeide,
That ye to him of harde now ben iwonne
Ought he be glad, by God and yondir fonne;
For why? men faine Impreffionis light
Full lightly ben aie redy to the flight.
But ye han plaied the tiraunt al to longe,
And harde was it your herte for to grave;
Now ftinte, that ye no longir on it honge,
Al woldin ye the forme of daungir fave,
But haſtith you to done him joye to have,
For truftith wel, To long idone bardneſſe
Caufith difpite ful oftin for diſtreſſe.
And right as thei declarid this matere
Lo! Troilus right at the ſtret'is ende
Came riding with his tenthè fomme ifcre
Al foftily, and thidirwarde gan bende
There as they fate, as was his waie to wende
To paleis warde, and Pandare him afpide,
And faid, Nece, ife who comith here ride!
O flie not in! he fethe us I fuppofe,
Left he may thinkin that ye him efchue.
Nay, nay, (quod fhe) and woxe as redde as rofe
With that he gan her humbly to falue
With dredful chere, and ofte his hewis mue,
And up his loke debonairly he caft,
And beckid on Pandare and forth by paft.
God wot if he fat on his horſe aright,
Or godely was befene that ilkè day;
God wot where he were like a manly knight;
What should I dretche, or tel of his aray?
Crefeide, which that al thefe thingis fey,
To tell in fhorte, her likid al iferc,
His perfon, his aray, his loke, his chere,
His godely manir and his gentilneffe,
So well, that never fithe that he was borne
Ne haddin fhe fuche routhe of his diftreffe;
And howe fo fhe hath hard ben here beforne
To God hope I the hath now caught a thorne,
Zij
858
Boke II
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
She fhal nat pul it out this nextè wikc;
God fende her mo fuch thornis on to pike!
Pandarus, whiche that ſtode her faſte by,
Felte iron hotte, and he began to ſmite,
And ſeidè, Nece, I praye you hertilje
Tel me that I fual afkin you alite;
L
A woman that were of his deth to wite,
Withouten' his gilt, but for her lacke of routh,
Were it wel done? (quod fhe) Naie, by my trouth.
God help me fo, (quod he) ye fay me fothe,
Ye felin wel your felfe that I nought lie.
Lo! yonde he rideth, (quod fhe) ye, fo he dothe.
Wel, quod Pandare, as I have tolde you thrie,
Let be your nicete and your folie,
And ſpeke with him in efing of his herte:
Let nicete nat do you bothe fmerte.
But theron was to hevin and to done,
Confidiring al thing it maie nat be,
And why? for fhame; and it were eke to fone
To grauntin him fo gret a liberte,
For plainly her entent (as fayid ſhe)
Was for to love him unwift if ſhe might,
And guerdon him with nothing but with fight.
But Pandarus thought it fhal nat be ſo;
If that I maie this nice opinion
Shal nat ben holdin fully yeris two;
What should I make of this a longe fermon?
He muft affent on that conclufion
As for the time, and whan that it was eve,
And al was wel, he roſe and toke his leve.
And on his way full faft homewarde he fpedde,
And right for joy he felte his hert to daunce,
And Troilus he founde alone abedde,
That laie as done thefe lovirs, in a traunce,
Betwixin hope and derke difefperaunce;
But Pandarus right at his in comming
He fong, as who faith, Lo! fomwhat I bring;
And faide, Who is in his bedde fo fone
Yburied thus? It am I, frende, (quod he.)
Who? Troilus! naie, helpe me fo the mone,
(Quod Pandarus.) Thou shalt up rife and fe
A charine that was yfent right now to the,
The whiche can helin the of thine axeffe,
If thou do forthwith all thy befineffe.
Ye, through the might of God (quod Troilus.)
And Pandarus gan him the lettir take,
And faide, Parde God hath yholpin us:
Have here a light, and loke on all theſe blake.
But oftin gan the hert to glad and quake
Of Troilus while he it gan to rede,
So as the wordis yave him hope or drede.
But, finally, he toke al for the befte
That the him wrote, for fomwhat he behelde
On which he thought he might his hertè reft,
Al covired fhe the wordis undir fhelde;
Thus to the more worthy part hẻ him helde,
That what for hope and Pandarus heheſte
His grete wo foryede he at the lefte.
But as we maie al' daie ourſelvin fe
६
So through this lettir which that fhe him fent
Encrefin gan defire, of whiche he brent.
Wherfore I fay alway that day and night
This Troilus gan to defirin more
Then he did crft through hope, and did his might
To prefin on, as by Pandarus lore,
And writin to her of his forowes fore
Fro day to day: he let it nought refreide
That by Fandare he fomwhat wrot or feide;
And did alfo his othir obfervaunces
That till a lovir longith in this caas,
And aftir that his dice turnid on chaunces
So was he eithir glad, or faide Alas!
And held aftir his geftis aie his pans,
And after fuche anſweris as he hadde
So werin his daies fory othir gladde.
But to Pandare alway was his recours,
And pitously gan aie to him to plaine,
And him befought of rede and fome focours;
And Pandarus, that fawe his wode paine,
Wext well nigh ded for routh, fothe for to faine,
And befely with al his hert gun cafte
Some of his wo to fleen, and that as fafte;
1
And faide, Lorde, and frende, and brothir dere!
God wot that thy difefe ydothe me wo,
But wolt thou ftintin al this woful chere,
And by my trouth er it be day is two,
And God toforne, yet fhal I fhape it fo
That thou shalt come into a certaine place
There as thou maieft thy felfe praien her of grace.
And certainly I n'ot if thou it wofte,
But thei that ben experte in love it fay,
It is one of theſe thingis fortherith moſt
A man to have a leifir for to praie,
And fikir place his wo for to bewraie,
For in gode hert it mote fome routh impreffe
To here and ſe the giltleffe in diftreffe.
Par'aventure thinkiſt thou though it be ſo
That Kinde would her ydone for to beginne
To have a manir routh upon my wo,
Saith Daungir Nay, thou fhalt me nevir win;
So rulith fhe her hert'is goſte within
That though she bendin yet fhe ftonte on rote;
What in effect is this unto my bote?
Thinke here ayen whan that the ſturdy oke,
On which men hackith oftin for the nones,
Recevid hath the happy falling ftroke,
The grete fweight makith it fall all at ones,
As done thefe grete rockis or theſe milneftones;
For ſwiftir courſe cometh thing that is of wight,
Whan it difcendith, than done thingis light.
But rede that bowith doune for every blaſt
Ful lightly ceffith winde it wol arife,
But fo n'il not an oke whan it is cat,
It nedith me nought longe the for to' vife;
Men fhall rejoyfin of a grete emprife
Atchevid wel, and ftout withoutin dout,
Al have men ben the lengir there about.
But, Troilus, now tel me if the left
Through more wode or cole kindlith the more fire, A thing whiche that I fhal afkin of the
Right fo encrefe of hope, of what it be,
Therwith ful oft encrcfith eke defire,
Or as an oke comith of a litil ſpire,
Whiche is thy brothir that thou loviſt beſt
As in thy very hert'is privite?
Iwis my brothir Deiphobus, (quod he.)
Boke II.
339
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
:
I'
1
Now, (quod Pandare) er hour'is twiſè twelve
He fhal the efe unwift of it himſelve.
Now let me' alone, and workin as I may,
(Quod he) and to Deiphobus went he tho,
Which had his lord and gretè frend ben aie;
Save Troilus no man he lovid fo:
'To tel in fhorte, withoutin wordis mo,
(Quod Pandarus) I pray you that ye be
Frende to a cauſe whiche that ytouchith me.
Yes, parde, (quod Deiphobus) wel thou woſt
Al that evir I may, and God tofore,
Al n'ere it but for the man I love moſt,
My brothir Troilus; but fay wherfore
It is, for fithe the day that I was bore
I n'as, ne nevir more to ben I thinke,
Aycnft a thing that mightin the forthinke.
Pandarus gan him thanke, and to him ſeide,
Lo! Sir, I have a lady in this toune
That is my nece, and callid is Crefeide,
To whiche fome men would done oppreffioun,
And wrongfully have her poffeffioun,
Wherfore I of your lordship you beſeche
To ben our frende withoutin morè ſpeche.
Deiphobus him anfwerde, O! is nat this
That thou ſpekift of to me thus ftraungely
Crefeide, my frende? Pandarus faid him Yes.
Than nedith (quod Deiphobus) hardily
No more of this, for truftith wel that I
Wol be her champion with ſpere and yerde;
I ne rought nat though all her foes it herde.
But telle me, thou that woft all this matere,
How might I beſt availin now? let fe.
(Quod Pandarus) If ye, my lorde fo dere,
Woldin as now do this honour to me
To prayin her to morowe, lo, that the
Came unto you her plaintis to deviſe
Her adverfaries would of it agriſe.
And if I more durft prayin you as now,
And chargin you to have ſo grete travaile,
To have ſome of your brethrin here with you,
That mightin to her caufe bettir availe;
Than wote I wel fhe mightin nevir faile
For to ben holpin, what at your inftaunce,
What with her othir frendis govirnaunce.
Deiphobus, whiche that comin was of kinde
To al honour and bounte to conſente,
Anfwerde, It fhal be done; and I can finde
Yet greater helpe to this in mine entente:
What woldeſt thou faine if for Helen I fent
To fpeke of this? I trowe it be the beft,
For the may ledin Paris as her left.
Of Hector, which that is my lord my brother,
It nedith nat to praien him frende to be,
For I have herde him, o time and eke other,
Spekin of Crefeide fuche honour that he
Maie faine no bet: fuch hap to him hath ſhe
It nedith nat his helpis more to crave;
He fhal be fuche right as we wol him have.
Speke thou thy felfe alfo to Troilus
On my behalfe, and praie him with us dine.
Sir, al this fhal be done, (quod Pandarus)
And toke his leve, and nevir gan to fine,
But to his nec'is houfc as ftreight as line
He came, and found her fro the mete arife,
And fet him doun, and ſpake right in this wife;
He faide, O very God fo have I ronne,
Lo! necê mine, fe ye nat how I fwetc?
I n'ot whethir ye the more thanke me conne ;
Be ye not ware how that falfe Poliphete
Is now about eftfonis for to plete,
And bringin on you advocacies newe?
I? no, (quod fhe) and chaungid al her hewe.
What is he more about me for to dretche,
And done me wrong? what ſhal I don? alas!
Yet of him felfin nothing would I retche,
N'ere it for Antenor and Æneas,
That ben his frendis in fuch manir caas;
But for the love of God, mine uncle dere!
No force of that, let him have al ifere,
Withoutin that I have inough for us.
Nay, (quod Pandare) it ſhall nothing be fo,
For I have ben right now at Deiphobus,
At Hector, and mine othir lordis mo,
And shortly makid eche of 'hem his fo,
That by my thrifte he ſhal it nevir winne
For aught he can, whan fo that he beginne.
And as thei caſtin what was beſt to done
Deiphobus, of his owne curtifie,
Came her to praye in his propir perfone
To holde him on the morowe companie
At dinir, whiche fhe ne wolde not denie,
But godely gan to his prayere obeye:
He thonkid her, and went upon his wey.
Whan this was don this Pandarus anone,
(To tellin in fhorte) forth he gan to wende
To Troilus as ftil as any ftone,
And al this thing he tolde him orde and ende,
And how that he Deiphobus gan to blende,
And faide him, Now is time of that ye conne
To bere the belle to morow', and all is wonne.
Now fpeke, now pray, now pitouſly complaine,
Let nat for nicè fhame, for drede or flouth;
Somtime a man mote tel his ownè paine;
Beleve it, and fhe wol have on the routh;
Thou shalt ben favid by thy faith and trouth:
But well wot I thou now art in a drede,
And what it is I lay I can arede:
Thou thinkift now how should I don al this
For by my cheris moftin folke efpie
That for her love is that I fare amis,
Yet had I levre' unwift for forow die:
Nowe thinke nat fo, for thou doft gret folie,
For I right now have foundin a manere
Of fleight for to coverin al thy chere.
Thou shalt gon ovirnight, and that as blive,
Unto Deiphobus houſe as the to plaie,
Thy malady awaie the bette to drive;
For why? thou femift fike, the fothe to faie;
Sone after that doune in thy bedde the laic,
And faie thou maift no lengir up endure,
And lie right there and bide thine avinture.
Say that the fevir is wont the to take
The fame time, and laftin till a morowe;
And let fe now how well thoù canft it make,
For parde fike is he that is in forowe :
Go now, farewel, and Venus here to borowe
Z iiij
366
Boke II.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
I hope and thou this purpoſe holdè ferme
Thy grace the fhal the fully there confermè.
(Quod Troilus) Iwis thou alle nedeleffe
Confailift me that fikeliche I me faine,
For I am fike in erneft douteleleffe,
So that wel nigh I flervin for the paine.
(Quod Pandarus) Thou shalt the better plaine,
And haft the leffe nede for to counterfete,
For Him men demin hote that men ſe favete.
Lo! holde the at thy triftè cloſe, and I
Shal wel the deere unto thy bowe ydrive:
Therwith he took his leve all foftily,
And Troilus to his paleis went blive,
So glad ne was he ner in all his live,
And to Pandarus rede gan al affent,
And to Deiphobus houfe at night he went.
What nedith it to tellin all the chere
That Deiphobus unto his brothir made,
Or his axis, or his fikeliche manere
How men gon him with clothis for to lade
When he was laid, and how men would him glade?
But all for nought; he helde forth aie the wiſe
That ye han herde Pandare ere this devife.
But certaine is er Troilus him leide,
Deiphobus had praied him ovirnight
To ben a frende and helping to Crefeide;
God wot that he that grauntid anon right
To ben her fullè frend with all his might:
But ſuch a nede was it to praien him thenne
As for to biddin a wode man to renne.
The morowe came, and nighin gan the time
Of mealtide, whan that the faire Quene Helen
Shope her to ben an hour aftir the prime
With Deiphobus, to whom ſhe n'olde faine,
But as his fuftir homely, fothe to faine,
She came to dinir in her plaine entent,
But God and Pandare wift al what this ment.
Came eke Crefeide all innocent of this,
Antigone her nece and Tarbe' alfo ;
But flie we now prolixite beft is,
For love of God, and let us faft ygo
Right to the' effecte withoutin talis mo,
Why al this folke affemblid in this place,
And let us of ther faluingis pace.
Gret honour did 'hem Deiphobus certaine,
And fedde him wel with all that might hem like,
But evirmo, alas! was his refraine,
My godè brothir, Troilus the fike,
Lithe yet; and therwithal he gan to fike,
And after that he painid him to glade
Hem as he might, and cherè gode he made.
Complainid eke Helen of his fikencffe
So faithfully, that pity was to here,
And every wight gan wexin for axes
A leche anon, and faide, In this manere
Men curin folke, this charine I wol the lerc;
But there fat one, al lift her nat to teche,
That thought, yet beft co aldin I ben his leche.
Aftir complaint him gonnin thei to preiſe,
As folke don yet whan foine wight hath begon
fo preife a man, and up with preife him reife
A thouſande folde yet higher than the fon;
He is, he can, that fewe othir lordes kon;
And Pandarus of that thei would afferme
He nought forgate ther praiſing to conferme.
Herde all this thing feire Crefeide wel inough,
And every worde gan for to notifie,
For whiche with fobre chere her hertè lough,
For who is that ne would her glorifie
To mowin fuche a kniglit done live or die?
But al paffe I, left ye to longe ydwell;
But for o fine is al that er I tell.
The time came fro dinir for to rife,
And as 'hem ought arifin everichone,
And gon a while of this and that devife;
But Pandarus brake al this fpeche anon,
And ſaid to Deiphobus, Wol ye gon,
If it your will be, as I erft you prayde,
To fpckin of the nedis of Crefeide?
Helen, which that by the hondê her helde,
Toke firft the tale, and faide, Go we blive;
And godely on Crefeidè fhe behelde,
And fayid, Jovis, let him nevir thrive
That doth you harm, and reve him fone of live,
And yeve me forowe but he fhal it rue
If that I may, and alle folke be true.
Tel thou thy nec'is cafe, (quod Deiphobus
To Pandarus) for thou canft beft it tell.
My Lordis and my, Ladies, it ftant thus;
What fhould I lengir (quod he) do you dwell?
He ronge 'hem out a proces like a bell
Upon her foe, that hight was Polyphete,
So heinous that men mightin on it ſpete.
Anfwerde of this eche worfe of 'hem than other,
And Polyphete thei gonnin thus to warien,
And honged be fuche one were he my brother,
And fo he fhal, for it ne maie nought varien :
What ſhould I lengir in this talè tarien ?
Plainliche al at onis thei her highten
To ben her frende in all that er thei mighten.
Spake than Helen, and faid to Pandarus,
Wot aught my lord my brothir of this matere,
I mene Hector, or wote it Troilus?
He faide her Ye; but wol ye me now here?
Me thinketh thus, fith that Troilus is here,
It were gode if that ye wouldin affent
She tolde him her felfe al this er fhe went;
For he wol have the more her grefe at herte,
Bicaufe lo, fhe a worthy lady is,
And by your wil I wol but in right ſterte,
And do you wete, and that anon iwis,
If that he flepe or wol aught here of this;
And in he lept, and faid him in his ere,
God have thy foule! for brought have I thy bere.
To fmilin of this gan tho Troilus;
And Pandarus withoutin rekining
Out went to Helen and Deiphobus,
And faid 'hem, So there be no tarying,
Ne more prefe, he wol well that ye bring
Crefeide my lady that is now here
And as he maie enduren he wol her here.
But wel ye wote the chambre is but lite,
And fewè folke may lightly make it warme ;
Now lokith ye, for I wol have no wite.
To bring in preſe that might I ydon him harme,
Or him difefiu for my bettir arme;
?
Bole II.
36B
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Wher' it be bet fhe abide till eftfonis
Now lokith ye, that knowin what to don is.
I ſay for me beft is, as I can knowe,
That no wight in ne wende but ye twey,
But it were I, for I can in a throwe
Reherſe her cafe unlike that ſhe can fey,
And aftir this fhe may onis him prey
To ben gode lorde in fhort, and take her leve;
This may not mokill of his eſe him reve.
And eke for ſhe is ftraunge he woll forbere
His efe, whiche that him darin nat for you;
Eke othir thing that touchith nat to her
He wol it tel, I wote it well right now,
That fecrete is, and for the town'is prow:
And thei, that knew nothing of his entente,
Without more to l'roilus in thei wente.
Heleine in all her godely foftly wife
Gan him falue and womanly to plaie,
And faied, Iwis ye mote algate ariſe ;
Now, faire brothir, be all whole I praie;
And her arme right over' his fhuldir laie,
And him with all her wit to recomfort;
As fhe beſt could the gan him to diſport.
So after this (quod fhe) We you beſeke,
My dere brothir! Deiphóbus and I,
For love of God, and ſo doeth Pandare eke,
To ben gode lorde and frende right hertily
Unto Crefeide, whiche that certainly
Receivid wrong, as wot well here Pandare,
That can her cafe well bet than I declare.
This Pandarus gan newe his tong affile,
And all her cafe reherce, and that anone :
Whan it was faied, fone aftir in a while
(Quod Troilus) As fone as I maie gone
I woll right fain with all my might ben one,
Have God my trouth, her caufe for to fufteine;
Now good thrift have ye (quod Helen the Quene.)
(Quod Pandarus) And it your will ybe
That The maie take her leve er that fhe go.
O, ellis God forbid it! (tho quod he)
If that the vouchfafin for to doc fo.
And with that worde (quod Troilus) Ye two,
Deiphobus and my fufter lefe and dere,
To you have I to fpeke of a matere,
To ben avifid by your rede the better;
And found (as hap was) at his bedd'is hedde
The copie of a tretife and a letter
That Hector had him fent to aſkin redde
If ſoche a man was worthy to ben dedde?
Wote I naught who, but in a grifly wife
He prayid 'hem anone on it avife.
Deiphobus gan this letter for to' unfolde
In erneft grete, fo did Helen the Quene,
And roming outwarde faſt it gonne beholde,
Dounward a ſtire, into an herber grene;
This like thing the reddin 'hem betwene,
And largily the mountenaunce of an houre
Thei gonne on it to redin and to poure.
Now let 'hem rede, and tourn: we anone
To Pandarus, that gan full fafte prie
That all was well, and out he gan to gone
Into the grete chambir, and that in hie,
And fayid, God fave all this companie!
Come, necè mine, my ladie Quene Helen,
Abidith you, and eke my lordis twene.
Rife, take with you your nece Antigone,
Or whom you lift, or no force hardily;
The laffe preffe the bettir: come forth with meg
And lokith that ye thonkin humbily
Them all thre, and whan ye maie godily
Your time ifee takith of them your leve,
Left we to long his reftis him bireve.
All innocent of Pandarus entent,
Quod tho Crefeide, Go we, uncle dere!
And arme in arme inward with him ſhe went,
Avifing well her wordis and her chere;
And Pandarus in erneftfull manere
Sayid, All folke, for Godd'is love I praie,
Stintith right here, and foftily you plaie.
Avifith you what folke ben here within,
And in what plite one is, God him amende!
And inward thus full foftily begin;
Nece, I conjure and highly you defende,
On his behalfe whiche that foule us all fende,
And in the vertue of corounis twaine,
Slea nat this man that hath for you this paine.
Fie on the devill! thinke whiche one he is,
And in what plite he lieth; come of anone;
Thinke all foche taried tide but loft it n'is,
That woll ye bothè faine whan ye ben one;
And fecondly, there yet devinith none
Upon you two, come of now if ye conne
While folke is blent, lo! all the time is wonne.
In titiring, and purfute, and delaies,
The folke devine at wegging of a ſtre,
And though ye would han aftir merie daies
Than dare ye nat; and why? for the and the
Spake foche a worde; thus lokid he and he:
Left time be lofte I dare nat with you dele,
Come of therfore, and bringith him to hele.
But now to you, ye lovirs that ben here,
Was Troilus nat in a cankedort,
That laie and might the whiſpring of 'hem here,
And thought, o Lorde! right now rennith my fort
Fully to die or have anone comfort,
And was the firſt time that he ſhould her praie
Of love; o mightie God! what ſhall he faie?
+
TROILUS & & CRESEIDE.
PROCEMIUM LIBRI TERTIL
O BLISFULL light! of whiche the bemis clere
Adornith alle the third hevin faire,
O fonn'is life! o Jov'is doughtir dere!
Plefaunce of love! o godely debonaire !
In gentle hertes aie redy to repaire,
→ very caufe of hele and of gladneffe,
Q
Iheried be thy might and thy godeneffe!
In heven and hell, in yerth and the falt fe,
Is felt thy might, if that I well difcerne,
As man, brid, bette, fiſhe, herbe, and grenè tre,
Thei fele in timis with vapour eterne :
God lovith, and to love he woll naught werne;
And in this worldè no liv'is cretare
Withoutin love is wroucht or maie endure.
Ye, Jovis, firft to thilke affectis glade,
Through whiche that thingis livin all and be,
Commendidin and amorous him made
On mortall thing, and as ye lift aie ye
Veve him in love efe or adverfite,
And in a thouſande formis doune him fent
For love in yerth, and whom you lift he hent.
Ye fiers Mars, apefin of his ire,
And as you lift ye makin hertes digne,
Algatis them that ye woll fet a fire
Thei dredin fhame, and vicis thei refigne;
Ye doen 'hem curteis be, frefhe, and benigne,
And hie or lowe aftir a wight entendeth
The joyis that he hath your might it ſendeth.
Ye holdin reigne and houſe in unite,
Ye fothfaft caufe of frendſhip ben alfo ;
Ye knowin all thilke covered qualite
Of thingis whiche that folke on wondrin ſo
Whan thei can nat conſtrue how it maie go
She loveth him, or why he lovith here,
As why this fifhe nat that comith to were,
Ye folke a lawe have fet in univerfe,
And this knowe I by them that lovirs be,
That who fo ftrivith with you hath the werfe :
Now ladie bright, for thy benignite,
At reverence of them that fervin the,
Whofe clerke I am, fo techith me divife
Some joie of that is felt in thy fervice:
Ye in my nakid hert'is fentiment
Inhilde, and doe me fhewe of thy fweteneſſe,
Caliope thy voice be now prefent,
For now is nede; feeft thou nat my diftreffe
How I mote tell anon right the gladneffe
Of Troilus to Venus herying?
To whiche gladneffe who nede hath God him bring!
1
Boke III.
363
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
INCIPIT LIBER TERTIU S.
LATE all this mene while this fad Troilus
Recording his leffon in this manere,
Mafeic, thought he, thus woll I faie and thus,
Thus woll I plain unto my ladie dere,
That worde is gode, and this fhall be my chere,
This n'ill I nat foryetin in no wife :
God leve him werkin as he can devife.
And, Lorde! fo that his herte began to quappe
Hering her come, and fhort gan for to fike;
And Pandaraus, that led her by the lappe,
Came nere, and gan in at the curtein pike,
And faied, God doe bote on all that are fike!
Se who is here you comin to vifite;
Lo! here is fhe that is your deth to wite.
Therwith it femid as he wept almoſfte.
A! a ! quod Troilus, ſo routhfully,
Where me be wo o mightie God! thou wofte:
Who is all there 1 fe nat truily.
Sir, (quod Crefeide) it is Pandare and I.
Ye, fwete herte, alas! I maie nat riſe
To knele, and do your honour in fome wife.
And dreffid him upward; and ſhe right tho
Gan both her hondis ſoft upon him leie.
O, for the love of God doe ye not fo
To me! (quod fhe.) Ey, what is this to ſei!
Sir, comen' am I to you for caufis tweie,
Firſt you to thonke, and of your lordſhipe eke
Continuaunce I wouldè you befeke.
This Troilus, that herd his ladie praie
Of lordſhip, him wox neithir quick ne dedde,
Ne might o worde for fhame unto it faie,
Although, men fhouldin fmitin of his hedde,
But, Lorde fo he woxe fodainliche alle redde
And, Sir, his leffon that he wendè conne
To prayin her is through his wit ironne.
Crefeide all this efpyid well inough,
For fhe was wife, and loved him ner the leffe,
All n'ere he' in all aparte, or made it tough,
Or was to bolde to fing a fol'is maſſe;
But whan his ſhame began fomwhat to paffe
His reafons, as I maie my rimis holde,
I woll you tell as techin bokis olde.
;
In chaungid voice, right for his very drede,
Whiche voice eke quoke, and therto his manere
Godelie abaſh't, and now his hewis rede
Now pale, unto Crefeide his ladie dere,
With loke doune caft and humble yoldin chere,
Lo the aldirfirſt worde that him afterte
Was twyis, Mercie, mercie, my dere herte!
And ftint a while, and whan he might out bring
The nextê word, was, God wote for I have
As faithfully as I have had konning
Ben your'is all, God fo my foulè fave,
And fhall, till that I wofull wight be grave,
And though I dare ne can unto you plain
Iwis I fuffir not the laffè pain.
5
Thus moche, as now, ah womanliche wife!
I maie out bring, and if this you difplete
That fhall I wreke upon mine ownè life
Right fone I trowe, and doe your herte an efe,
If with my deth your hert I maie apeſe,
But fens that ye han herd me fomwhat fey
Now retche I nevir how fone that I deie.
Therwith his manly forowe to beholde
It might have made an herte of ſtone to rew,
And Pandare wept as he to watir would,
And pokid evir his nece newe and newe,
And fayid, Wo begon ben hertis true;
For love of God make of this thing an ende,
Or flea us bothe at ones er that ye wende.
I, what? (quod fhe,) By God and by my trouth
I n'ot nevir what ye wilne that I feie.
Eie! what? (quod he) that ye have on him routh
For Godd'is love, and doeth him nat to deie.
Now than thus, (quod fhe) I wollin him preie
To tellin me the fine of his entente;
Yet wift I nevir well what that he mente.
What that I mene, o my fwete hertè dere!
(Quod Troilus) o godely freſhe and fre!
That with the ftremis of your eyin clere
Ye wouldin fomtime frendly on me ſe,
And than agrein that I maie ben he
Withoutin braunche of vice on any wife
In trouthe alwaie to do you my ſerviſe,
As to my ladie right, and chefe refort,
With all my witte and all my diligence,
And I to have right as you lift comfort,
Under your yerde egall to mine offence,
As deth, if that I brekin your defence,
And that ye digne me fo mochil honour
Me to commaundin aught in any hour,
And I to ben your very humble, true,
Secrete, and in my painis pacient,
And evir to defirin freſhly newe
To fervin, and ben aie like diligent,
And with gode herte all wholly your talent
Recevin, in gre, how fore that me ſmerte:
Lo, this mene I, o mine owne ſwetè herte !
}
64
Boke III
TROILUS AND
CRESEIDE.
(Quod Pandarus) Lo! here an hard requeſt,
And refo'nable a ladie for to werne;
Now necè mine, by Natall Jov'is feft,
Were I a god ye fhouldin fterve as yerne,
That herin well this man wol nothing yerne
But your honor, and fene him almofte fterve,
And ben fo lothe to fuffre' him you to ferve.
With that the gan her eyin on him caft
Full efily and full debonairly,
Avifing her, and hied her not to faſt
With ner a worde, but faied him foftily,
Mine honour fafe I woll well truily,
And in foche forme as ye can now devife,
Recevin him fully to my fervife;
Befeching him, for Godd'is love, that he
Would in honour of trouth and gentillneffe,
As I well mene, eke menie well to me.
And mine honour with wit and bufineffe
Aie kepe; and if I maie doen him gladneffe
From hennisforthe iwis I n'ill not faine:
Now bethe all whole, no lengir ye ne plain.
But natheleffe this warne 1 you, (quod fhe)
A king'is fonne although ye be iwis,
Yet ye shall no more have fovèrainte
Of me in love than right in that cafe is,
Ne n'ill I forbere if ye doen amis
To wrathin you, and while that ye me ferve
Cherishe you right aftir that ye deſerve.
And fhortily, dere herte, and all my knight!
Beth glad, and drawith you to luſtineffe,
And I fhall truely, with all my full might,
Your bittir tourin all to fwetineſſe,
If I be the that maie do you gladneffe
For every wo ye fhall recovir bliffe.
And him in armis toke, and gan him kiffe.
Fill Pandarus on knees, and up his eyen
To hevin threwe, and helde his hondis hie;
Immortall god! (quod he) that maieſt not dien
Cupide, of this thou maiſt the glorifie,
And Venus, thou maiſt makin melodie:
Withoutin honde me femith that in toune
For this miracle I here eche bell foune.
But ho! no more now of this ilke matere;
For why? this folke woll comin up anone
That have the lettir redde: lo! I'hem here;
But I conjure the Crefeidè anone,
And thou to Troilus, whan thou maiſt gone,
'That at mine houfe ye ben at my warning,
ус
For I full well fhall fhapin your comming;
And efith there your hertis right inough,
And let fe whiche of you fhall bere the bell
To fpeke of love, and right therwith he lough,
For there have ye a leifir for to tell.
(Quod Troilus) How long fhall I here dwell
Er this be doen? Quod he, Whan thou maicft rife
This thing fhall be right as you lift devife.
With that Helen and alfo Deiphobus
Tho comin upward, right at the ſtaire's ende,
And, Lorde! fo tho gan gronin Troilus,
His brothir and his fuftir for to blende.
(Quod Pandarus) It time is that we wende
Take, nece mine, your leve at them all thre,
And let 'hem fpeke, and comith forth with ine.
She toke her leve at 'hem full thriftily,
As the well could, and thei her reverence
Unto the full ydiddin hertily,
And wondir well fpekin in her abfence
Of her, in praifing of her excellence,
Her govinaunce, her wit, and her manere
Commendidin, that it joie was to here.
Now let her wende unto her ownè place,
And tournin we to Troilus againe,
That gan full lightly of the lettir pace
That Deiphobus had in the gardine faine,
And of Helen and of him he would feine
Delívirid ben, and faied that him left
To flepe, and aftir talis have a reſt.
Helen him kift, and toke her leve as blive,
Deiphobus eke, and home went every wight,
And Pandarus as fafte as he maie drive
To Troilus tho came as line right,
And on a paillet all that gladè night,
By Troilus he laie with merie chere,
And well was them that thei werein yfere.
Whan every wight was voided but thei two,
And all the doris werin faſt iſhet,
To tell in ſhort, withoutin wordis mo,
This Pandarus withoutin any let
Up rofe, and on his bedd'is fide him fet,
And gan to fpekin in a fobir wife
To Troilus as I fhall you devife.
Mine aldirleviſt Lorde, and brothir dere!
God wot and thou that it fate me fo fore
Whan I the fawe fo languiſhing to yere
For love, of whiche thy wo woxe alwaie more,
That I with all my might and all my lore
Have ever fithin doen my buſineffe
To bringin the to joie out of diftreffe;
And have it brought to foche plite as thou woft,
So that through me thou ftondift now in waie
To farin well, I faie it for no boſt;
And woft thou why? but fhame it is to faie,
For the have I begon a game to plaie
Whiche that I nevir doen ſhall eft for other,
Altho he were a thoufande fold my brother;
That is to faie, for the am I become,
Betwixin game and erneft, foche a mene
As makin women unto men to come,
All faie I nat, thou woft well what I mene,
For the have I my nece, of vicis clene,
So fully made thy gentillneffe to triſt
That all fhall ben right as thy felfin liſt.
But God, that all wotteth, take I to witneſſe
That never this for covetife I wrought,
But onely for to abredge that diftreffe
For whiche well nie thou deydift, as me thought;
But, gode brothir, doith now as the ought
For Godd'is love, and kepe her out of blame,
Sins thou art wife, and fave alwaie her name:
For wel thou wofte the name as yet of her
Emonges the peple' as (who faieth) halowed is,
For that man is unbore, I dare well fwere,
That ever wift that fhe yet did amis :
But wo is me that I that cauſe all this
Maie thinkin that fhe is my necê dere,
And I her eme, and traitour cke iferc.
{
2
Eoke III.
365
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
And wer it wift that I through mine engine
Had in my nece iput this fantaſie
To doen thy luft, and wholly to be thine,
Why, all the worlde wouldin upon it crie,
And fayin that I the worſt trecherie
Did in this cafe that evir was begon,
And ſhe fordon, and thou right nought iwon.
Wherefore er I woll ferthir gone or paas
Yet efte I the befeche and fully faie
That privite go with us in this caas,
That is to faine, that thou us never wraie;
And be not wrothe though I the oftin praie
To holdin fecre foche an high matter,
For fkilfull is, thou wofte well, my praier.
And thinke what wo there hath betid er this
For making of avauntis, as men rede,
And what mifchaunce in this worlde yet there is
Fro daie to daie right for that wickid dede,
For whiche thefe wife clerkis that ben dede
Have evir this proverbid to us young,
That The first vertue is to kepe the toung.
And n'ere it that I wilne as now abredge
Diffufion of fpeche, I could almoſte
A thouſande oldè ftories the aledge
Of women lofte through falfe and fol'is bofte;
Proverbis canft thy felf inow, and wofte
Ayenift that vice for to ben a blabbe
All faied men fothe, as often as thei gabbe.
O tongue, alas! fo oftin here before
Haft thou made many a ladie bright of hewe
Saied, Welawaie the daie that I was bore!
And many' a maidins forrowe for to newe;
And for the more parte all is but untrue
That men of yelpe and it wer brought to preve;
Of kindè nonc avauntour is to leve.
Avauntour and a lier all is one,
As thus; I fuppofe a woman graunt me
Her love, and faieth that othir woll fhe none,
And I am fworne to holdin it fecre,
And aftir I goe tell it two or thre;
Iwis I am a vauntour at the left,
And lier eke, for I breke my beheſt.
Now lokith than if thei be not to blame
Soche manir folk, what fhal I clepe 'hem, what?
That 'hem avaunt of women, and by name,
That yet behight 'hem nevir this ne that,
Ne knowin 'hem no more than mine olde hat:
No wondir is, fo God me fendin hele,
Though women dredin with us men to dele.
I faie nat this for no miſtruſt of you,
Ne for no wife men, but for folis nice,
And for the harme that in the worlde is now
As well for folie oft as for malice,
For well wote I that in wife folk that vice
No woman drat, if she be well avifed,
For Wife men ben by folis harme chafliſed.
But now to purpoſe, levé brothir dere!
Have all this thing that I have faied in minde,
And kepe the clafe, and be now of gode chere,
For all thy daics thou shalt me true yfinde;
I fhall thy proceffe fet in foche a kinde,
And God tofornc, that it fhall the fuffife,
For it fhall be right as thou wolt devife.
For well I wote thou menift well parde,
Therefore I dare this fully undirtake;
Thou woft eke what thy ladie grauntid the,
And daic is ſet the charteris to make :
Have now gode night, I maie no lengir wake,
And bid for me, fith thou art now in bliffe,
That God me fende deth or fonè liffe.
Who might ytellin halfe the joie or feſte
Whiche that the foule of Troilus tho felte!
Hering the' effect of Pandarus behefte
His olde wo, that made his herte to fwelt,
Gan tho for joie to waſtin and to melt,
And all the reheting of his fikes fore
At onis fled, he felt of 'hem no more;
But right ſo as theſe holtes and theſe hayis
That han in wintir dedde yben and drie
Reveftin 'hem in grene whan that Maie is,
Whan every luftie befte liftith to pleie,
Right in that felfin wife, fothe for to ſeie,
Woxe fodainly his herte full of joie,
That gladdir was there nevir man in Troie ;
And gan his loke on Fandarus up caft
Full fobirly, and frendly on to fe,
And fayid, Frende, in Aprilis the laſt,
As well thou woft, if it remembir the,
How nigh the deth for wo thou foundè me,
And how thou diddift all thy buſineſſe
To knowe of me the caule of my diftreffe;
Thou woft how long I it forbare to faie
To the that art the man that I beſt trift,
And perill none was to the to bewraie,
That wift I well; but tell me if the lift,
Sith I fo lothe was that thy felf it wift,
How durft I mo tellin of this matere
That quake now tho no wight maie us here?
But nathèleffe, by that God I the fwere,
That as him lift maie all this world governe,
And if I lie Achillis with his fpere
Mine hertè cleve, all were my life eterne,
As I am mortall, if I late or yerne
Would it bewraie, or durft, or ſhould, or conne,
For all the gode that God made undir fonne;
That rathir die I would and determine,
As thinkith me now, stockid in prifoun,
In wretchidneffe, in filthe, and in vermine,
Captife to cruill King Agamemnoun;
And this in all the templis of this toun,
Upon the goddis all, I woll the fwere,
To morowe daie, if that the likith here.
And that thou haft fo moche idoen for me
That I ne maie it nevirmore deferve
This knowe I well, all might I now for the
A thouſande timis on a morowe ſterve;
I can no more but that I woll the ferve
Right as thine own flave, whithir fo thou wende
For evirmore unto my liv'is ende.
But here with al mine herte I the befeche
That nevir in me thou deme foche folie,
As I fhall faine, me thought by thy fpeche,
That this whiche thou me doeft for companie
I fhould wenin it were a baudèrie;
I am not wode all if I leude ybe:
It is nat fo, that wote I well parde,.
308
Boke IIIs
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE,
!
But he that goeth for gold or for richeffe
On foche meffagis, call him what ye lift,
And this that thou doeft, call it gentilneffe,
Compaffion, and felowſhip, and trift,
Departin it fo, for widewhere is wiſt
How that there is diverfite requered
Betwixin thingis like, as I have lered.
And that thou knowe I ne thinke not ne wene
That this ſervice a fhame be or a jape,
I have my fairè fuftir Polyxene,
Caffandra', Helen, or any of the frape,
Be ſhe never fo faire or well iſhape,
Tell me whiche thou wilt of everichone
To have for thine, and let me than alone.
But fith that thou haft doen me this fervice
My life to fave, and for non hope of mede,
So for the love of God this grete empriſe
Performe it out, for now is the mofte nede;
For high and lowe, withoutin any drede,
I woll alwaie thine heftis allè kepe:
Have now gode night, and let us bothè flepe.
Thus held 'hem eche of othir well apaied,
That all the worlde ne might it bet amende,
And on the morowe, whan thei were araied
Eche to his ownè nedis gan entende;
But Troilus, though as the fire he brende
For ſharpe defire of hope and of plefaunce,
He not forgate his gode wife govirnaunce;
But in himſelf with manhode gan reftrain
Eche rakill dede and eche unbridlid chere,
That all tho that livin, fothe for to faine,
Ne fhould have wifte by worde or by manere
What that he ment as touching this matere,
From every wight as ferre as is the cloud,
He was fo wife, and well diffimu’len coud.
And all the while whiche that I now devife
This was his life, with all his fullè might,
By daie he was in Mart'is high fervice,
That is to fain, in armis as a knight,
And fore the more part all the longè night
He lay and thought how that he might yſerve
His ladie befte, her thanke for to deſerve.
N'ill I not fwerin, although he laie foft,
That in his thought he n'as fomwhat difefed,
Ne that he tournid on his pillowes oft,
And would of that him miffid have ben efed;
But in foche cafe men be nat alwaie plefed
For aught I wote, no more than was he,
That can I deme of poffibilite.
But certain is, to purpoſe for to go,
That in this while, as written is in gefte,
He fawe his ladie fomtime, and alſo
But thilkè little that thei fpake or wrought
His wife ghofte toke aic of all foche hede,
It femid her he wiſte what ſhe thought
Withoutin worde, fo that it was no nede
To bid him aught to doen or aught forbede,
For which the thought that love, al come it late,
Of alle joie had openid her the yate.
And ſhortly to this proceffe for to pace,
So well his werke and wordis he befet
That he fo full ftode in his ladie's grace
That twentie thouſande timis er fhe let
She thonkid God fhe evir with him met;
So could he him governe in ſoche ſervice
That all the worlde ne might it bet devife:
For why? the founde him fo difcrete in all;
So fecrete, and eke of fuch obeifaunce,
That well fhe felt he was to her a wall
Of ſteele, and fhelde from every difplefaunce,
That to yben in his gode govirnaunce,
So wife he was, fhe was no more afered,
I mene as fere as it ought ben requered.
And Pandarus to quicke alwaie the fire
Was evir ilike preft and diligent;
To efe his frende was fet al his defire;
He fhove aie on; he to and fro was fent,
He lettirs bare whan Troilus was abfent,
That nevir man as in his frend'is nede
Ne bare him bet than he withoutin drede.
But now para'venture fome man waitin wold
That every worde or foude, or loke or chere,
Of Troilus that I rehercin fhold,
In al this while unto his lady dere,
I trowe it were a long thing for to here,
Or of what wight that ftonte in fuche diftointe
His wordis al or every loke to pointe.
Forfothe I have not herde it done er this
In ſtorie none, ne no man here I wene,
And though I would yet I could not iwis,
For there was fome epiftel 'hem betwene
That would (as faith min auctor) wel contene
Nie halfe this boke, of which him lift not write y
How should I than a line of it endite?
}
But to the gret effecte than faie I thus,
That ftonding in concorde and in quiete
This ilkè two, Crefeide and Troilus,
As I have tolde, and in this timè fwete,
Save onely ofte mightin thei not mete,
Ne leifir have ther fpechis to fulfell,
That it befil right as I fhal you tell,
That Pandarus, that evir did his might
Right for the fine that I fhal fpeke of here,
As for to bringin to his houfe fome night
Where as at leifir al this high matere
Touching her love were at the ful up
Had out of doute a time to it yfounde;
She with him fpake when that ſhe durft and lefte, His fairè nece and Troilus ifere,
And by ther both avife, as was the beſte,
Appoinctidin full warely in this nede,
So as thei durft, how they wouldin procede.
But it was fpokin in ſo ſhort a wiſe,
In foche awaite alwaic, and in foche fere,
Left any wight divinin or divife
Would of 'hem two, or to it laie an ere,
That all this worlde fo lefe to 'hem ne were
As that Cupido would 'hem his grace fende
To makin of ther purpoſe right an ende,
bounde,
For he with grete deliberacion,
Had every thing that therto might availe
Forne caft, and put in execution,
And neithir lefte for cofte ne for travaile;
Come if 'hem lifte 'hem fhouldè nothing faile
And for to ben in aught efpyid there
That wifte he wel an impoffible were-
Boke III.
507
TROILUS AND CRESEID E.
And dredèleffe it clere was in the winde
Of every pie and every letgame,
Now al is wel, for al the world is blinde
In this matir bothè fremid and tame;
This timber is al redy up to frame;
Us lackith naught but that we wetin wold
A certaine houre in whiche fhe comin fhold,
And Troilus, that al this purveiaunce
Knew at the ful, and waited on it aie,
And hereupon eke made gret ordinaunce,
And founde his cauſe and therwith his aray,
Yf that he were ymiffid night or day,
There while he was aboutin this fervice,
That he was gon to don his facrifice,
And muſte at fuche a temple alone wake,
Anſwerid of Apollo for to be,
And firſt to ſene the holy laurir quake
Er that Apollo fpake out of the tre,
To tellin him whan Grekis next ſhould fle;
And forthy let him no man, God forbede!
But praie Apollo helpin in this nede.
Now is there litill more for to be done
But Pandare up, and, fhortly for to faine,
Right fone upon the chaunging of the mone,
Whan lightleffe is the world a night or twaine,
And that the welkin fhope him for to raine,
He ftreight amorowe unto his nece went,
Ye have wel herde the fine of his entente.
Whan he was comen' he gan anon to plaie,
As he was wont, and of himſelfe to jape,
And finally he fwore, and gan her faie
By this and that, ſhe ſhould him not eſcape,
No lengir done him aftir her to cape,
But certainly that ſhe muſt, by her leve,
Come foupin in his houſe with him at eve.
At which the lough, and gan her firſt excuſe,
And faid, It rainith, lo! how fhould I gone?
Let be, (quod he) ne ftonde not thus to mufe;
This mote be don, ye hal come there anone,
So at the laſt herof thei fel at one,
Or ellis foft he fwore her in her ere
He n'olde nevir comin there fhe were.
Sone aftir this fhe unto him gan rowne,
And afkid him if Troilus were there?
He fwore her Nay, for he was out of towne,
And faid, What, nece, I poſe that he were there,
You durft nevir thereof have the more ferc?
For rathir than men might him there aſpie
Me levir were a thouſande folde to die.
Naught lift mine auctour fully to declare
What that the thought whan that he ſaid her ſo,
That Troilus was out of toune ifare,
And if he faidè therof foth or no,
But that without awaite with him to go
She grauntid him, fithe he her that befought,
And as his nece obeyid as her ought.
But nathêleffe yet gan fhe him befeche,
Although with him to gone it was no fere,
For to beware of gofifhe peplis fpeche,
That dremin thingis whiche that nevir were,
And well avifin him whom he brought there;
And faid him, Eme, fens I muft on you trift
Loke al be wel; I do now as you liſt,
He ſwore her this by ſtockis and by ftones,
And by the goddis that in hevin dwell,
Or ellis were him levir foule and bones
With Pluto King as depè ben in hell
As Tantalus: what fhouldin I more tell?
Whan al was wel he roſe and toke his leve,
And the to foupir came whan it was eve,
With a certaine numbre of her owne men,
And with her fayir nece Antigone,
And othir of her women nine or ten;
But who was glad nowe, who, as trowyin ye?
But Troilus, that ftode and might it fe
Throughout a litil window in a ſtewe,
Ther he befhet till midnight was in mewe,
Unwift of every wight but of Pandare.
But to the point. Now whan that ſhe was come
With al joie, and all her frendis in fare,
Her eme anone in armis hath her nome,
And aftir to the foupir al and fome,
Whan as time was, ful fofte thei 'hem yfet,
God wot there was no deinte ferre to fet.
And aftir foupir gonnin thei to riſe,
At efe wel, with hertis full freſh and glade,
And wel was him that coudè beſt deviſe
To likin her, or that her laughin made:
He fonge, the plaide; he tolde a tale of Wade;
But at the laſt, as every thing hath ende,
She toke her leve, and nedis would thens wende.
But, o Fortune! executrice of wierdes,
O influencis of theſe hevins hie!
Soth is that undir God ye ben our hierdes,
Though to us beftis ben the caufis wrie;
This mene I now, for the gan homward hie;
But execute was al befide her leve
The goddis wil, for whiche fhe muft bileve.
The bentè mone with her hornis all pale,
Saturn and Jove, in Cancro joynid were,
That fuche a raine from hevin gan availe
That every manir woman that was there
Had of that fmoky raine a very fere,
At the which Pandare tho lough, and faid thenne,
Now were it time a lady to gone henne?
But, gode nece, if that I might evir pleſe
You any thing, than pray I you (quod he)
To don mine hert as now fo gret an eſe
As for to dwell here al this night with me;
For why this is your ownè houſe parde,
For by my trouthe, I fay it nat in game,
To wende as nowe it were to me a fhame.
Creſeide, which that could as mokil gode
As halfe a world, toke hede of his prayere,
And fens it rained, and al was in a flode,
She thought as gode chepe may I dwellin here,
And graunt it gladly with a frend'is chere,
And have a thonke, as grutche and than abide,
For home to gon it may nat well betide.
I wol, (quod fhe) mine uncle lefe and dere!
Sens that you lift; it ſkil is to be ſo ;
I am right glad with you to dwellin here;.
I feide but in game that I wolde goc.
Iwis graunt mercy! necé, (quod he) tho;
Were it a game or no, the fothe to tell,
Now am I glad fens that you lift to dwell.
368
Boke III.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Thus al is wel; but tho began aright
The newè joy, and al the feſt againe;
But Fandarus, if godely had he might,
He would have hyid her to bedde full faine,
And faid, O Lorde! this is an hugè raine,
This were a wethir for to flepin in,
And that I rede us fone to begin:
And, necè, wot ye where I wol you laie?
For that we fhul nat liggin ferre afonder,
And for ye neithir fhullin, dare I faie,
Herin the noife of rainis ne of thonder,
By God right in my litil clofet yonder,
And I wol in that uttir houfe alone
Ben wardain of your women everichone;
And in this middle chambre that
ye
fe
Shal all your women flepin wel and fofte,
And there I fayid fhal your felvin be.
And if ye liggin wel to night come ofte,
And carith not what wethir is alofte.
Goth in anone, and whan fo that ye
left
Go we to ſlepe, I trowe it be the beſt.
There n'is no morè, but here aftir ſone
Thei drank, voidid, and curtins drew anone;
Gan every wight that hadde nought to done
More in the place out of the chambre gone;
And evir more fo fternèliche it rone,
And blewe therwith fo wonderlichê loude,
'That wel nigh no man herin othir coude,
Tho Pandarus her eme, right as him ought,
With women fuche as were her moft aboute,
Ful glad unto her bedd'is fide her brought,
And toke his leve, and gan ful lowe to loute,
And faid, Here at this cloſet dore withoute
Right ovirthwart your women liggin all,
That whom ye lift of 'hem ye maie fone call.
So whan that he was in the cloſet laide,
And al her women forth by ordinaunce
A bedde werin, there as I have yfaide,
There n'as no more to fkippin nor to praunce
But bodin go to bedde with mifchaunce,
If any wight ftering were any where,
And let 'hem flepin that abedde ywere.
But Pandaṛus, that wel couthe eche adele
The olde daunce, and every point therin,
Whan that he wiftè that all thing was wele,
He thought he wolde upon his werke begin,
And gan the ftewè dore all ſoft unpin
As ftil as ftone, withoutin lengir lette;
By Troilus adoun right he him fette.
And, fhortly to the pointe right for to gone,
Of al this werke he told him orde and ende,
And fayid, Make the redy right anone,
For thou shalt into hevin bliffe ywende.
Now blissful Venus! thou me grace yfende,
(Quod Troilus) for nevir yet no nede
Had I er now, ne halfindele the drede.
(Quod Fandarus) Ne drede the ner a dele,
For it fhal be right as thou wolt defire;
So thrive I this night fhal I make it wele,
Or caftin all the gruil in the fire.
Yet, blissful Venus! this night thou me' enfpire,
(Quod Troilus) as wis as I the ferve,
And evir bet and bet fhal til I fterve,
And if I had, o Venus ful of mirthe!
Afpectis badde of Mars or of Saturne,
Or thou Combuſte, or let were in my birth,
Thy father pray I al thilke harme diſturne
Of grace, and that I glad aien maie turne,
For love of him thou lovideft in the fhawe,
1 mene Adon, that with the bore was flawe :
O Jove! eke for the love of faire Europe,
The which in form of bulle awaie thou fet;
Now helpe, o Mars! that with thy blody cope,
For love of Cypria, thou me nought ne let;
O Phœbus thinke when Daphne her felve ſhet
Undir the barke, and laurir woxe for drede,
Yet for her love o helpe me at this nede!
O Mercurie. for the love of her eke
For which Pallas was with Aglauros wrothe
Now helpe; and eke Diane! I the befeke
That this viage ne be nat to the lothe;
O Fatall Suftrin! whiche or any clothe
Me ſhapin was my deftine me fponne,
So helpith to this werke that is begonne!
(Quod Pandarus) Thou wretchid mouc'is hert,
Art thou agaſt ſo that ſhe wol the bite?
Why, do on this furred cloke upon thy fherte,
And folowe me, for I wol have the wite,
But bidc, and let me gon before alite;
And with that worde he gan undone a trappe,
And Troilus he brought in by the lappe.
The fternè winde fo loude began to route
That no wight other'is noiſe might yhere,
And thei that layin at the dore without
Full fikirly thei fleptin all ifere;
And Pandarus with a ful fobre chere
Goth to the dore anon withoutin lette
There as thei lay, and foftily it fhette;
And as he came ayenwarde privily
His nece awoke, and afkith, Who goeth there?
Mine ownè dere nece! (quod he) it am I,
Ne wondrith not, ne have of it no fere;
And nere he came, and faid her in her ere,
No worde for love of God I you befeche,
Let no wight rife and herin of our fpeche.
What! whiche waie be ye comen? Benedicite!
(Quod the) and how thus unwifte of 'hem all?
Here at this fecret trappè dore (quod he.)
(Quod tho Crefeide) Let me fome wight call.
Eigh God forbid that it fhould fo befall
(Quod Pandarus) that ye fuche foly wrought!
Thei might demin thing that thei nevir thought.
it is nat gode a feping hounde to wake.
Ne yeve a wight a cauſe for to divine;
Your women flepin al I undirtake,
So that for thein the houſe men mightin mine,
And flepin wollen till the funnè fhine,
And when my tale ybrought is to an ende
Unwift right as I came fo wol I wende.
Now, nece mine, ye fhul well undirftonde,
(Quod he) fo as ye women demin all,
That for to holde in love a man in honde,
And him her lefe and her dese hert to call,
And makin him an how above a call,
I mene, as love an othir in mene while,
She doth her felfe a fhame and him a gile,
Boke III.
369
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE:
Now wherby that I tellin you al this
Ye wote your felfe as wel as any wight,
How that your love'al fully grauntid is
To Troilus, that is the worthieft wight
One of the world, and therto trouth iplight,
That but it were on him alonge ye n'olde
Him nevir falfin while ye levin fholde.
Now ftonte it thus, that fith I fro you went
This Troilus, right platly for to feine,
Is through a guttir by a privy went
Into my chambre come in al this reine,
Unwift of every manir wight certaine
Save of iny felfe, as wifely have I joie,
And by the faith I owe Priam of Troie
And he is come in fuche paine and diftreffe
That but he be all fully wode by this
He fodainly mote fall into wodeneffe
But if God helpe: and the cauſe why is this,
He faith him told is of a frende of his
How that ye ſhould love one that hight Horaft,
For forow of which this night fhal be his laft.
Crefeide, whiche that al this wondir herde,
Gan fodainly aboute her hert to colde,
And with a figh fhe forowfully anſwerd;
Alas! I wende whofoere talis tolde,
My dere hert, certis, eme, would me nat holde
So lightly faulfe: alas! conceitis wrong
What harme thei done! for now live I to long.
Horafte, alas! and falfin Troilus!
I knowe him not, God helpe me fo! (quod fhe.)
Alas! what wickid ſpirite tolde him thus?
Now certis, eme, to morow' and I him ſe
fhal therof as full excufin me
As evir did woman, if that him like,
And with that worde fhe gan full fore to fike.
O God! (quod fhe) fo worldly felineſſe,
Whiche clerkis callin falfe felicite,
Ymedlid is with many' a bitterneffe
Ful anguifhous, that is, God wote, (quod fhe)
Condicion of veine profperite,
For eithir joyis comin nat ifere,
Or ellis no wight hath 'hem alwaie here.
Obrotil wele of mann'is joie unſtable!
With what wight fo thou be, or how thou playe,
Eithir he wote that thou joie art mutable,
Or wote it nate, it mote been one of twaie :
Now if he wote it nat how maie he faie
That he hath very joie and filineffe
That is of ignoraunce aie in darkeneſſe ?
Now if he wote that joy is tranfitory,
(As every joie of worldly thing mote flie)
Than every time he that hath in memory
The drede of leſing makith him that he
May in no parfite fikerneffe ybe,
And if to lefe his joie he fet a mite
Than femith it that joy is worth ful lite.
Wherfore I wol define in this matere,
That truly for aught I can eſpie
There is no very wele in this world here;
But o thou wickid ferpent Jealoufie!
Thou miſbelevid, envious folie,
Why haft thou Troilus made me to untriſt,
That nevir yet agilte him that I wiſte ?
VOL. I.
(Quod Pandarus) Thus fallin is this caas.
Why, uncle mine, (quod fhe) who tolde him this?
And why doth my dere hertè thus alas!
Ye wote, ye, nece min, (quod he) what it is;
I hope al fhal be wel that is amis,
For ye maie quenche al this if that you left;
And doeth right fo; I holde it for the beſt.
So fhal I do to morow', iwis, (quod ſhe)
And God toforne, fo that it fhal fuffice.
To morow, alas! that were faire (quod he.)
Nay, nay, it maie nat ftondin in this wife,
For, necè mine, thus writin clerkis wife,
That Peril is with dretching in ydrawe;
Nay, fuche abodis ben nat worthe an hawe.
Nece, alle thing hath time, I dare avowe,
For whan a chambre' a fire is or an hall,
Wel more nede is it fodainly refcowe
Than to diſpute and afke amongis all
How is this candil in the ſtrawe yfall?
Ah, benedicite! for al among that fare
The harme is done, and farwél feldèfare.
And, necè mine, ne take it nat agrefe
If that ye fuffre' him al night in this wo;
God helpe me fo ye had him nevir lefe;
What dare I fain, now there is but we two,
But wel I wote that ye wol nat ſo do,
Ye ben to wife to don fo gret folie,
To put his life al night in jeopardie.
Had I him nevir lefe? by God I wene
Ye ne had nevir thing fo lefe, (quod fhe.)
Now by my thrifte (quod he) that ſhall be fene,
For fithe ye make this enfample of me,
If I al night would him in forowe ſe
For al the trefour in the toune of Troie,
I bidde God that I nevir mote have joie.
Now loke than if ye that ben his love
Should put his life all night in jeopardy
For thing of nought: now by that God above
Nat onely this delaie cometh of folie
But of malice, if that I ſhould nat lie :
What platly and ye fuffre' him in diftreffe
Ye neithir bounte done ne gentilneffe.
(Quod tho Crefeide) Wol ye done o thing,
And ye therwith fhal ftinte al his difefe,
Have here and berith him this blewè ring,
For there is nothing might him bettir pleſe
Save I myfelfe, ne more his hert apeſe;
And faie, my derè herte! that his forowe
İs caufèleffe, that ſhal he fene to morowe.
A ringe! (quod he) ye hafilwodis fhaken!
Ye, nèce mine,,that ring muft have a ftone,
A ſtone which that might ded men alive maken,
And fuche a ring trowe I that ye have none:
Difcrecion out of your hed is gone,
That fele I now, (quod he) and that is routhe:
O time iloft, wel maift thou curfin flouthe!
Wote ye not wel that noble and hie corage
Ne foroweth nat, ne ſtintith eke for lite,
But if a fole were in a jelous rage
I n'olde fettin at his forowe a mite,
But fefte him with a few wordis white
An othir deic, whan that I might him finde ;
But this thing ſtant al in anothir kinde;
A a
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Boke IIT
This is fo gentle' and fo tendir of herte
That with his deth he wol his forowes wreke,
For trust it wel how fore fo that him fmerte
He wol to you no jelous wordis fpeke;
And forthy, nece, er that his hert to breke,
So fpeke your felfe to him of this matere,
For with a worde ye maie his hertè ftere.
Now have I tolde what peril he is in,
And his coming unwift to every wight,
Ne parde harme maie there be none ne fin,
I wol my felf be with you al this night;
Ye know eke how it is your ownè knight,
And by that right ye muft upon him triſte,
And I al preft to fetche him when you lifte.
This accident fo pitous was to here,
And eke fo like a fothe, at primè face,
And Troilus her knight, to her fo dere,
His prive comming, and the fikir place,
That though fhe thought ſhe did him than a grace,
Confidirid all thingis as they ftode,
No wondir is, fens he did al for gode.
Crefeide anfwerde, As wifely God at reft
My foule bring as me is for him wo,
And, eme, iwis faine would I don the beft,
If that I a grace had for to do fo
But whethir that ye dwel or for him go
am, til God me bettir mindè fende,
At Dulcarnon, right at my witt'is ende.
I
3.
(Quod Pandarus) Ye, necè, wol ye here,
Dulcarnon clepid is fleming of wretches,
It femith hard, for wretchis wol nought lese
For very flouthe, or othir wilfull tetches,
This faid is by them that ben't worth two fetches;
But ye ben wife, and that ye han on honde
N'is neithir harde ne fkilful to withſtonde.
Than, eme, (quod fhe) doeth hereof as you lift,
But er he come I wol up firft arife,
And for the love of God, fens al my trift
Is on you two, and ye beth bothe wife,
So werkith now, in fo difcrete a wife,
That I honour maie have and he pleſaunce,
For I am here at in your govirnaunce,
That is wel faid, (quod he) my necè dere!
There gode thrifte on that wife gentill herte;
But liggith fill, and takith him right here,
It nedith nat no ferthir for him ſterte;
And eche of you efe othir forowes ſmert,
For love of God and Venus I the herie,
For fone hope I that we fhullin ben merie.
This Troilus full fone on knees him fette
Ful fobrely right by her bedd'is hed,
And in his beftè wife his lady grette;
But Lord fo fhe woxe fodainliche all red,
And thought anone how that the fhulde be dedde;
She couldè nat o worde aright out bringe,
So fodainly for his fodaine cominge.
But Pandarus, that fo wel could fele
In every thing, to plaie anon began,
And fayid, Nece, fe how this lord gan knele,,
Now for your trouthè fe this gentil man;
And with that worde he for a quifhin ran,
And faid, Knelith now whilis that thou lefte,
There God your hertis bring fone to refte.
Can I naught faint, for fhe bad him hat rife,
If forowe' it put out of her remembraunce,
Or ellis that the toke it in the wife
Of ductie as for his obfervaunce;
But well finde I fhe did him this plefaunce,
That ſhe him kift, although fhe fikid fore,
And bad him fit adoun withoutin more.
(Quod Pandaras) Now wol ye well begin,
Now doth him fittin doune, gode necè dere!
Upon your bedd'is fide, al there within,
That eche of you the bet maie othir here;
And with that worde he drew him to the ferc,
And toke a light, and found his countinaunge
As for to loke upon an old romaunce.
Crefeide, that was Troilus lady right,
And clere ftode in a grounde of fikirneffe,
All thought the that her fervaunt and her knight
Ne fhulde of trouthe none unright of her geffe,
Yet nathèleffe, confidrid his diftreffe,
And that love is in caufe of fuche folie,
Thus to him ſpake the of his jelouſie :
Lo, hertè mine! as would the excellence
Of love, aienft the whiche that no man maic,
Ne ought eke godely makin reſiſtence,
And eke bicaufe I feltè wel and faie
Your grete trouth and fervice evèry daic,
And that your hert al mine was, foth to faine,
'This drove me for to rewe upon your paine;
And your godenes have I founden' alway yet,
Of whiche my dere hert, and al my knight!
I thanke it you, as ferre as I have wit,
Al can I nat as much as it were right;
And I emforth my conning and my might
Have, and aie fhal, how fore fo that me finert,
Ben to you trewe and whole with all mine here;
And dredileffe that fhal be founde at preve :
But, hertê mine! what al this is to faine
Shal well be told, fo that ye nought you greve,
Though I to you right on your felf complaine,
For therewith mene I finally the paine
That halt your hert and mine in hevineffe
Fully to flaine, and every wrong redreffe.
My gode hert mine! n'ot I for why ne how
That Jeloufy, alas that wicked wivere,
Thus caufèleffe is cropin into you,
The harme of whiche I would fain delivere:
Alas! that he all whole or of him Alivere
4
Should have his refute in fo digne a place!
Than Jove him fone out of your herte erace!
But o thou Jove! o auctour of nature!
Is this an honour to thy dignite
That folke ungilty fuffrin here injure,
And who that gilty is al quite goeth he?
O were it lefull for to plaine of the,
That undefervid fuffrift jeloufie,
Of that I would upon the plaine and crie.
Eke al my wo is this, that folke now ufen
To faine right thus; Ye, jeloufie is love,
And would a bufhil' of venim excufen,
For that a grane of love is on it ſhove,
But that wote high. Jove that fittin above
If it be liktir love, or hate, or grame,
And aftir that it ought to bere his namę
2
Boke 111.
3
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
But certaine is fome manir jeloufie
Is excufable more than fome iwis,
As whan caufe is and fome fucht fantafie,
With pite that fo wel expreffid is
That it unnethis doeth or faith amis,
But godely drinkith up al his diftreffe,
And that excufe I for the gentilneffe.
And fome fo ful of fury'is and difpite
That it furmountith his repreffion;
But, hertè mine! ye be nat in that plite,
That thonke I God, for whiche your paffion
I wol nat cal it but illufion
Of haboundaunce of love and befy cure,
That doth your hertê this difefe endure;
Of which I am right fory but nat wrothe,
But for my devoir and your hért’is refte.
Where ſo you lift, by ordal or by othe,
By forte, or in what wife ſo that you lefte,
For love of God let preve it for the befte,
And if that I be gilty do me die;
Alas what might I more or done or feie?
And tho with that a fewe bright teris newe
Out of her eyin fel, and thus fhe feide;
Now God, thou woft in thought ne dede antrewe
To Troilus was nevir yet Crefeide;
With that her hed doun in the bed the leide,
And with the fhete it wrie, and fighid ſore,
And held her pece; nat a word ſpake ſhe more.
But now helpe God to quench al this forow,
So hope I that he fhal, for he befte may,
For 1 bave fene of a ful mifly morow
Folowen ful oft a mery fomir's day,
And Aftir wintir foloweth grene May;
Men fene all day, and redin eke in ſtories,
That Aftir foarp flouris ben victories.
This Troilus, when he her wordis herde,
Have ye no care him liftè nat to flepe,
For it thought him no ſtrokis of a yerde
To here or fe Crefeide his lady wepe,
But wel he felte about his hertè crepe,
For
every tere whiche that Crefeide afterte,
The crampe of deth to ftraine him by the herte.
And in his minde he gan the time accurfe
That he came there, and that he was yborne,
For now his wicke ytournid into worfe,
And all that labour he hath doen beforne
He wende it loft, he thought it n'as but lorne :
O Pandarus! thought he, alas! thy wile
Servith of nought, fo welawaie the while!
And therwith all he hing adoune his hedde,
And fell on knees, and forowfully fight:
What might he fain? he felt he n'as but dedde,
For wroth was fhe that fhould his forowes light;
But nathèleffe whan that he fpekin might,
Than faid he thus; God wote that of this game
Whan all is wift than am I nat to blame.
'Therwith the forowe in hert fo fliet
That from his eyin fell there nat a tere,
And every fpirite his vigour in knet,
So thei aftonied and oppreffid were;
The feling of his forowe or his fere,
Or of aught ellis, fledde were out of toune;
Adoune he fell all fodainly in fwoune.
This was no little forowe for tò fe,
But all was huſh't, and Pandare up as faft;
O nécè! pece; or we be loft (quod he ;)
Bethe nat agaft; but certain at the laſt
For this or that he into bedde him caft,
And faide, Ở thefe! is this a mann'is herte?
And of he rent all to his barê fherte,
And fayid, Nece, but and ye helpe us now,
Alas! your ownè Troilus is lorne.
Iwis fo would I, and I wiftè how,
Full fain, (quod fhe,) Alas that I was borne!
Ye, nece, woll ye pullin out the thorne
That ftiketh in his hertè (quod Pandare?)
Saie all foryeve, and ſtint is all this fare.
Ye, that to me (quod the) full levir were
Than all the gode the funne about ygoeth;
And therewithall fhe fwore him in his ere,
Iwis, my derè herte! I am not wrothe,
Have here my trouth, and many' an othir othe
Now fpeke to me, for it am I Crefeide:
But all for naught; yet might he not abreide.
Therwith his poulce and paumis of his hondes
Thei gan to frote, and wete his templis twain,
And to delivir him fro bittir bondes
She oft him kift; and, fhortly for to ſain,
Him to rewakini fhe did all her pain;
And at the laft he gan his breth to drawe,
And of his fwough fone aftir that adawe,
And gan bet minde and refon to him take:
But wondir fore he was abaſhed iwis,
And with a figh whan he gan bet awake
He faied, O mercie, God! what thing is this?
Why doe ye with your felvin thus amis?
(Quod tho Crefeide) is this a mann'is game?
What, Troilus ! woll ye do thus for fhame?
And therwithall her arme ovre' him the laide
And all foryave, and oftin time him keft:
He thonkid her, and to her fpake and faied
As fill to purpoſe for his hert'is reft;
And the to that anfwerde him as her left,
And with her godelie wordis him diſport
She gan, and oft his forowes to comfort.
(Quod Pandarus) For aught I can afpien
This light nor I ne ferving here of naught,
Light is nat gode for fike folkis eyen;
But for the love of God, fens ye ben brought
In this gode plite, let now non hevy thoughs
Ben hangid in the hertis of you twey;
And bare the candle towardes the chinney.
Sone after this, though it no nede ywere,
Whan the foche othis as her lift devife
Had of him takin, her thought tho no fere
Ne caufe eke none to bid him thennis rife :
Yet leffe thing than othis male fuffice
In many' a cafe, for every wight I geffe
That lovith well menith but gentilneffe.
But in effect he would ywète anon
Of what man, and eke where, and alfo why,
He jelous was, fens there was caufè non,
And eke the figne whiche that he toke it by,
She bade him that to tell her bufily,
Or ellis certain fhe bare him on houde
That this was doen of malice, her to fonde:
C
A a ij
370-
Boke 111.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
}
Withoutin more, fhortly for to ſain,
He must obeie unto his ladie's heft,
And for the laffe harme he muſt fomwhat fain;
He faied her, Whan fhe was at foche a feft
She might on him have lokid at the left;
N'ot I nat what (all dere inough a rifhe)
As he that nedis muſt a caufe out fifhe.
And the anfwerde, Swete hert! all were it fo,
What harme was that, fince I non evill mene?
For by that God that wrought us bothè two
In all manir thing is mine entent clene;
Soche argumentes ne be nat worthe a bene
Woll ye the childiſh jelous counterfete?
Now were it worthy that ye were ibete.
Tho Troilus gan forowfully fike,
Left fhe be wrothe kini thought his hertè deide,
And faïed, Alas! upon my forowe's fikc
Have mercie, o fwete hertè mine, Crefcide!
And if that in the wordis that I feide
Be any wrong, I woll no more treſpace;
Doeth what you lift; I am all in your grace.
And the anfwerde, Of gilt mifericorde,
That is to faine, that I foryeve all this,
And evirmore on this night you recorde,
And bethe well ware ye de no more amis.
Naie, dere hert mine no more (quod he) iwis.
And now (quod fhe) that I have you doe fmerte
Foryeve it to me, mine owne fwetè herte !
This Troilus with bliffe of that fupprifed
Put all in Godd'is hande, as he that ment
Nothing but well, and fodainly aviſed
He her in his armis faft to him hent;
And Pandarus with a full gode entent
Laied him to flepe, and faied, If
ye be wife
Sownith not now, left more folke arife.
What might or maie the fely larkê faie
When that the fparhauke hath him in his fote?
I can no more but of theſe ilke twaie,
(To whom this tale fugre be or fote)
Though I tary a yere, fomtime I mote
After mine aucthour tellin ther gladneffe,
As well as I have tolde ther hevineffe.
Crefcidè, whiche that felt her thus itake,
(As writin clerkis in ther bokis old)
Right as an afpin lefe fhe gan to quake
Whan fhe him felt her in his armis fold;
But Troilus all whole of caris cold
Gan thankin tho the blisfull goddis feven.
Thus Sondry painis bringin folk to beven.
This Troilus in armis gan her ſtraine,
And fayid, Swete! as evir mote I gone
Now be ye caught; now here is but we twaine;
Now yeldith you, for othir bote is none.
To that Crefeide anſwerid thus anone,
Ne had I er now, my fwete hertè dere!
Ben yoldin, iwis I were now not here.
O foth is faied, that helid for to be
Of a fevir or othir grete fikneffe
Men muſt drinkin, as we may oftin ſe,
Full bittir drinke, and for to have gladneſſe
Men drinkin oft in pain and in diſtreſſe;
I menc it here, as for this avinture,
That through a pain hath foundin al his cure.
And now fwetneffe yfemith ferre more fwete
That bittirneffe affayid was biforne,
For out of wo in bliffe now thei flete;
Non foche thei feltin fithins thei were borne
Now is this bettir than bothe two be lorne :
For love of God take every woman hede
To werkin thus if it come to the nede.
Crefeide all quite from every drede and tene,
As fhe that juftè caufe had him to trift,
Made him foche feft it joie was for to fene,
Whan fhe his trouth and clene entent ywift;
And as about a tre with many' a twiſt
Bitrent and writhin is the fwete wodbinde
Gan eche of 'hem in armis othir winde,
And as the newe abahid nightingale,
That ſtintith firft, whan fhe beginnith fing,
Whan that ſhe herith any herd'is tale,
Or in the hedgis any wight ſtering,
And aftir fikir doeth her voice out ring,
Right fo Creſeide, whan that her drede ftent,
Opened her hert, and told him her entent.
And right as he that feeth his deth iſhapen,
And dyin mote, in aught that he maie geffe,
And fodainly reſcous doeth him eſcapen,
And from his deth is brought in fikirneffe,
For al this worlde in foche prefent gladneffe
Was Troilus and hath his lady fwete;
With no worſe hap God let us nevir mete!
Her armis fmall, her back both ftreight and foft,
Her fidis long, and fleshy, fmothe, and white,
He gan to ftroke, and gode thrift bad full oft,
Her fnow-white throte, her breftis round and lite;
Thus in this heven' le gan him to delite,
And therwithall a thoufande times her kift,
That what to doen for joie unneth he wift.
Than faied he thus, O Love! o Charite!
Thy mothir eke, Citherea the fwete!
Aftir thy felf next heryid be fhe,
Venus I mene, the wellwilly planete,
And next that Hymenaus! I the grete,
For nevir man was to you goddis hold
As I, whiche yo have brought fro caris cold.
Benignè Love! thou holy bond of thinges,
Who fo woll grace, and lift the not honoure,
Lo! his defire woll flie withoutin winges,
For n'oldift thou of bountie 'hem focoúre
That fervin beft, and mofte alwaie laboure,
Yet were all loft, that dare I well fain certes,
But if thy grace ypaffid our defertes.
And for thou mc, that left thonke coud deferve
Of them that nombred ben unto thy grace,
Haft holpin there I likely was to ſterve,
And me beftowid in fo high a place
That thilke boundis maic no bliffe fürpace,
I can no more, but laude and reverence
Be to thy bounte and thine excellence.
And therwithall Crefeide anon he kiſt,
Of whiche certain fhe ne felt no difefe,
And thus fified he, Now wold to God I wift,
Mine hertè fwete! how I you beft might plefe.
What man (quod hc) was evir thus at efe
As I, on whiche the fairift and the beſt
That er I feie deinith her hert to reft?
Bake III.
3373
TROILUS
AND CRESEID-E.
1
Here maie ye fene that mercie paffith right,
The' experience of that is felt in me,
That am unworthy to fo fwete a wight;
But harte mine! of your benignite
So thinkith, that though I unworthy be
Yet mote I nede amendin in fome wife
Right through the vertue of your hie fervice,
And for the love of God, my lady dere!
Sith he hath wrought me for I fhal you ſerve,
As thus I mene, that ye woll be my fere
To do me live, if that you lift, or ſterve;
So techith me how that I maie deſerve
Your thonke, ſo that I through min ignoraunce
Ne doe nothing that you be diſplefaunce:
J
For certis, freſhe and womanliche wife!
This dare I faie, that trouth and diligence,
That ſhall ye findin in me all my life,
Ne I woll not certain breke your defence,
And if I doe, preſent or in abſence,
For love of God let flea me with the dede,
If that it like unto your womanhede.
Iwis, (quod fhe) mine ownè herte'is luft!
My ground of eſe, and al mine hertè dere!
Graunt mercie! for on that is all my truft:
But let us fall awaie fro this mattere,
For it fuffifith this that ſaid is here,
And at o worde, withoutin repentaunce,
Welcome my knight, my pece, my fuffifaunce!
Of ther delite or joies one of the left
Were impoffible to my wit to faic,
But judgith ye that have ben at the feſt
Of foche gladneffe, if that him lift to plaie,
I can no more but thus, thefe ilkè twaie
That night, betwixin drede and fikirneſſe,
Feltin in love the gretift worthineſſe.
O blisfull night! of them fo long ifought,
How blithe unto 'hem bothè two thou were!
Why ne' had I foche feſt with my foule ibought,
Ye, or but the left joie which that was there?
Awaie thou foulè daung ir and thou fere!
And let 'hem in this hevin bliffe ydwell,
That is fo high that all ne can I tell.
But fothe is, though I can not tellin all,
As can mine aucthour of his excellence,
Yet have I faied, and God tofornè fhall,
In every thing all wholly his fentence,
And if that I at Lov'is reverence
Have any worde in echid for the beſt,
Doeth therwithall right as your felvin left;
For all my wordis here, and every part,
I fpeke 'hem all undir correction
Of you that feling have in lov'is art,
And put it all in your diſcrecion,
To encrefe or make diminicion
Of my langage, and that I you befeche:
But now to purpoſe of my rathir ſpeche,
Thefe ilke two, that ben in armis laft,
So lothe to 'hem afondir gon
it were,
'I'hat eche from othir wendin ben biraft,
Or ellis, lo! this was ther moftè fere,
That al this thing but nicè dremis were,.
For whiche full oft eche of 'hem faid, O fwete!
Clippe I you thus, or els doe I it metę ?
And, Lorde! fo he gan godelie on her fe,
That nevir his loke ne blent from her face,
And faied, O my dere hertè! maie it be
That it be fothe that ye ben in this place?
Ye, hertè mine! God thanke I of his grace,
(Quod tho Crefeide) and therwithall him kift,
That where here fpirite was for joie fhe n'ift.
This Troilus full oft her eyin two
Gan for to kiffe, and faied, O eyin clere!
It werin ye that wrought me fochè wo,
Ye humble nettis of my lady dere,
Though there be mercie writtin in your chere,'
God wote the text full harde is for to finde;
How couldin ye withoutin bonde me binde?
Therwith he gan her faft in armis take,
And well an hundrid timis gan he fike,
Not foche forowfull fighis as men make-
For wo, or ellis whan that folke be fike,
But efie fighis, foche as ben to like,
'That fhewid his affection within ;
Of foche manir fighis could he not blin.
Sone aftir this thei fpake of fondrie thinges,
As fill to purpoſe of this avinture,
And playin enterchaungidin ther ringes,
Of whiche I can not tellin no fcripture,
But well wot a broche of gold and azure,
In whiche a rubie fet was like an hert,
Crefeide him yave, and ftacke it on his fherte.
Lorde trowe ye that a coveitous wretche
That blamith love, and halte of it difpite,
That of tho pens that he can muckre' and ketche
Was evir yet yeve to him foche delite,
As is in love in o poinct in fome plite?
Naie, doubtileffe, for all fo God me fave
So parfite joie ne maie no nigard have.
Thei woll faie Yes, but Lorde that fo thei lie!
Tho bufie wretchis full of wo and drede
That callin love a wodeneffe or folie;
But it fhall fall 'hem as I fhall you rede,
Thei fhall forgon the white and eke the rede,
And live in wo, there God yeve 'hem mifchaunces
And every lovir in his trouthe avaunce.
As would to God tho wretchis that diſpiſe-
Service of love had eris all fo long
As had Midas, all full of covetife,
And therto dronkin had as hotte and ſtrong
As Cyrus did for his affectis wrong,
To techin 'hem that thei ben in the vice,
And lovirs not, although thei hold 'hem nice.
Theſe ilkè two of whom that I you faie,
Whan that ther hertis well affurid were,
The gonnin thei to ſpekin and to plaie,
And eke reherein how, and whan, and where,
Thei knewin firft, and every wo or fere
That paffid was; but all foche hevineffe,
Ithonkid God, was tournid to gladneffe.
And evirmore whan that 'hem fell to fpeke
Of any thing of foche a time agone
With kiffing all that tale fhould ybreke,
And fallin into a newe joje anone,
And diddin all ther might, fens thei were one,
For to recoveren bliffe and ben at efe,
And paifid wo with joyis counterpaile,
A a
374
Boke III.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Refon woll not that I fpekin of flepe,
For it accordith not to my mattere;
God wote thei toke of it full little képe,
But left this night that was to 'hem fo dère
Ne should in vaine efcape in no manere
It was bifet in joie and bufineffe
Of all that founith into gentilneffe.
But whan the cocke, commune aftrologer,
Gan on his breft to bete and aftir crowe,
And Lucifer, the day'is meffanger,
Gan for to rife, and out his bemis throwe,
And eftward rofe, to him that could it know,
Fortuna Major, than anonc Crefeide
With herte fore to Troilus thus feide:
Mine hert'is life, my truft, al my plefaunce!
That I was borne, alas! that me is wo,
That daie of us mote make difċeveraunce,
For time it is to rife and hennis go,
Orellis I am loft for evirmo.
O Night! alas! why n'ilt thou ore us hove
As long as whan Alcmena laie by Jove?
O blackè Night! as folke in bokis rede,
That ſhapin art by God this worlde to hide
At certain timis with thy derke wede,
That undir that men might in reſt abide,
Wel oughtin beftes to plain and folke to chide,
That thereas daie with labor would us breſt
That thou us flieft and deinift us not reft.
Thou doeft, alas! fo fhortly thine office,
Thou rakle Night, that God makir of kinde
The for thine haft, and thine unkindè vice
So faft aie to our hemifpherè binde,
That nevirmore undir the ground thou winde,
For through thy rakle hying out of Troie
Have I forgone thus haftily my joie.
This Troilus, that with tho wordis felt,
As thought him tho, for pitcous diftreffe
The blodie teris from his hertè pielt,
As he that yet nevir foche hevineffe
Affayid had out of fo grete gladneffe,
Gan therewithall Crefeide his lady dere
In armis ftrain, and faid in this manere :
O cruill Daie! accufer of the joie
That Night and Love hath ftole and faft iwrie,
Accurfid be thy comming into Troie!
For every bowre hath one of thy bright cyen:
Envious Daie! what lift the fo to fplen?
What haft thou loft? why fckift thou this place?
There God thy light fo quenchè for his grace!
Alas! what have thefe lovirs the agilt?
Difpitous Daie! thine be the paine of hell,
For many a lovir haft thou flain and wilt;
Thy poring in woll no where let 'hem dwell:
What! profrift thou thy light here for to fel?
Go, fell it them that fmalè lelis grave;
"We woll the not; us nedith no dare have.
And eke the fonnè Titan gan he chide,
And faid, O föle! well maie men the difpife,
That haft all night the Dauning by thy fide,,
And fuffriſt her fo fone up fro the rife,
For to difefe us lovirs in this wife;
What! hold your bed there thou and thy Morow;
1 bidde God to yeve you both ferowe.
Therwith full fore he fighed, and thus he feide:
My lady bright, and of my wele or wo
The well and rote! o godely mine, Creſeide!
And thall I rife, alas! and fhall I goe?
Now fele I that mine hertè mote a twoj
And how fhould I my life an hourè fave
Sens that with you is all the life I have?
What fhall I doen? for certis I n'ot how,
Ne whan, alas! I thal the timè fe
That in this plite I maie ben eft with you,
And of my life God wote how fhall that be,
Sens that defire right now fo bitith me
That I am dede anon but I retourne :
How should I long, alas! fro you fojourne:
But natheleffe, inine ownè ladie bright!
Yet were it fo that I wift uttirly
That I your humble fervaunt and your knight
Were in your herte ifet fo fermily
As ye in mine, the whiche thing truily
Me levir were than have thefe worldis twain,
Yet fhould I bet endurin all my pain.
}
To that Crefeide anſwerid right anon,
And with a figh fhe faied, O herte dere!
The game ivis fo ferforth now is gon
That first fall Phabus fallin from the ſphere,
And everiche cgle ben the dov'is fere,
And every rocke out of his place afterte,'
Er Troilus go out of Crefeide's herte.
Ye ben fo depe within mine herte ygrave,
That tho I would it turne out of my thought,
As wifely very God my foulè fave,
To dyin'in the pain I couldè nought;
And for the love of God, that us hath wrought,
Let in your brain none othir fantaſie
So crepin, that it caufè me to die.
And that ye me would have as faft in minde
As I have you, that would I you befeche,
And if I wift fothily that to finde,
God might not o point of my joyis eche.
But, hertè mine! withoutin more ſpeche,
Bethe to me true, or ellis were it routhe.
For I am thine, by God and by my trouthe.
Bethe glad forthy, and live in fikirneffe,
Thus faied I ner er this, ne fhall to mo
And if to you it were a grete gladneffe
To tourne ayen fone aftir that ye go,
As faine would I as ye that it were ſo,
As wifely God mine hertè bring to refte,
And him in armis toke, and ofte kefte,
Ayenft his will, fithe it note nedis be,
This Troilus up rofe, and faft him cled,
And in his armis toke his lady fre
An hundrid times, and on his waie him fped,
And with foche wordis as his herte ybled
He feide, Farith wel, my dere herte fwete!
That God us graunte found and fone to mete.
To whiche no worde for forowe fhe anſwerd,
So fore gan his parting her to diſtrain,
And Troilus unto his paleis ferd,
As wo bigon as fhe was, fothe to faine,
So harde him wrong of fharpe defire the pain;
For to ben efte there he was in plefaunce,
That it may nere out of his remembrance,
}
Bok: 111.
$i's
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Retournid to his roiall paleis fone
He foft unto his bedde gan for to fhrinke,
To flepè long, as he was wont to doen;
But all for naught; he maie wel ligge and winke,
But flepe maie there none in his hertè finke,
Thinking how fhe, for whom defire him brende,
A M. folde was worth more than he wende.
And in his thought gan up and doune to wende
Her wordis all, and every continaunce,
And fermily impreffin in his minde
The leftè poincte that to him was plefaunce,
And verily of thilkè remembraunce
Defire al newe him brende, and luft to brede
Gan more than erft, and yet toke he non hede.
Crefeide alfo right in the famè wife
Of Troilus gan in her hertè fhet,
His worthineffe, his luft, his dedis wife,
His gentilneffe, and how fhe with him met,
Thonking Love that he fo well her befet,
Defiring oft to have her hertè dere
In foche a place as fhe durft make him chere.
Pandare a morowe which that commin was
Unto his necè gan her faire to grete,
And faied, All this night fo rained it alas!
That all my drede is that ye, recè fwete!
Have little leifir had to ſlepe and mète :
All night (quod he) hath rain fo do me wake
That fome of us I trowe ther heddis ake.
And nere he came, and faid, How ſtant it now,
This merie morowe? nece, how can ye fare?
Crefeide anſwerde, Nevir the bet for you,
Foxe that ye ben, God yeve your hertè care;
God helpe me fo yc caufid all this fare,
Trowe 1, (quod fhe) for all your wordis white:
O who fo feeth you knowith you full lite!
With that she began her face for to wrie.
With the fhéte, and wore for fhame all redde,
And Pandarus gan undir for to prie,
And fayid, Nece, if that I fhall ben dedde
Have here a fwerde and fmitith of my hedde;
With that his arme all fodainly he thrifte
Undir her necke, and at the laſt her kifte.
I paſſe al that, which chargith naught to ſay:
What! God feryave his deth, and the alfo
Foryave; and with her uncle gan to plaje,
For othir caufe ne was there none than fo:
But of this thing right to th' effect to go,
Whan time ywas home to her houſe ſhe weng
1
And Fandarus hath fully his entent.
Now tournè we ayen to Troilus,
That refteleffe full long a bedde ylaie,
And privily fent aftir Pandarus,
To him to come in all the haft he maie:
Hc come anon, not onis faied he paje,
And Troilus full fobirly he grete,
And doune upon the bedd'is fide him fete.
This Troilus with all th' affectioun
Of frendly love that herte maie devifo
To Pandarus on kneis fill adoune,
And er that he would of the place arife
fe gan him thankin on his beſte wife;
An hundrid time he gan the timè bleſſe
'What he was borne, to bring him fro diftreffe.
}
ê
He faid, O frend of frendes! the aldirbèſt
That evir was, the fothe for to tell,
Thou haft in heven ibrought my foule at reft
Fro Plegethon, the firie flode of hell,
That though I might a thouſande timis fel
Upon a daie my life in thy fervice,
It ne might not a mote in that fuffice.
The fonne, whiche that al the worlde maie fe,
Sawe nevir yet (my life that dare I leie)
So joily, faire, and godely, as is fhe
Whoſe I am all, and fhall till that I deie;
And that I thus am her's, dare I wel feie,
That thankid be the highê worthineffe
Of Love, and eke thy kinde bufineffe.
Thus haft thou me no little thing iyeve;
For why? to the obligid be for aie
My life; and why? for through thine helpe I live,
Or els dedde had I ben many a dale:
And with that worde doun in his bed he laie,
And Pandarus full fobirly him herde
Till all was faid, and than he him anſwerde :
My derè frende! if I have docn for the
In any cafe, God wote it is me lefe,
And am as glad as man maie of it be,
God helpe me fo; but take now not agree
That I fhall faine; beware of this mifchefe,
That there as now thou brought art to thy bliffe
That thou thy felf ne cauſe it not to miffe:
For of Fortun'is fharpe adverfite
The worſte kinde of infortune is this,
A man to have ben in profperite,
And it remembir whan it paffid is:
Thou' art wife inough, forthy doe nat amis;
But not to rakill though thou fitte warme,
For if thou be certain it woll the harme.
Thou art at efe, and hold the well therin
For all fo fure as redde is every fire
As
grete a crafte is to kepe well as winne :
Bridle alruaic thy ſpech and thy defire,
For Worldly joie boldeth not but by a wire,
That previth well, it breft al daie fo ofte
Forthy nede is to werkin with it ſofte.
(Quod Troilus) I hope, and God toforne,
My derè frende! that I fhall fo me bere
That in ny gilt there fhall nothing ben lorne
Ne I n'ill rakle for to grevin her
;
It nedeth not this mattir oft to tere,
For wiftist thou mine hertè wel, Pandare,
God wote of this thou wouldift litil care.
Tho gan he tell him of his glade night,
And whereof firft his hert ydradde and how
And fayid, Frende, as I am a true knight,
And by that faithe I owe to God and your
I had it nevir half fo hot as now,
And evir the more that defire me biteth
To love her beft the more it me deliteth,
I n'ot my felf not wifely what it is,
But now Ifelin a new qualite,
Ye, all anothir than I did er this.
Pandare anfwerid and faied thus, that
That onis maie in hevin bliffe ybe
He feiith othir wayis, dare I faie,
Than thilke time he firft herd of it fai
A a my
{
}
376
Boke III
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
This is a worde for al, that Troilus.
Was nevir ful to fpeke of this matere,
And for to praifin unto Pandarus
The bounte of his bright lady fo dere,
And Pandarus to thanke and makin chere:
This tale was aie fpan newe to beginne
Till that the night departid 'hem atwinne.
Sone aftir this, for that Fortune it would,
Icomin was the blifsful timè fwete
That Troilus was warnid that he fhould
There he was erft Crefeide his lady mete,
For whiche he felte his herte in joiè flete,
And faithfully gan all the goddis hery;
And let fe now if that he can be mery.
And holdin was the forme and al the gife.
Of her comming, and eke of his alſo,
'As it was erft, whiche nedith nought devife;
But plainly to th' effecte right for to go,
In joie and furete Pandarus 'hem two
A bedde ybrought whan that 'hem bothè left,
And thus thei ben in quiete and in reft.
Naught nedith it to you, fithe thei ben met,
To aſke at me if that thei blithe ywere?
For if it erft was well tho was it bet
A thouſande folde, this nedith not enquere ;
Ago was every forow' and every fere,
And bothe iwis thei had, and fo thei wende,
As mochil joie as herte maie comprehende.
This n'is no litil thing of for to fey,
This paffith every wit for to devife,
For eche of 'hem gan othir's luft obey;
Felicite, whiche that thefe clerkis wife
Commendin fo, ne may not here fuffife;
This joye ne maie not writtin be with inke;
This paffith al that any hert maie thinke.
+
But cruil day, fo welaway the founde!
Gan for to' aproche, as thei by fignis knewe,
For whiche 'hem thought thei felin deth'is wounde:
So wo was 'hem that chaungin gan ther hewe,
And day thei gonnin to difpife al newe,
Calling it traitour, envious, and worſe,
And bittirly the day'is light thei corfe.
(Quod Troilus) Alas! now am I ware
That Pyrois, and tho fwifte ftedis thre
Whiche that ydrawin forth the Sunn'is chare
Han gon fome bypathe in difpite of me,
And makith it fo fone day to be,
And for the Sunne him haſtith thus to rife
Ne fhall I nevir don him facrifife.
But nedis daie departin 'hem muſt ſone;
And whan ther fpeche don was and ther chere i
Thei twin anon, as thei were wont to done,”'
And fettin time of meting efte ifere,
And many' a night thei wrought in this manere:
And thus Fortune a time yladde in joie
Crefeide and eke this king'is fon of Troiç.
In fuffifaunce, in bliffe, and in finginges,
al his life to lede;
This Troilus
gan
He fpendith, juftith, and makith feſtinges;
He gevith frely ofte, and chaungith wede;
He helde about him alwaie out of drede '
A worlde of folke, as come him well of kinde, :
The frefhift and the beft that he could finde.
That fuche, a voice was of him and a ſteven
Throughout the world of honour and largeffe
That it up ronge unto the yate of heven;
And as in love he was in fuche gladneffe
That in his hert he demid as I geffe
That there n'is lovir in this world at efe
So wel as he, and thus gan love him plefe.
The godelihede or beaute whiche that Kinde
In any other lady had jſette
Can not the mountenaunce of a gnat unbinde
About his hert of al Crefeid'is nette;
He was fp narowe' imafkid and iknette
That is undon in any manir fide
That n'il nat ben for aught that maie betide.
And by the honde ful oftin he would take
This Findarus, and into gardin lede,
And fuche a feft and fuche a proceffe make
Him of Crefeide, and of her womanhede,
And of her beaute, that withoutin drede
It was an heven his wordis for to here,
And than he wouldè fing in this manere:
Love, that of erthe and fe hath govirnaunce,
Love, that his heftis hath in hevin hie,
Love, that with a right wholſome aliaunce
Halte peple joynid as him lifte 'hem gie,
Love, that yknittith lawe and companie,
And couplis doth in vertue for to dwel,
Binde this accorde that I have tolde and tel.
That that the world with faith, whiche that is
Diverfith fo his ftoundis according,
That elementis that bethe diſcordable
Holdin a bonde perpetually during,
1
[ftable,
That Phoebus mote his rofy day forth bring,
And that the mone hath lordship ore the nightes.
Al this doeth Love; aie heried be his mightes!
That that the fe, that gredy is to flowen;
Conſtrainith to a certaine endè fo
His flodis, that fo fierfly thei ne growen
To drenchin erthe and al for evirmo,
And if that Love aught let his bridil go
Al that now lovith afondir fhould lepê,
And loft were al that Love halt now to hepe.
So would to God, that author is of kinde,
'That with his bonde Love of his vertue lift
To ferchin hertis al, and faft to binde,
That from his bonde no wight the wey out wift
And hertis colde them wold I that he twiſt
To make 'hem love, and that lift him aie rewe
On hertis fore, and kepe hem that ben trewe.
In alle nedis for the toun'is werre
He was, and aie the firft in armis dight,
And certainly, but if that bokis erre,
Save Hector moſt idradde of any wight;
And this encrefe of hardineffe and might
Come him of love, his ladies thanke to win,
That altirid his ſpirite ſo within.
In time of truce on hauking would he ride,
Or ellis hunt the bore, beare, or lioun,
I
The fmalè beftis let he gon befide;
Aud whan that he come riding into the toun
Ful oft his lady from her window doun,
As freſh as faucon comin out of mue,
Ful redy was him godely to falue,
!
Bake III.
377
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
$
And most of love and vertue was his fpeche,
And in difpite had he al wretchidneffe;
And doutleffè no nede was him to beſeche
To honourin-them that had worthineffe,
And efin 'hem that werin in diftreffe;
And glad was he if any wight wel ferde
That lovir was whan he it wift or herde.
For, foth to faine, he loft helde every wight
But if he were 'in Lov'is high ſervice,
I menè folke that aught it ben of right;
And-ore al this fo wel coulde he devife
Of ſentiment, and in fo uncouthe wife
Al his array, that every lovir thought
That al was well what fo he faid or wrought.
*
And though that he become of blode royal,
Him lift of pride at no wight for to chace;
Benigne he was to eche in general,
For which he gate him thanke in every place :
Thus wouldè Love, iheried be his grace!
That pride and ire, envie and avarice,
He gan to flie, and every othir vice.
Thou lady bright, the doughtir of Dione!
Thy blinde and wingid fonne cke, Dan Cupide!
Ye Suftrin Nine eke! that by Helicone
In hil Parnaffo liftin for to' abide,
That ye thus ferre han deinid me to gide
I can no more, but fens that ye wol wende
Ye beried ben for aie withoutin ende!
Through you have I faid fully in my fong
Th' effecte and joie of Troilus fervice,
Al be that there was fome difefe among,
As mine auctour to liftith to deviſe :
My Thirdè Boke now ende I in this wife,
And Troilus in lufte and in quiete
Is with Crefeidè, his owne ladie fwete,
,
}
་
1
!
2+
1
TROILUS & CRESEIDE.
PROCEMIUM LIBRI QUARTI.
Bur all to litill, welaway the while!
Laftith fuche joie, ithonkid be Fortune,
That femith trewift whan fhe woll begile,
And can to folis fo her fonge entune
That the 'hem hent and blent, traitour commune,
And whan a wight is from her whele ithrowe
Than laughith fhe, and makith him the mowe.
From Troilus fhe gan her brightè face
Away to writhe, and toke of him non hede,
And cafte him clene out of his ladie's grace,
And on her whele fhe fet up Diomede,
For which min hert right now ginnith to blede;
And now my pen, alas! with which I write,
Quakith for drede of that I must endite:
For how Crefeidè Troilus forfoke,
Or at the left how that ſhe was unkinde
Mote hennisforth ben matir of my Boke,
As writin folke through which it is in minde :
Alas! that thei fhould evir caufè finde
To fpeke her harme! and if thei on her lie
Iwis them felfe fhould have the vilanie.
O ye Erinnyes! Night'is doughtirs thre,
That endèleffe complaine evir in paine,
Megæra, Alecto, and Tyfiphone,
Thou cruil Mars eke! fathir of Quirine,
This ilke Fourth Boke helpith me for to fine,
So that the loos of love and life ifere
Of Troilus be fully ewid here.
Boke IV.
379
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE
INCIPIT LIBER QUARTUS,
LEGGING in hoft, as I have faide er this,
The Grekis ftrong aboutin Troiè toune,
Bifell that whan that Phoebus fhining is
Upon the brefte of Hercules Lioun
That Hector with many a bold boroun
Cat on a daic with Grekis for to fight,
As he was wont, to greve 'hem what he might.
N'ot I how long or fhort it was bitwene
This purpoſe and that day thei fightin mente;
But on a daie wel armid bright and fhene'
Hector and many' a worthy knight out wente
With fpere in hende, and with bigge bowis bente,
And in the berde, withoutin lengir lette,
Ther fomen in the felde anon 'hem mette.
The longè day with fperis fharpe igrounde,
With arowes, dartis, fwerdes, and macis fel,
Thei fight, and bringin horſe and man to grounde,
And with ther axis out the brainis quel;
But in the laft fhoure, the fothe far to tel,
The folke of Troic 'hem felvin fo miſleden
That with the worfe at night homeward thei fleden.
At whichè day was takin Antenor,
Polydamas, and alfo Meneftes,
Xantippe, Sarpedon, Polyftenor,
Polite, or the Trojan, Dan Ruphes,
And othir leffè folk, as Phebufes,
So that for harme that daie the folke of Troic
Dredin to lefe a grete parte of ther joie.
Of Priamus was yeve, at Grekes requeſt,
A time of truce, and tho thei gonnin trete
Ther prifoners to chaungin moft and left,
And for the furplus yevin fommis grete;
This thing anon was couthe in every ſtrete,
Bothe in th' affege, in toun, and every where,
And with the firft it came to Calchas ere.
When Calchas knew this tretife fhould yholde,
In confiftorie' amonge the Grekis fone,.
He gan in thringe forthe with the lordis olde,
And fet him there as he was wont to done,
And with a chaungid face 'hem bade a bone,
For love of God, to done that reverence
To ſtintin noife, and yeve him audience.
Than faid he thus, Lo! Lordis mine, I was
Troyan, as it is knowin out of drede,
And if that you remembre' I am Calchas,
That aldirfirft yave comfort to your nede,
And tolde wel howe that you fhildin fpede,
For dredèleffe through you ſhal in a ſtoundẹ
Ben Troie jbrent, and betin doun to grounde
And in what forme or in what manir wife
This toun to fhende, and al your luft atcheve
Ye have er this wel herde me you deviſe;
This knowin ye, my Lordis, as I leve,
And for the Grekis werin me ſo leve,
I came my felfe in my propir perſone
To teche in this how you was beft to dones
Having unto my trefour ne my rent
Right no regarde in refpece of your eſe,
Thus al my gode I lefte and to you went,
Wening in this you, Lordis, for to pleſe;
But al that loffe ne doth me no difefe;
I vouchſafe do, as wifely have I joi,
For you to lefe al that I have in Troie,
Save of a doughtir that I lefte, alas!
Sleping at home when out of Troie I ftert:
O fterne, o cruil fathir that I was !
Howe might I have in that fo hard an hert ?
Alas that I ne' had brought her my fhert!
For forów' of which I wol hat live to morow
But if ye, Lordis, rewe upon my forow.
For bicaufe that I fawe no time er now
Her to delivre' I holdin have my pees,
But now or nevir, if that it like you,
I
may her have right fone nowe doubtlees:
O helpe and grace amongis al this prees!
Rewe on this oldè caitife in diſtreſſe,
Sith I through you have all this hevineffe
Ye have now caught and fettrid in prifon
Troyans inowe, and if your willis be
My childe with one may have redemption;
Now for the love of God and of bounte
One of fo fele, alas! fo yefe him me :
What nede were it this prayir for to werne,
Sith ye fhul have both folke and toun as yern.
On peril of my life I ſhal nat lie,
Apollo hath me tolde ful faithfully;
I have eke foundin by aftronomy,
By fort, end eke by augury, trewely,
And dare wel faie the time is faftè by
That fire and flambe on al the toun fhal (prede,
And thus fhal Troic yturne to afhin dede.
For certaine Phoebus and Neptunus bothe,
That makidin the wallis of the toun,
Ben with the folke of Troie alwaie fo wroth
-380
Boks IV.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
That thei wol bring it to confufioun ;
Right in difpite of King Laomedoun,
Bicauſe he n'olde payin 'hem ther hire,
The toun of Troiè fhal ben fet on fire.
Telling his tale alway this oldè grey,
Humble in fpeche and in his loking eke,
The faltè terris from his eyin twey
Ful faft yronnin doun by eithir cheke;
So long he gan of focour 'hem beſeke
That for to hele him of his forowes fore
Thei gave him Antenor withoutin more.
But who was glad inough but Calchas tho?
And of this thing ful fone his nedis leide.
On them that fhouldin for the tretife go,
And them for Antenor ful ofte preide
To bringin home King Thoas and Crefeide;
And whan Priam his fafe conduct fent,
Th' embaffadours to Troie ftreight they went.
The caufe i-tolde of ther comming, the olde
Priam the King ful fone in generall
Gan hereupon his parliment to holde,
Of whiche th' effecte rehercin you I fhall :
Th' embaffadours ben anfwerde for finall
The efchaunge of priſoners and al this nede
'Hem likith wel, and forth in thei procede.
This Troilus was prefent in the place
Whan afkid was for Antenor Crefeide,
For whiche ful fone to chaungin gan his face,
As he that with tho wordis wel nigh deide ;
But nathèleffe he no worde to it feide,
Left men fhould his affection efpie;'
With mann'is hert he gan his forowes drie.
And ful of anguifh and of grefly drede..
Abode what othir lordes would to it fey,
And if that thei would graunt, as God forbede!
Th':afchaunge of her; then thought he thinges
Firſt how to fave her honor, and what wey [twey
He mightè beft th' efchaunge of her withftonde;
Ful faſt he caft how alle this might ftonde.
Love him made allè preft to done her bide,
And rathir dyin than that fhe fhould go,
But Reafon faid him on that othir fide
Withoutin affent of her do nat fo,
Left for thy werke ſhe would be thy foe,
And fain, that through thy meddling is iblowe
Your bothè love ther it was erft not knowe.
For whiche he gan deliberen for the befte,
And though the lordis wouldin that ſhe went
He wouldè fuffir them graunt what 'hem left,
And tel his lady firft what that thei ment;
And when that he had faid him her entent,
Theraftir would he werkin all fo blive
Tho al the world: ayen it would yftrive.
Hector with that full wel the Grekis herde
For Antenor how thei would have Crefeide,
Gan it with tonde, and fobirly anſwerde;
Sirs, fhe ne is no prifoner (he ſeide;)
I n'ot en you who that this chargè leide,
But on my parte yc maie eftfones 'hem tell
We ufi n heré nó women for to fell.
The noife of peple upftert then atones
As brimme as blafe of ftrawe ifet on fire,
For infortune it wouldè for the nones
Thei fhouldin ther confufion defire.
Hector, (quod thei) what goft may you enſpire
This woman thus to fhilde, and done us lefe
Dan Antenor? a wrong waie now ye chefe
That is fo wife, and eke fo bolde baroun,
And we have nede of folke, as men may fe;
He is one of the gretift of this toun:
O Hector! lette fuche thy fantafies be;
O King Priam! (quod thei) thus feggè we,
That all our voice is to forgone Crefeide,
And to delivir Antenor thei preide.
O Juvenal, Lorde! trewe is thy fentence,
That litil wenin folke what is to yerne,
That thei ne findin' in ther defire offence,
For cloude of errour ne lette 'hem difcerne
What beſt is; and lo! here enfample' as yerne ţ
Thefe folke defirin now deliviraunce
Of Antenor, that brought 'hem to miſchaunce;
For he was aftir traitour to the toune
Of Troy, alas! thei quitte him out to rathe
O nicè world, lo thy difcrecion!
Crefeide, which that nevir did 'hem fcathe,
Shal nowe no lengir in her bliffè bathe,
But Antenor he fhal come home to toune,
And the fhal out: thus faid both heere and houne.
For which delibered was by parliment
For Antenor to yeldin out Crefeide,
And it pronouncid by the Prefident,
Although that Hector nay ful oftè praide;
And finally, what wight that it withfaide
It was for naught; it muft yben and should,
For fubftaunce of the parliment it would.
Departid out o' th' parliment echone,
This Troilus, withoutin wordis mo,
Unto his chambre fpedde him faſt alone,
But if it were a man of his or two,
The whiche he bad out faftè for to go,
Bicauſe that he would Дlepin, as he faide,
And hastily upon his bedde him laide.
And as in wintir levis ben birafte..
Eche aftir othir til the trees be bare,
So that there n'is but barke and braunche ilafte,
Lithe Troilus biraft of eche welfare,
Iboundin in the blackè barke of care,
Difpofid wode out of his witte to breide,
So fore him fate the chaunging of Crefeide.
He rift him up and every dore he fhette
And window eke, and tho this wofull man
Upon his bedd'is fide adoune him fette,
Ful like a ded image, both pale and wan,
And in his breft the hepid wo began
Out bruſt, and he to workin in this wife,
In his wodeneffe, as I fhal you devife.
Right as the wildè bulle beginnith fpring |
Now here now there, idartid to the herte,
And of his deth rorith in complaining,
Right fo gan he about the chambre fterte,
Smiting his breft aie with his fiftis fmerte;
His hed to the' wall, his body to the grounde,
Ful ofte he fwapte, him felvin to confounde.
His eyin two for pite of his herte
Out ftremidin as fwifte as wellis twey;
The highè fobbis of his forowes fmert
•
}
Boke İva
38F
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
}
His fpeche him refte; unnethis might he ſey
O Deth, alas! why n'ilt thou do me dey?
Acurfid be that day which that Nature
Yfhope me to ben a liv'is creture!
But aftir, whan the fury' and al the rage
Whiche that his hertè twift and faftè threſt
By length of time ſomewhat gan aſwage,
Upon his bedde he laide him doun to reſt;
But tho begon his teres more out to breſt,
That wondir is the body maie fuffife
To halfe this wo which that I you deviſe.
Than faide he thus; Fortune, alas the while!
What have I done? what have I the agilt?
How mightift thou for routhe thus me begile?
Is there no grace? and fhal I thus be ſpilt?
Shal thus Crefeide away for that thou wilt?
Alas! how mightift thou in thine hert finde
To ben to me thus cruil and unkinde?
Have 1 the nat honourid al my live,
As thou well woteft, above the goddis all?
Why wilt thou then of this joie me deprive ?
O Troilus! what may men now the call
But wretche of wretchis, out of honour fal
Into mife'ry? in whiche I wol bewaile
Crefeide, alas! til that the brethe me faile.
Alas, Fortune! if that my life in joie
Difple fid had unto thy foule envie,
Why ne' haddift thou my fathir King of Troy
Birafte the life, or done my brethrin die,
Or flaine my felfe, that thus complaine and crie?
I combre world that maie of nothing ſerve,
But evir die and never fully fterve.
If that Crefeide alone werin me lafte
Naught raught I whidir thou woldift me ftere,
And her, alas! than haft thou me birafte :
But evirmore, lo! this is thy manere,
To reve a wight that mofte is to him dere,
To preve in that thy gierfull violence;
Thus am I loft, there helpith no defence.
O very Lorde o Love, ò god! alas!
That knowift beft min hert and al my thought,
What ſhal my foroufull life done in this caas
If I forgo that I fo dere have bought?
Sens ye Crefcide and me have fully brought
Into your grace, and both our hertis feled,
How maie ye fuffre', alas! it be repeled?
What I may done I fhal, while I may dure
On live, in turment and in cruill paine;
This infortune and this difavinture
Alone as I was borne I wol complaine,
Ne nevir wol I fene it fhine or raine,
But ende I wol as Edippe in derkneſſe
My wofull life, and dying in diſtreſſe.
O wery ghoft that errift to and fro,
Why 'n'ilt thou flien out of the wofulleſt
Body that evir might on grounde ygo?
O foulè lurking in this woful nefte,
Flee forth anon, and do mine herte to brefte,
And folowe Crefeide thy lady dere;
Thy right place is no lengir to ben here.
O woful eyin two! fens your difporte
Was al to fene Crefeid's eyin bright,
What fhal ye done, but for my diſcomforte
Stondin for naught and wepin out your fight, 1
Sens ſhe is queint that wont was you to light?
In veine from this forth have I eyin twey
Iformid, fens your vertue is awey,
O my Crefeide! o lady fovèraine!
Of this forowfull foulè that thus crieth
Who fhall now yevin comfort to thy paine?
Alas! no wight; but whan mine hert ydieth
My ſpirite, whiche that fo unto you hieth,
Receve in gre, for that fhall aie you ſerve;
Forthy no force is tho the body fterve.
O ye lovirs! that high upon the whele
Ben fette of Fortune, in gode avinture
God lene that ye aie findin love of ftele,
And longè mote your life in joy endure,
But when ye comin by my fepulture
Remembrith that your felowe reftith there,
For I lovid eke, though I unworthy were.
O olde unwholfome and miflivid man,
Calchas I mene! alas! what eilid the
To ben a Greke fens thou art borne Trojan?
O Calchas! whiche that wolt my banè be,
In curfid time was thou borne for me;
As wouldè bliſsfull Jovè for his joye
That I the had where that I would in Troie !
A thouſande fighis hottir than the glede
Out of his breft eche aftir othir wente,
Medlid with plaintis newe, his wo to fede,
For whiche his woful teris nevir ftente;
And, fhortly, fo his forowes him to rente,
He woxe fo mate that ne joy nor penaunce
He felith none, but lyith in a traunce.
Pandarus, whiche that in the parliment
Had herde what every lord and burgcis ſeid,
And how ful grauntid was by one affent
For Antenor to yeldin out Crefeide,
Gan wel nigh wode out of his wit to breide,
So that for wo he ne wift what he mente,
But in a rage to Troilus he wente.
A certaine knight that for the time kepte
The chambre dore undid it him anone,
And Pandarus, that ful tendirly wepte,
Into the derke chambre as ftil as ftone
Towarde the bedde gan foftly for to gone,
So confufe that he ne wift what to fay;
For very wo his witte was nigh away.
And with his chere and loking al to torne
For wo of this, and with his armis folden,
He ftode this woful Troilus beforne,
And on his pitous face he gan beholden;
But Lord! fo oftin gan his hert to colden,
Seying his frende in WO, whofe hevineffe
His hertè flough, as thought him, for diftreffe.
This woful wight, this Troilus, that felte
His frende Pandare icomin him to fe,
Gan as the fnow ayenft the funne to melte,
For whiche this woful Pandare of pite
Gan for to wepe as tendirly as he;
And ſpechèleffe thus ben theſe ilkè twey,
That neithir might for forow o worde fey.
But at the laft this wofull Troilus,
Nigh did for fmert, gan breftin out to rore,
And with a forowful noife he faid thus,
383
Boke IR
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Amonges his fobbis and his fighis fore;
Lo! Pandare, I am ded, withoutin more;
Haſt thou nat herde at parliment, he feide,
For Antenor how lofte is my Crefeide?
This Pandarus, ful ded and pale of hewe,
Ful pitously answerid, and faide Yes,
As wifely were it falfe as it is trewe
That I have herde, and wote all how it is!
O mercy, God! who would have trowid this?
Who would have wende that in fo lite a throw
Fortune our joye would havin ovirthrow?
For o in this world there is no creture,
As to my dome, that evir fawe ruine
Straungir then this through cafe or avinture;
But who may al efchue or al devine?
Suche is this world. Forthy I thus define,
Ne truftith no wight to finde in Fortune
Ale propertie; her yeftis ben commune.
But tel me this, why thou art now fo mad;
To forowen thus why lifte thou in this wife,
Sens thy defire al wholly haft thou had,
So that by right it ought inough fuffice?
But I, that nevir felte in my ſervice
A frendly chere or loking of an eyc,
Let me thus wepe and wailin til I dye.
And ore al this, as thou wel woft thy felve,
This toune is ful of ladies al aboute,
And to my dome fairir than fuchè twelve
As er fhe was fhall I finde in a route,
Ye, one or twey, withoutin any doute:
Forthy be glade, mine ownè derè brother!
If the be loft we fhal recovre' an other.
What! God forbid alway that eche plefaunce
In o thing were, and in non othir wight;
If one can finge, anothir can wel daunce,
If this be godely fhe is glad and light,
And this is faire and that can gode aright;
Eche for his vertue holdin is full dere
Bothe heroner and faucon for rivere:
And eke, as writ Zanfis, that was full wife,
The newe love out chafith oft the old,
And upon newe cafe lyith newe avife;
Thinke eke thy felf to favin thou art hold;
Soche fire by proceffe fhall of kindè cold,
For fens it is but cafuell plefaunce
Some cafe fhal put it out of remembfaunce.
For all fo fure as daie cometh aftir night
The newe love, labour, or othir wo,
Orellis feldè feing of a wight,
Doen old affections all ovir go;
And for thy part thou shalt have one of tho
To abredge with thy bittir painis finerte;
Abfence of her ſhall drive her out of herte.
Thefe wordis faied, he for the nonis all
To helpe his frende, left he for forowe deide,
For doubtèleffe to doen his wo to fall
He ne raught nat what unthrift that he feide;
But Troilus, that nigh for forowe deide,
Toke little hede of all that ere he ment;
One ere it herd, at the' othir out it went.
But at the laſt he anſwerde, and faid, Frend,
This lechcraft, or yhelid thus to be,
Were well fitting if that I were a fend,
To traifin her that true is unto me;
I praie God let this counfail nevir the,
But doe me rathir fterve anon right here
Er, I thus doen as thou me wouldift lere:
She that I ferve iwis, what fo thou feiè,
To whom mine herte enhabite is by right,
Shall have me wholly her's till that I deie;
For, Pandarus, fens I have trouth her hight,
I woll nat ben untrue for any wight,
But as her man I woll aie live and fterve,
And nevir wolle non othir creture ferve.
And there thou ſaieft thou ſhalt as faire yfind
As fhe, let be; make no compariſon
To a crcture iformid here by Kinde;
O leve, Pandarus! thy conclufion;
I woll nat ben of thine opinion
Touching all this, for whiche I the befeche
So holde thy pece; thou flaeft me with thy fpeche.
Thou biddift me that I fhould love another
All freſhly newe, and let Crefcidě go;
It lithe nat in my powir, levè brother,
And though I might yet would I nat doe fo:
But canft thou playin raket to and fro,
Nettle' in Docke out, now this now that, Pandare?
Now foule fall her for thy wo that care!
Thou farift eke by me, thou Pandarus,
As he that whan a wight is wo bigon
He cometh to him apace and faith right thus,
Thinke not on Imert and thou fhalt felè none.
Thou maieft me firſt tranfmewin in a flone,
And reve me of my paffionis all,
Or thou fo lightly do my wo to fall.
The deth maie well out of my breft depart
The life, fo long maie laſt this forowe mine,
But fro my foule fhall Crefeid'is dart
Out nevirmore, but doune with Proferpine,
Whan I am dedde, I woll go won in pine,
And there I woll eternally complain
My wo; and how that twinnid be we twain.
Thou haft here made an argument full fine,
How that it fhouldin laffè pain ybe
Crefeide to forgon, for fhe was mine,
And lived in efe and in felicite :
Why gabbift thou, that faidift erſt to me
That him is wors that is fro wele ithrowe
Than he had erft none of that wele iknowe?
But tel me now, fens that the thinketh fo light
To chaungin fo in love aie to and fro,
Why haft thou nat doen bufily thy might
To chaungin her that doeth the al thy wo?
Why n'ilt thou let her fro thine herte go?
Why n'ilt thou love anothir lady fwete,
That maie thine hertè fettin in quiete?
If thou haſt had in love aie yet miſchaunc
And canft it not out of thine herté drive,
I that have lived in luft and in plefaunce
With her, as moche as any wight on live,
How fhould I that foryet, and that ſo blive?
O! where haft thou ben hid fo long in mewe
That canft fo well and formeliche argewe?
Naie, Pandarus, naught worth is all thy rede,
But doutclefs for ought that may befall,
Withoutin wordis mo, I woll ben dede
Loke IF.
383
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
!
O Deth that endir art of forowes all,
Come now, fens I fo oft aftir the call,
For fely is that deth, foth for to fain,
That oft iclepid cometh and endith pain.
Well wote I, while my life was in quiete,
Er thou me flue I would have yevin hire,
But now thy comming is to me fa ſwete
That in this worlde I nothing ſo defire :
O Deth! fens with this forowe I'am afire,
Thou eithir doe me' anon in teris drenche
Or with thy coldè ftroke mine hertè quenche.
Sens that thou flaeft fo fele in fondry wife
Ayenſt ther will, unprayid, daie and night,
Doe me at my requeftè this fervice,
Deliver now the worlde, ſo doeſt thou right,
Of me, that am the forowfullift wight
That evir was, for time is that I fterve
Sens in this world of right naught do I ferve.
This 'l'roilus in teris gan diftill,
As licour out of a limbeck full faſt,
And Pandarus gan holde his tongè fill,
And to the ground his eyin doune he caſt,
But nathelele thus thought he at the laſt;
What! parde rathir than my felowe deie
Yet fhall I fomwhat more unto him feie.
And fayid, Frend, fens thou haft foche diftrefic,
And fens the lift mine argumentis blame,
Why n'ilt thou thy felvin helpe doen redreffe,
And with thy manhode lettin all this game?
Go ravifhe her, ne canft thou not for fhame?
And cithir let her out of tounè fare
Or hold her ſtill, and leve thy nicè fare.
Art thou in Troic and haft non hardiment
To take a woman whiche that lovith the,
And would her felvin ben of thine affent ?
Now is nat this a nicè vanite?
Rife up anon and let this weping be,
And kith thou art a man, for in this hour
I woll ben dedde or fhe fhall bein our.
To this anfwerde him Troilus full foft,
And faied, Iwis, my leve brothir dere!
All this have I my felf yet thought full oft,
And more thingis than thou deviſiſt here,
But why this thing is laft thou fhalt well here,
And whan thou haft me yevin audience
Theraftir maieft thou tell all thy fentence.
Firft, fin thou woft this taun hath all this werre
For ravishing of women fo by might,
It ſhould not ben yfuffrid me to erre,
As it ftont now, ne doen fo grete unright;
I ſhould have alfo blame of every wight
My fathir's graunt if that I fo withitode,
Sens fhe is chaungid for the toun'is gade.
I have eke thought, fo it were her affent,
To aſke her of my fathir of his grace,
Than thinke I this were her accufèment,
Sens well I wot I maie her not purchacer
For fens my fathir in fo high a place
As parliment hath her efchaunge enfeled
He n'ill for me his lettir be repeled.
Yet drede I mofte her herte to perturbe.
With violence, if I doe foche a game,
For if would it opinly diſturbe
It muſt be diſclaundre unto her name,
And me were levir die than her diffame,
As n'olde God, but if that I ſhould have
Her honour levir than my life to fave.
Thus am I loft, for aught that I cau fe,
For certain is that fith I am her knight
I muft her honour levir have than me
In every cafe, as lovir ought of right:
Thus am I with defire and refon twight,
Defire for to diftourbin her me redeth,
And refon n'ill not, fo mine hertè dredeth.
Thus weping, that he ne could nevir cefe,
He faid, Alas! how fhall I wretchè fare?
For well fele I alwaie my love encrefe,
And hope is laffe and laffe alway, Pandare;
Encrefin eke the caufis of my care;
So welawaie! why n'ill mine hertè breſt?
For why? in love there is but little reft.
Pandare anſwerid, Frend, thou maieft for he
Doen as the lift, but had I it fo hote,
And thine eftate, the thould ygo with me;
Tho all this toun cried on this thing by note,
I n'olde fet all that noife at a grote,
For whan men have well cried than woll thei roun
Eke wondir laft but ix daies nere in toun.
Devinith not in refon aie fo depe,
Ne curtifly, but helpe thy felf anon;
Bet is that othir than thy felvin wepe,
And namily fens ye two ben all one :
Rife up, for by mine bedde fhe fhall not gone,
And rathir ben in blame a little found
Than fterve here as a gnat withoutin wound
It is no fhame unto you ne no vice
Her to witholdin that the lovith mofte:
Paravinture the might holde the for nice
To lette her go thus to the Grekis hofte:
Thinke che Fortune, as well thy felvin wofte,
Helpith the hardie man to his empriſe,
And weivith wretchis for ther cowardife.
And though thy lady would alite her greve
Thou shalt thy felf thy pece hereaftir make;
But as to me certain I can not leve
That she would it as now for evill take,
Why shoulde than for fere thine hertè quake?
Thinke how that Paris hath, that is thy brother,
A love, and why fhal thou not have another 2
And, Troilus, a thing I dare the fwere,
That if Crefeidè, whiche that is thy lefe,
Now lovith the as well as thou doeft here,
God helpe me fo, fhe n'ill not take agrefe
Though thou do bote anon in this mifchefe;.
And if the wilnith fro the for to palle
Than is fhe falfe, fo love her well the laffe.
Forthy take hert, and thinke right as a knight
Through love is brokin al daie every lawe;
Kith now fomwhat thy corage and thy might;
Have mercie on thy felf; for any awe
Let not this wretchid wo thine hert ygnawe,
But manly fet the worlde an fixe and feven,
And if thou die a martyr go to heven.
I woll my felf ben with the at this dede,
Though I and all my kin upon a ſtound
Should in a ftrete as doggis liggin dede
*
384
Böke IV.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Through-girt with many a wide blodie wound;
In every cafe I woll a frend be found;
And if the lifte here ftervin as a wretche
Adieu, the devill fpede him that retche!
This Troilus gan with tho wordis quicke,
And fayid, Frend, graunt mercie! I affent,
But certainly thou maieft nàt ſo me pricke,
Ne painè none ne maie me fo tourment,
That for no cafe, it is not mine entent,
At fhort wordis, though that I dyin fhould,
To savifh her but if her felf it would.
Why, fo mene I (quod Pandare) al this day;
But tell me than, haft thou her well affaied
'That foroweft thus? and he anſwerde him Naie:
Whereof art thou (quod Pandare) than diſmaied,
That n'ofte not that the wol ben il apaied
To ravifhe her, fens thou haft not ben there,
But if that Jove the tolde it in thine ere?
Forthy rife up, as naught ne were, anon,
And washe thy face, and to the king thou wend,
Or he maie wondrin whidir thou art gon;
Thou muſt with wifedome him and othir blend,
Or upon cafe he maie aftir the fend
Or thou be ware: and, fhortly, brothir dere!
Be glad, and let me werke in this mattere;
For I fhall fhape it fo that fikirly
Thou shalt this night fomtime in fome manere
Come fpekin with thy ladie privily,
And by her wordis, eke as by her chere;
Thou fhalt full fone aperceve and well here
Of her entent, and in this cafe the beft;
And fare now well, for in this poinct 1 reft.
The ſwiftè Fame, whiche that fals thingis
Equall reportith like the thingis true,
Was throughout Troie ifled with preft wingis
Fro man to man, and made his tale all newe,
How Calchas doughtir with her brightè hewe
At parliment, withoutin wordis more,
Igrauntid was in chaunge of Antenore.
The whichè tale anon right as Crefeide
Had herd, fhe, whiche that of her fathir rought
(As in this caſe) right naught, ne whan he deide,
Full bufily to Jupiter befought
Yeve him mifchauncè that this tretis brought :
But, fhortly, left theſe talis fothè were
She durft at no wight afkin it for fere.
As fhe that had her hert and all her minde
On Troilus ifet fo wondir faſt
That all this world ne might her love unbind,
Ne Troilus out of her hertè caſt,
She would ben his while that her life maie laft;
And the thus brennith bothe in love and drede
So that she ne wift what was beſt to rede.
But as men fene in toune and all about,
That women ufe ther frendis to vifite,
So to Crefcide of women came a rout
For pitous joie, and wendin her delite,
And with ther talis, dere inough a mite,
Theſe women, whiche that in the cite dwell,
Thei fet 'hem doune, and faied as I fhall tell.
(Quod first that one) I am glad truily
Bicauſe of you, that ſhall your fathir fe.
Anothir faied, Iwis ſo am not I,
For all to little hath fhe with us be:
(Quod tho the thirde) I hope iwis that ſhe
Shall bringin us the pece on every fide,
That whan the goth Almightie God her gide!
Tho wordis and tho womannifhe thingis
She herd 'hem right as though the thennis were,
For God it wote her herte on othir thing is;
Although the body fat emong 'hem there
Her advertence is alwaie ellis where ;
For Troilus full faft her foulè fought;
Withoutin worde on him alwaie fhe thought.
Thefe women that thus wendin her to plefe
Aboutin naught gon all ther talis ſpende;
Soche vanite ne can doen her none efe,
As fhe that all this menè while brende
Of othir paffion than thei ywende,
So that she felte almofte her hertè die
For wo, and werie of that companie.
For whichè might fhe no lengir reſtrain
Her teris, thei ganin fo up to well,
That gavin fignis of her bittir pain
In whiche her ſpirite was and muft ydwell,
Remembring her from heven unto which hel
She fallin was fens fhe forgo the fight
Of Troilus, and forowfully fhe fight.
And thilkè folis fitting her about
Wendin that the had wept and fighid fore,
Bicaufe that fhe fhouldin out of the rout
Departin, and nevir plaie with 'hem more;
And thei that haddin knowin her of yorc
Se her fo wepe, and thought it was kindneffe,
And eche of 'hèm wept eke for her diftreffe.
And bufilie thei gonnin her comforte
On thing God wot on which the little thought,
And with ther talis wendin her difporte,
And to be glad thei oftin her beſought ;
But foche an efe therwith thei in her wrought
Right as a man is efid for to fele
For ache of hedde to clawen' hint on his hele.
But aftir all this nicè vanite
Thei toke ther leve, and home thei wentin all;
Crefeidè, full of forowful pite,
Into her chambre' up went out of the hall,
And on her bedde fhe gan for dedde to fall,
In purpoſe nevir thennis for to riſe,
And thus fhe wrought, as I fhall you devife.
Her owndid heer, that fonniſhe was of hewe,
She rent, and eke her fingirs long and fmale
She wrong ful oft, and bade God on her rue,
And with the death to doe bote on her bale ;
Her hewè, whilom bright, that tho was pale,
Bare witnelle of her wo and her conftreint,
And thus fhe fpake, fobbing in her compleint
Alas! (quod fhe) out of this regioun
I, wofull wretche and infortunid wight,
And borne in curfid conftellacioun,
Mote gon, and thus departin fro my knight!
Wo worthe, alas! that ilkè day'is light
On which I fawe him firft with cyin twain
That caufith me and I him all this pain!
Therwith the teris from her eyin two
Doune fell as fhowris full in Aprill fwithe,
Her white breft the bet, and for the wo
7
3
Bike IV.
385
TROILUS AND
CRESEIDE.
1
1
Aftir the deth the cried a thouſande fithe,
Sens he that wont her wo was for to lith
She mote forgon, for whiche difavinture
She helde her felfin a forloft creture.
She faied, How, fhall he doen and I alſo
How should I live that I from him twin!
O derè herte eke, that I love ſo,
Who fhall that forowe flaen that ye ben in!
O Calchas, fathir! thine he all this fin!
O mothir mine, that clepid were Argive,
Wo worth that daie that thou me bare on live!
o what fine fhould I live and forowen thus?
How fhould a fifhe withoutin watir dure
What is Crefeide worth from Troilus?
How ſhould a plant or' any othir creture
Livin withoute his kindly noriture?
For whiche full oft a byword here I feie,
That ertheleſs mote grene medis fone deye.
I fhall doen thus, fens neither fwerd ne dart
Dare I none handle for the cruilte,
That ilke daie that I fro you depart,
Il forowe of that n'ill nat my bane be,
Than fhall no mete ne drinke ycome in me
Till I my foule out of my breft unſheth,
And this my felvin woll I doen to deth.
And, Troilus, my clothis everichone
*
Shull blacke ben, in tokining, herte fwete!
That I am as out of this worlde agone,
That wont ywas you to fet in quiete,
And of mine ordir aie, till deth me mete,
The obfervaunce evir in your abfence
Shall forowe ben, complaint and abftinence.
Mine herte, and eke the wofull ghoſt therein,
Biqueth I with your ſpirite to complain
Eternally, for thei fhall nevir twin;
For though in yerth ytwinnid be we twain,
Yet in the felde of pite, out of pain,
That hight Elyfium, we fhall ben yfere,
As Orpheus and Eurydice his fere.
Thus, hertè mine! for Antenor, alas!
I fone ſhall be ychaungid, as I wene;
But how fhull ye doen in this wofull càas?
How fhall your tendir hertè thus fuftein?
But, hertè mine! foryet this forowe, and tene,
And me alfo; for, fothly for to feie,
So
ye well fare 1 retche not for to deie.
How might it evir redde ben or ifong
The plaintis that ſhe made in her diſtreffe?
I n'ot, but as for me, my little tong,
If I diſcrivin would her hevineffe,
it should ymake her forowe femè leffe
Than that it was, and childishly deface
Her hie complaint, and therfore I it pace.
Pandarus, whiche that feht from Troilus
Was to Crefeide, as ye have herd devife,
That for the beft it was accordid thus,
And he full glad to doen him that fervice
Unto Crefeide in a full fecrete wife,
There as the laie in tourment and in rage,
Came her to tell all wholly his meffage;
And fonde that the her felvin gan to trete
Full pitoufly, for with her faltè teres
Her breft and face ibathid was full wete,
VOL. I.
Her mightie treffis of her fonniſhe heres
Unbroidin hangin all about her eres,
Whiche yavin him very fignall mattire
Of deth, whiche that her nertè gan defire.
Whan fhe him fawe fhe gan for forowe' anon
Her tery face atwixt her armis hide,
For whiche this Pandare is ſo wo bigon
That in the hous he might unneth abide,
As he that felt forowe on every fide,
For if Crefeide had erft complainid fore
Tho gan fhe plain a thouſande timis more,
And in her afpre plaintè thus fhe feide;
Pandare, my eme, of joyis mo than two
Was caufe, caufing firſt to me Crefeide,
That now tranfmutid bin in cruil wo,
Wher' fhall I faie to you welcome or no,
That aldirfirſt me brought unto fervide
Of love, alas! that cndith in foche wife?
Endith than love in wo? ye, or men lieth,
And every worldly bliffe, as thinkith me;
The ende of bliffe aie forowe occupieth;
And who fo trowith not that it ſo be
Let him upon me wofull wretchè fe,
That my felf hate, and aie my birthè curſe,
Feling alwaie fro wicke I go to worſe.
Whofo me feeth feeth forowe all atonis,
Paine, turment, wo, and plaint, and eke diftrefs
Out of my wofuli bodie harme there none is,
As langour, anguifhe, cruill bittirneſſe,
Annoie, fmarte, drede, furie, and eke fikneſſe ♦
I trowe iwis from hevin teris rain
For pite of my afpre' and cruill pain.
O thou my fuftir! full of diſcomfort,
(Quod Pandarus) what thinkift thou to doe?
Why ne' haft thou to thy felvin fome refport?
Why wilt thou thus thy felf, alas! fordo?
Leve all this werke, and take now hede to
That I fhall fain, and herken' of gode entent
This that by me thy Troilus the fent.
Tournid her tho Crefeide a wo making
So grete, that it a deth was for to fe :
Alas! (quod fhe) what wordis maie ye bring,
What woll my dere herte ſendin unto me,
Whiche that I dredè nevir more to fe?
Woll he have plaint or teris ere I wende ?
I have inough if he theraftir fende.
She was right foche to fene in her viſage
As is that wight that men on bere ybinde,
Her face, like of paradis the image
Was all ichaungid in anothir kinde;
The plaie, the laughtir, men wer wont to find
In her, and eke her joyis evrichone,
Ben fledde; and thus lieth Crefeidè alone.
About her eyin two a purpre ring
Bitrent, in fothfaft tokening of her pain,
That to behold it was a dedly thing,
For whiche Pandarus ne might nat reſtrain
The teris from his eyin for to rain;
But nath leffe as he beft might he feide
From Troilus theſe wordis to Crefeide:
Lo! nece, I trowe well ye han herd all how
The King, with othir lordis, for the beſt
Hath made efchaunge of Antenor and you,
B b
386
Bake IF.
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
}
That caufe is of this forowe and unreft
But how this cafe doth Troilus moleft
This maie none yerthly mann'is tong yfaie;
For very wo his wit is all awaie
For whiche we have fo forowed he and I,
That into little it had bothę us flawe,
But through my counfaile this daie, finally,
He fomwhat hath fro weping him withdrawe,
And femith me that he defirith fawe
With you to ben all night, for to deviſe
Remedie' of this, if there were any wife.
This, fhort and plain, th' effect of my meſſage,
As ferforthe as any wit can comprehende,
For ye that ben of tourment in foche rage
Maie to no long prologue as now entende,
And hereupon ye maie anfwere him fende ;
And for the love of God, my necè dere!
So leve this wo or I'roilus be here.
Grete is my wo, (quod fhe) and fighid fore,
As he that felith dedly fharpe diftreffe,
But yet to me his forowe' is mokill more,
That love him bet than he himſelf I geffe.
Alas for me hath he foche hevineffe?
Can he for me fo pitoufly complain ?
Iwis this forowe doublith all my pain.
Grevous to me, God wot, it is tọ twin,
(Quod fhe) but yet it hardir is to me
To fene that forowe which that he is in,
For well wot I it woll my banè be,
And die I woll in certain tho (quod fhe :)
But bid him come er Deth that thus me threteth
Drive out that ghoft which in min hert ybeteth.
Thefe wordis faied, fhe on her armis two
Fill gruffe, and gan to wepin pitously.
(Quod Pandarus) Alas! why doe ye fo,
Sens ye well wote the time is faftè by
That he fhall come? arife up haftily,
"That he you nat biwopin thus yfinde,
But ye wol have him wode out of his minde:
ус
For wift he that ye farde in this manere
He would himſelfin flea; and if I wende
To have this fare he ſhould not comin here
For all the gode that Priam maie diſpende,
For to what fine he would anon pretende,
'That know I well; and forthy yet 1 feie
So leve this forowe', or plainly, he woll deie:
And fhapith you his forowe for to' abredge
And nat encrefin, lefè necè fwete!
Bethe rathir to him caufe of plat than edge,
And with fome wifedom ye his forowes bete:
What helpith it to wepin full a ftrete,
Or though ye bothe in falte teris dreint?
Bet is a time of cure aie than of pleint.
I menè thus, whan I him hithir bring,
Sens
ус
be wife, and bothe of one affent,
So fhapith how to diftourbe your going,
Or come ayen fone aftir ye he went :
Women ben wife in fhort avifèment;
And let fene how your wit fhall now availc,
And what that I maie help it fhall nat faile.
Go, (quod Creféide) and, uncle, truily
I fhall doen all my might me to reſtrain
From weping in his fight, and buſily
Him for to glad I fhall doen all my pain,
And in my hertè fekin every vain :
If to this fore there maie ben foundin falve
It fhall not lacke certaine on mine behalve.
Goth Pandarus, and Troilus he fought,
Till in a temple' he found him all alone,
As he that of his life no lengir rought,
But to the pitous goddis everichone
Full tendirly he praied and made his mone,
To doen him fone out of this worlde to pace,
For wel he thought there was non othir grace.
And, fhortly, all the fothe for to feie,
He was fo fallin in difpaire that daie
That uttirly he fhope him for to deic;
For right thus was his argument alwaie,
He fared he n'as but lornè, welawsic!
For all that cometh cometh by neceffite,
Thus to ben lorne it is my deftine :
For certainly this wote I well, he faide
That forefight of the divine purveiaunce
Had fene alwaie me to forgon Crefeide,
Sens God feeth every thing out of doutaunce,
And them difpofith through his ordinaunce
In his meritis fothly for to be
As thei fhull comin by predeftine.
1
But nathèleffe, alas! whom fhall I leve?
For there ben gretè clerkis many one
That deſtine through argumentis preve,
And fome yfain that nedely there is none,
But that fre choice is yeven' us everichone.
O welawaie! fo fligh arne clerkis old
That I n'ot whofe opinion I maie hold.
For fome men fain that God feeth al biforne,
Ne God maie nat decevid ben parde;
Than mote it fallin, though men had it fworne,
That purveiaunce hath fene beforne to be;
Wherefore I faie that from eterne if he
Hath wift beforn our thought cke as our dede
We have no fre choice, as theſe clerkis rede.
For othir thought nor othir dede alfo
Might nevir ben but foche as purveiaunce,
Whiche maie not ben difcevid nevir mo,
Hath feled biforne withoutin ignoraunce;
For if there might yben a variaunce
To writhin out fro Godd'is purveying
There n'ere no prefcience of, thing comming;
But it were rathir an opinion
Uncertain, and no ftedfaſt forefeing;
And certis that were an abufion
That God fhould have no perfect clere weting
More than we men, that have doubtous wening:
But foche an errour upon God to geffe
Were falfe and foule, and wickid curfideneffe.
Eke this is an opinion of fome
That have ther top ful high and fmothe ifhore,
Thei fain right thus, that thing is at to come
For that the prefcience hath fene before
That it fhall come, but thei fain that therfore
That it fhal come, therfore the purvciaunce
Wote it beforne withoutin ignoraunce.
And in this manir this neceffite
Retournith in his place contrary' againe,
For nedefully behovith it nat be
1
.
Boke IV.
387
TROILUS AND CRESEID E.
So might I wene that thingis all and fome
That thilke thin gis fallin in certaine
That ben purveyed, but nedefully', as thei faine, That whilom ben bifall and ovircome
Behovith it that thingis whith that fall
Than thei in certaine ben purveyid all :
I mene as though I laboured me in this
Ben cauſe of thilkè foveraine purveiaunce
That forwote al withoutin ignoraunce.
And ore al this yet ſay I more therto,
To enquire which thing cauſe of which thing be, That right as whan I wote there is a thing
As whethir that the prefcience of God is
The certaine caufe of the neceffite
Of thingis that to comin be parde,
Or if neceffite of thing coming
Be the caufe certaine of the purveying.
But nowe ne' enforce I me not in fhewing
How the' ordir of the caufis ftant, but wot I
That it behovith that the befalling
Of thingis wiftè before certainly
Be neceffarie, al feme it not therby
That prefcience put falling neceffayre
To thing to come, al fal it foule or faire:
For if there fit a man youde on a ſe,
Than by neceffite behovith it
That certis thine opinion fothe be
That, wenift or conjectift that he fit;
And furthirovir now ayenwarde hit,
Lo right fo is it on the part contrarie,
As thus; now herkin, for I wol nat tarie :
I fay that if the opinion of the
Be fothe for that he fit, than fay I this,
That he mote fittin by neceffite,
And thus neceflite in eithir is;
For in him nede of fitting is iwis,
And in the nede of fothe; and thus forfothe
There mote neceffite ben in you bothe.
But thou maiſt faine, the man fit nat therfore
That thine opinion of his fitting foth is,
But rathir for the man fate there before,
Therfore is thine opinion fothe iwis:
And I ſay, though the cauſe of fothe is this
Cometh of his fitting, yet neceffite
Is enterchaungid bothe in him and the.
Thus in the famè wife out of doutance
I maie wel makin, as it fenith me;
My refoning of Godd'is purveyaunce
And of the thingis that to comin be,
By whichè refon men maie wel ife
That thilke thingis that in erthe befall
That by neceffite thei comin all :
For although that this thing ſhall come iwis,
Therfore is it purveyid certainly,
Nat that it cometh for it purveyid is;
Yet natheleffe behoveth it nedefully
That thing to come be purveyid trewely
Or ellis thingis that purveyid be
That thei betidin by neceflite.
And thus fuffifith right inough certaine
For to diftroie our fre choife everydell;
But now is this abufin to faine.
That falling of the thingis temporell
Is caufe of Godd'is preſcience eternell;
Now trewily that is a falſe fentence
That thing to come fhould cauſe his prefcience.
What might I wene and I had fuche a thought,
But that God purveieth thing that is to come
for that it is to come, and ellis nought?
Iwis that thing mote nedefully be fo,
Eke right fo whan I wote a thing coming,
So mote it come; and thus the befailing
Of thingis that ben wifte before the tide
Thei mote not ben efchewid on no fide,
Than faid he thus, Almighty Jove in trone!
That wotteft of all this thing the fothfaftneffe,
Rewe on my forowe, and do me dien fone,
Or bring Crefeide and me fro this diftreffe,
And while he was in all this hevineffe,
Difputing with himſelſe in this matere,
Came Pandare in, and feide as ye maie here:
O mighty God (quod Pandarus) in trone!
Eigh! who faw er a wife man farin fo?
Why, Troilus! what thinkift thou to done?
Haft thou fuch luft to ben thine ownè foe?
What parde yet is not Crefeide ago?
Why lift the fo thy felfe fordon for drede
That in thine hed thine eyin femin dede.
Haft thou nat livid many' a yere beforne
Withoutin her, and farde ful wel at efe?
Art thou for her and for none othir borne ?
Hath Kinde the wrought al only her to plefe?
Let be, and thinke right thus in thy difefe,
That in the dice right as there fallin chaunces,
Right fo in love there come and gon plefaunces
And yet this is a wondir most of al
Why thou thus foroweſt, ſeth thou woft nat yit
Touching her goyng how that it fhal fal,
Ne if the can her felfe diitourbin it;
Thou haft not yet affayid al her wit:
A man maie al betime his neckè bede
Whan it fhal of, and forowen at the nede.
Forthy take hede of al that I fhal ſay :
I have with her ifpoke and longe ibe,
So as accordid was betwixe us twey,
And evirmore me thinkith thus, that ſhe
Hath fomwhat in her hert'is privite
Wherwith the can, if I fhal aright rede,
Difturbe al this of whiche thou art in drede,
For which my counfel is, whan it is night
Thou to her go, and make of this an ende,
And blisful Juno, through her grete might,
Shal (as I hope) her grace unto us fende;
Mine hert feith certaine that the fhal nat wende
And forthy put thine hert a while in reft,
And holde thy purpoſe, for it is the beſt.
This Troilus anſwerde, and fighid fore,
Thou faift right wel, and I wil do right ſo,
And what him lift he faid unto him more :
And whan that it was time for to go
Ful privily himſelfe withoutin mo
Unto her came, as he was wont to done,
And how thei wrought I fhal you tellin fone.
Soth is, that when thei gonnin first to mete
So gan the paine ther hertis for to twiſte
That neithir of 'hem othir mightè grete,
B b ij
338
CRESEIDL.
TROILUS AND
Boke 17.
But 'hem in armis toke and aftir kifte;
The laffe wofull of 'hem bothe ne wiſte
Wher that he was, ne might o word out bring,
As I faid erft, for wo and for fobbing.
The woful teris that thei letin fal
As bittir werin, out of teris kinde,
For paine, as is ligne aloes or gal;
So bittir teris wept nat, as I finde,
The wofull Myrrha through the barke and rinde,
That in this world ther n'is fo hard an hert
That n'old have rewid on ther painis fmert.
But whan ther wofull wery goftis tavaine
Returnid ben there as 'hem ought to dwell,
And that fomwhat to wckin gan the paine
By length of plainte, and ebbin the wel
gan
Of ther falt teris, and the hert unfwel,
With broken voice, all horfe for fhright, Crefcide
To Troilus thefe ilkè wordis feide:
O Jove! I die, and mercy the befeche;
Helpe, Troilus: and therwithal her face
Upon his breft ſhe laid, and loſt her ſpeche,
Her wofull fpirite from his propir place
Right with the worde away in point to pace:
And thus fhe lith with hewis pale and grene
That whilom fresh and fairift was to fene.
This Troilus that on her gan beholde,
Cleping her name, and fhe lay as for ded,
Withoutin anfwere, and felte her limmes colde,
Her eyin throwin upwarde to her hed,
This forouful man can now non othir rede,
But oftin time her coldè mouthe he kiſte :
Where him was wo God and himſelf it wiſte.
He rifith up, and long ftraite he her leide,
For figne of life for aught he can or may
Can he none finde in nothing of Crefeide,
For whiche his fonge ful oft is Welaway!
But whan he fawe that fpechèleffe fhe lay,
With forouful voice, and hert of bliffe all bare,
He faid how ſhe was fro this world ifare.
So aftir that he long had her complained,
His hondis wronge, and faid that was to fey,
And with his teris falt her breft berained,
He gan tho teris wipin of full drey,
And pitoufly gan for the foulè prey,
And faid, O Lord! that fet arnin thy trone,
Rewe eke on me, for I fhal folow' her fone.
She colde was, and withoutin fentèment,
For ought he wote, for brethe yet felte he none,
And this was him a preignant argument
That he was forth out of this worlde agone;
And when he faw there was non othir wonne
He gan her limmis dreffe in fuche mancre
As men don them that ſhall ben laide on bere.
And aftir this with fterne and cruill herte
His fwerd anon cut of his fheth he twight,
Himſelfe to fleen, how fore ſo that him fmerte,
So that his foule her foule folowin might
Ther as the dome of Minos would it dight,
Sith Love and cruil Fortune it ne would
That in this world he lengir livin fhould.
Than faid he thus, fulfilde of high difdainę ;
O cruil Jove! and thou Fortune adverfe!
This al and fome is, falfely have ye flaine
Crefeide, and fith ye may do me no werfe,
Fie on your might and werkis fo diverfe!
Thus cowardely ye fhul me nevir winne;
There fhal no deth me fro my lady twinne.
For I this world, fith ye have flain her thus,
Wol let, and folow" her ſpirit lowe or hie;
Shal nevir lovir faine that Troilus.
Dare nat for ferè with his lady die,
For certaine I wol bere her companie;
But fithe ye wol nat fuffre" us livin here,
Yet fuffrith that our foulis ben ifere.
And thou, Cite in whiche I live in wo,
And thou, Friam! and brethrin al ifere!
And thou, my mothir! farwel, for I go,
And Atropos! make rcdy thou my bere,
And thou, Creſeidè ! o fwete hertè dere!
Receive thou now my fpirite, would he fey,
With fwerde at hert, al redy for to dey.
But as God would of fwough fhe tho abraide,
And gan to fighe, and Troilus! fhe cride;
And he anſwerid, Lady mine, Crefeide!
Livin ye yet? and let his fwerde doune glide.
Ye, hertè mine! that thankid be Cupide,
(Quod fhe) and therwithal fhe fore fight,
And he began to glade her as he might;
Toke her in armis two, and kifte her ofte,
And her to glad he did al his entent,
For whiche her goft, that flickered aie alofte,
Into her wofull hert aien it went;
But at the laſte, as that her eyin glent
Afide, anen fhe gan his fwerde afpie
As it lay bare, and gan for fere to crie,
And afkid him why he had it out drawe?
And Troilus anon the cauſe her tolde,
And how himſelf therwith he would have flawe
For whiche Crefeide upon him gan beholde,
And gan him in her armis faft to folde,
And faide, O mercy, God! lo whiche a dede!
Alas! how nighe we werin bothè dede!
Than if I ne hadde fpokin, as grace was,
Ye would have flaine your felfe anon? quod fhe.
Ye, doutileffe. And the anfwerde, Alas!
For by that ilke Lorde that madè me
I n'olde a forlong waie on live have bè,
Aftir your deth, to have ben crounid quene
Of al the londe the funne on fhinith fhene;
But with this felve fwerde which that here is
My felfin I would have flaine (quod fhe) tho.
But ho! for we have right inough of this,
And let us rife and ftraite to beddè go,
And there let us yfpekin of our wo,
For by that morter whiche that I fe brenne
Know I ful well that day is nat far henne.
Whan thei wer in ther bedde in armis folde
Naught was it like tho nightis here beforne,
For petoufly eche othir gan beholde,
As thei that haddin al ther bliffe ilorne,
Bewailing al the daie that thei were borne,
Till at the last this wofull wight Crefeide
To Troilus theſe ilke wordis feide:
La, hertè mine! wel wot ye this, (quod fhe)
That if a wight alwaie his wo complaine,
And fekith nat how holpin fór to be,
Boke I
389
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
It n'is but folic and encrece of paine;
And fens that here affemblid be we twaine
To findin bote of wo that we ben in,
It were all time right fone for to b'gin.
I am a woman, as ful wel ye wotte,
And as I am avifid ſodainly,
So wol I tel it you while it is hotte:
Me thinkith thus, that neithir ye nor I
Ought halfe this wo to makin ſkilfully,
For there is art inough for to redreffe
That yet is miffe, and fleen this hevineffe.
Sothe is, the wo the whiche that we ben inne,
For aught I wote, for nothing ellis is
But for the caufe that we ſhould ytwinne;
Confidrid al there n'is no more amis :
And what is than a remedy' unto this
But that we ſhape us fonè for to mete?
This al and fome is, my dere hertè ſwete!
Now that I ſhal wel bringin it aboute
To comen' ayen fone aftir that I go
Therof am I no manir thing in doute,
For dredèleffe within a weke or two
I fhal ben here; and that it may be fo
By alle right, and that in wordis few,
I fhal you wel an hepe of wayis ſhewe;
For whiche I woll nat makin longe fermon,
For time ilofte may not recovered be,
But I wol go to my conclufion,
And to the befte in aught that I can fe;
And for the love of God forgive it me
If I fpeke aught aicnft your hert'is reite,
For trewily I fpeke it for the beſte;
Making alway a proteftacion,
That in effect this thing that I fhall fay
N'is but to fhew in you my mocion
To find unto our helpe the beftè way,
And takith it none othirwife I pray;
For, finally, what fo ye me commaunde
That wol I done, for that is no demaunde.
Now herkenith this; Ye have well underftond
My goyng grauntid is by parliment,
So ferforth that it may not ben withſtond
For al this world, as by my jugement;
And fithe there helpith none avifèment
To lettin it, lette it paffe out of mind,
And let us ſhape a bettir waie to finde,
The fothe is this; the twinning of us twaine
Wol us difcfe and cruilly anoie,
But him behovith fomtime havin paine
That fervith Love, if that he wol have joie ;
And fith I fhal no farthir out of Troie
Than I maie ride aien on halfe a morowe
It ought the laffe caufin us for to forowe;
So as I fhal nat now ben hid in mewe,
That day by day, min ownè hertè dere!
Sens wel ye wote that it is nowe a trewe,
Ye fhal ful wel al mine eftate yhere,
And er that truce is done 1 fhal ben here;
And thus have ye both Antenor iwonne
And me alfo. Bethe glad now if ye conne.
And thinke it right thus, Crefeide is now agon,
But what? the fhal come hastily ayen :
And whan? alas! by God, lo, right anon,
Er dayis ten, this dare I fafely faine,
And than as erfte fhall we be bothè faine,
So as we ſhall togithers evir dwell,
That al this worlde ne might our bliffe tell.
I fe that oft time, there as we ben nowe,
That for the befte, our counfaile for to hide,
Ye ſpekè nat with me nor I with you
In fourtenight, ne fe you go ne ride;
And may ye nat ten dayis than abide,
For mine honour, in fuche an avinture?
Iwis ye mowe, or ellis lite endure.
Ye knowe eke howe that all my kin is here
But if that onely it my fathir be,
And eke mine othir thingis al ifere,
And namily my derè hertè ye,
Whom that I n'olde levin for to fe
For al this worlde, as wide as it hath ſpace,
Or ellis fe I nevir Jov'is face.
Why trowin ye my fathir in this wife
Covetith ſo to ſe me, but for drede
Leſte in this toune that folkis me difpife
Bicauſe of him for his unhappy dede?
What wote my fathir what life that I lede?
For if he wift in Troie how wel I fare
Us nedid for my wending nat to care.
Ye fene that every day eke more and more
Men trete of pece, and it fuppofid is
That men the Quene Helena fhall reſtore,
And Grekis us reftore that is amis;
So though there ne were comfort none but this,
That men purpofin pece on every ſide,
Ye may the bett at efe of herte abide :
For if that it be pece, mine hertè dere!
The nature of the pece mote nedis drive
That men muft entrecommunin ifere,
And to and fro eke ride and gone as blive
Al day as thicke as been flien from an hive,
And every wight have liberty to bleve
Where as him lift the bet withoutin leve.
And though fo be that pece ther maie be none,
Yet hither, though ther nevir pece ne were,
I muft ycome, for whidir fhould I gonc,
Or how, miſchauncèl ſhould I dwellin there
Among tho men of armis evre' in fere?
For whiche, as wifely God my foulè rede,
I can nat fene wherof ye fhouldin drede.
Have here anothir way, if it fo be
That al this thing pe maie you not fuffice:
My fathir, as ye knowin wele parde,
Is holdin olde and ful of covitife,
And I right nowe have foundin al the gife
Without in nette wherwith I fhal him hent,
And herkenith now if that ye wol allent.
Lo! Troilus, men faine full harde it is
The wolfe ful and the wedir whole to have;
This is to faine, that men full oft iwis
Mote fpendin parte the remnant for to faves
For ale with golde men maie the hert ygrave
Of him that is ſet upon covitife;
And how I mene I fhal it you devife.
The movable whiche I have in this toung
Unto my fathir fhal I take, and faic,
That right for truft and for falvacioun
Bb iij
390
Boke IV.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
It fent is from a frende of his or twaie,
The which frendis do fervently him praie
To fendin aftir more, and that in hie,
While that this toun ftant thus in jeopardie ;
And that fhal be of golde huge quantite;
Thus fhal I fain, but left folke it afpide
This maie be ſent by no wight but by me;
I fhal eke fhewin him, if pece betide,
What frendis that I have on every fide
To doe the wrathe of Priamus to pace
Towardis him, and don him ſtand in grace.
So what for o thing and for othir, fwete!
I fhal him fo enchauntin with my fawes
That right in hevin his foule fhal he mete;
For al Apollo or his clerkis lawes,
Or calculing, availith nat thre hawes;
Delire of golde fhal fo his foule blende
That as me lifte I fhall wel make an ende.
And if he would aught by his fort it preve
If that I lie, in certaine F fhal fonde
Disturbin him, and plucke him by the fleve,
Makin his forte, and berin him on honde,
He hath nat wel the goddis undirftonde,
For goddis fpeke in anıphibologies,
And for o fothe thei tellin twenty lies:
1
Eke drede fond firft goddis, I ſuppoſe,,
Thus fhal I faine, and that his cowarde herte
Made him amis the goddis text to gloſe
Whan he for ferdè out of Troie fterte;
And but I makin him fone to converte,
And done my rede within a day or twey,
I wol to you obligè me to dey. ·
And trewily, as writtin wel I finde,
That al this thing was faid of gode entent,
And that her hertè trewè was and kinde
Towardis him, and fpake right as fhe ment,
And that the ftarfe for wo nigh when fhe went,
And was in purpofe evir to be trewe,
This writin thei that of her werkis knewe.
This Troilus, with hert and eris fprad,
Herde al this thing devifid to and fro,
And verily it fenid that he had
The felvin witte, but yet to let her go
His hertè misforyave him evirmo;
But finally he gan his hert wreſt
To truftin her, and toke it for the beſt
;
1
For which the grete fury of his penaunce
Was quent with hope, and therwith 'hem bitwene
Began for joyè the amorous daunce;
And as the birdis when the funnè fhene
Delitin in ther fonge in levis grene,
Right fo the wordis that thei fpake ifere
Delitin them, and niade ther hertis chere.
But nath leffe, the wendin of Crefeide
For al this world may nat` out of his minde,
For whiche ful oft he petoufly her preide
That of her hafte he might her trewe yfinde,
And faide her, Certis if ye be unkinde,
And but ye come at daie fet into Troie,
Ne fhal I nere have hele, honor, ne joie :
For all fo fothe a funne uprift to morow,
And God fo wifely thou me wofull wretche
To reft ybring out of this cruil forow,
I wol my felvin fle if that ye dretche,
But of my deth though litil be to retche,
Yet er that ye me caufin fo to fmerte
Dwel rathir here mine ownè dere fwete herte!
For trewily, mine ownè lady dere!
The fleightis yet that I have herd you ftere
Ful fhapely ben to fallin al ifere,
For thus men faith, That one thinkith the bere,
But al another thinkith the ledere:
Your fire is wife, and faid is out of drede
Men may the wife outrenne and nat outrede.
It is full harde to haltin uneſpied
Before a crepil, for he can the crafte
Your fathir is in fleight as Argus cyed,
For albe' it that his movble' is him birafte
His olde fleight is yet fo with him lafte
Ye fhal not blende him for your womanhede,
Ne faine aright, and that is al my drede.
I n'ot if pece fhall evirmo betide,
But pece or no, for erneft ne for game,
I wote fith Calchas on the Grekis fide,
Hath onis ben, and loft fo foule his name,
He dare no more come here ayen for fhame,
For whiche that we, for ought I can eſpy,
To truftin on n'is but a fantafie.
r
Ye fhal cke fene your fathir fhall you glofe
To ben a wife, and, as he can wel preche.
He fhal fome Greke fo prefe and wel aloſe,
That ravishin he fhal you with his fpeche,
Or do you done by force, as he fhal teche,
And Troilus, on whom you n'il have routh,
Shal caufeleffe fo ftervin in this trouth.
And ore al this your fathir fhal diſpiſe
Us al, and faine this cite is but lorne,
And that th' affegè nevir fhal arife;
For why? the Grekis have it all: fworne,
Til we ben flaine and doun our wallis torne;
And thus he fhal you with his wordis fere,
That aie drede I that ye wol blevin there.
Ye ſhall eke fene fo many' a lufty knight
Among the Grekis, ful of worthineffe,
And eche of 'hem with hertè, wit, and might,
To plefin you done al his bufineffe,
That ye fhull dullin of the rudineffe
Of us the fcly Trojans, but if routhe
Romurdin you or vertue of your trouthe.
And this to me fo grevoufe is to thinke
That fro my breft it wol my foule rende,
Ne dredeleffe in me there may nat finke
O gode opinion if that ye wende;
For why? your fathir's fleightis wol us ſhende ș
And if ye gone, as I have tolde you yore,
So thinke I n'am but ded withoutin more;
For which with humble, true, and pitous, hert
A thouſande timis mercie I you praie,
So rewith on mine afpre painis fimert,
And doth fomwhat as that I fhal you faie,
And let us ftele away betwixt us twaie,
And thinke that foly' is whan a man maie cheſe
For accident his fubftaunce for to lefe.
I menè thus, that fens we mowe or daie
Well ftele awaie, and ben togither fo,
What wit were it to puttin in affaic
Boke IV.
391
TROILUS
AND CRESEID E.
(In cafe ye fhouldin to your fathir go)
If that ye mightin come aien or no?
Thus mene I, that it were a grete folie
To put that fikirneffe in je pardie.
And, vulgarly to ſpekin of fubftaunce,
Of trefour may we bothè with us lede
Ynough to live in honour and plefaunce
Untill the time that we fhall ben dede,
And thus we may efchewin all this drede;
For every othir waie ye can recorde
Mine hert iwis maie therwith nat acorde.
And hardily ne dredith no poverte,
For I have kin and frendis ellis where
That though we comin in our barè ſherte
Us fhuld nevir lacke ne golde ne gere,
But ben honourid while we dweltin there;
And go we' anone,
for as in mine entent
This is the beſt, if that ye wol affent.
Crefeide with a fighe right in this wife
Anſwerid him; Iwis, ny dere hert trewe!
We maie well ftele away as ye deviſe,
And findin fuche unthrifty wayis newe,
But aftirwarde ful fore it wol us rewe;
And helpe me God fo at my moſtè nede
As caufeleffe ye fuffrin al this drede :
For thilke day that I for cheriſhing
Or drede of fathir, or for othir wight,
Or for eſtate, delite, or for weding,
Be falfe to you, my Troilus, my knight!
Saturnus doughtir Juno, through her might,
As wode as Atalanta do me dwell
Eternally in Styx, the pit of hell.
And this on every god celeftiall
I fwere it you, and eke on eche goddeſſe,
On every nymph and deite infernall,
On Satyrys and Faunys more and leffe,
That halve goddis ben of wildirneſſe;
And Atropos my thred of life to breft
If I be falfe, Now trowe me if you left.
And thou, Simois, that as an arowe clere
Through Troie reunift aie dounward to the fe,
Be witneffe of this worde that faid is here,
That thilke day that I untrewe be
To Troilus, mine ownè hertè fre!
That thou returne backewarde unto thy well,
And I with body and foule finke to hell.
But that ye fpeke awaie thus for to go,
And lettin al your frendis, God forbede
For any woman that ye fhouldin fo!
And namily fens Troie hath now fuch nede
Of helpe; and eke of o thing takjth hede,
If this were wifte, my life laie in balaunce
And your honor, God fhilde us fro mifchaunce!
And if fo be that pece hereaftir take,
As al daie happith aftir angre game,
Why, Lorde! the forow' and wo ye woldin make
That ye ne durft comin ayen for fhame!
And er that ye jeopardin fo your namie
Beth nat to hafty in this hotte fare,
For hafty man ne wantith nevir care.
What trowe ye the peple cke all aboute
Would of it fay? it is ful light to' arede;
Thei woldin fay, and fwere it out of doute,
That love ne drave you nat to dor this dede,
But lufte voluptuous and cowarde drede :
Thus were al lofte iwis, mine hertè dere!
Your honour, whiche that now fo fhinith clere.
And alſo thinkith on mine honefte,
That flourith yet, how foule I fhould it fhende,
And with what filth it ſpottid fhouldè be
If in this forme I fhouldè with you wende:
Ne though I lived unto the worldis ende
My name fhould I nevir ayenward winne :
Thus were I loft, and that were routh and finne.
And forthy fle with refon al this hete;
Men faine, The fuffraunt overcometh parde,
Eke Who ſo wol bave life mote lete :
Thus makith vertue of neceffite
By pacience, and thinke that lorde is he
Of Fortune aie that naught woll of her retch,
And the ne dauntith no wight but a wretch.
And truftith this, that certis, hertè fwete!
Or Phœbus fuftir, Lucina the thene,
The Lion paflith out of this Arite
I woll ben here withoutin any wene;
I mene, as helpe me Juno, hevin's quene,
The tenth daie, but if that deth me affaile,
I woll you fene withoutin any faile.
And now, fo this be fothe (quod Troilus) ·
I fhall well fuffre unto the tenth daie,
Sens that I fe that nede it mote ben thus;
But for the love of God, if it be maie,
So let us ftelin privily awaie,
For evre' in one as for to live in reſt,
Mine hertè ſaieth that it woll be the beſt.
O mercie, God! what life is this? (quod fhe)
Alas! ye flea me thus for very tene;
I fe well now that ye miftruftin me,
For by your wordis it is well ifene :
Now for the love of Cynthia the ſheņe
Miftruft me nat thus caufèleffe for routh,
Sens to be true I have you plight my trouth.
And thinkith wel that fomtime it is wit
To ſpendin a time a time for to win
Ne parde lorne am I rat fro' you yet,
Though that we ben a daie or two atwin:
Drive out tho fantaſies you have within,
And truftith me, and levith eke your forow,
Or here my trouth, I wol nat live til morow;
;
For if ye wift how fore it doeth me ſmerte
Ye wouldè ceffe of this: for God thou woft
The pure fpirite ywepith in mine herte
To fene you wepin whiche that I love moſt,
And that I mote gon to the Grekis hofte
Ye, n'ere it that I wift a remedie
To come ayen right here I wouldè die.
But certis I am not fo nice a wight
That I ne can imaginin a waie
To come ayen that daie that I have hight,
For who maie holden' a thing that wol awaie
My fathir naught for all his queinte plaie;
And by my thrift my wending out of Troie
Anothir daie fhall tourne us all to joie.
Forthy with all mine herte I you befeke,
If that you lift doen ought for my praiere,
And for the love whiche that I love you eke
Bb iiij
392
Boke IV.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
That er that I departin fro you here
That of fo gode a comfort and a chere
I maie you fene that ye maie bring at reſt
Mine hertè, whiche is at the poinct to breft,
And ore al this I praie you, quod fhe tho,
Mine owne hert'is fothfaſt fuffifaunce!
Sith I am thine all whole withoutin mo,
That while that I am abfent no plefaunce
Of othir doe me fro your remenbraunce,
For I am er agaft; for why? men rede
That love is thing aie full of buſie drede.
For in this worlde there livith ladie none,
If that ye were untre, as God defende!
That fo betrayid were or wo begon
As I, that alle trouthe in you entende;
And doutèlefs if that othir wende
1 n'ere but dedde, and er ye cauſe yfinde
For Godd'is love ſo beth me naught unkinde.
To this answerid Troilus, and feide,
Now God, to whom there n'is no cauſe iwrie,
Me glad, as wis I nevir to Creſeide,
Sithe thilke daie I faw her firft with eye,
Was falfe, ne nevir fhall till that I die:
At fhort wordis, well ye maie me bileve;
I can no more; it fhall be founde at preve.
Graunt mercy, gode hert mine! iwis, (quod fhe)
And, blifsful Venus! let me nevir fterve.
Er I maie ftonde of plefaurice in degre
To quite him well that fo well can deſerve,
And while that God my wit will me conferve
I fhall fo doen, fo true I have you found,
That aie honour to me ward fhall rebounde;
(For truftith well that your eftate roiall,
Ne yeine delite, nor onely worthineffe
Of you in werre or turnaie marcfall,
Ne pompe, arraie, nobley, or eke richeffe,
Ne madin me to rue on your diftreffe,
But morall vertue, groundid upon trouth,
That was the cauſe I first had on you routh:
Eke gentle hert, and manhode that ye, had,
And that ye had (as me thought) in difpite
Every thing that fownid into bad,
As rudèneffe, and pepliſhe appetite,
And that your refon bridlid your delite;
This made abovin evèry creture
That I was yours, and ſhall while I maie dure,
And this may length of yeris nat fordoe,
Ne remuable Fortuné deface,
But Jupiter, that of his might maie doe
The forowfull be glad, fo yeve us grace
Er nightis tenne to metin in this place,
So that it maie your herte and mine fuffife
And fare now well, for time is that ye rife.
And aftir that thei long iplanid had,
And oft ikiſt, and ſtraite in armis folde,
The daie gan rife, and 'Troilus him clad,
And rufully his ladie gan behold,
As he that felt of deth'is caris cold,
And to her grace he gan him recommaunde ;
Where he was wo this holde I no demaunde;
}
For mann'is hedde imaginin ne can,
Ne' entendèment confidir, ne tongue tell,
The cruill painis of this wofull man,
That paflin every tourment doune in hell;
For whan he fawe that fhe ne might ydwell,
Whiche that his foule out of his body rent,
Withoutin more out of the chambre' he went,
}
}
1
h
TROILUS & CRESEIDE.
INCIPIT LIBER QUINTUS.
APROCHIN
PROCHIN gan the fatall deftine
That Jovis hath in difpoficioun,
And to you angrie Parcæ, fuftrin thre,
Committith to doen execucioun,
For whiche Crefeidè muſt out of the toun,
And Troilus fhall dwellin forth in pine
Till Lachefis his threde no lengir twine.
The goldin treffid Phoebus high on loft
Thryis had allè with his bemis clere
The fnowis molte, and Zephirus as oft
Ibrought ayen the tendir levis grene,
Sens that the fonne of Hecuba the Quene
Began to love her firft, for whom his forowe
Was all that ſhe departin fhould amorowe.
Full redy was at primè Diomede
Crefeide unto the Grekis hoſte to lede,
For forowe' of whiche fhe felt her hertê blede,
As ſhe that ne wiſt what was beft to rede :
And truily, as men in bokis rede,
Men wiſte nevir woman have the care,
Ne was fo lothe out of a toune to fare.
This Troilus withoutin rede or lore,
As man that hath his joyis cke forlore,
Was waiting on his ladie evirmore,
As fhe that was the fothfaft croppe and more
Of all his luft or joyis heretofore;
But Troilus, now farewell all thy joie!
For fhalt thou nevir fene her eft in Troie.
Soth is, that while he bode in this manere
He gan his wo full manly for to hide,
That well unneth it fene was in his chere,
But at the yatè there fhe fhould out ride
With certain folke he hovid her to' abide,
So wo bigon, all would he not him plain,
That on his hors unneth he fate for pain.
For ire he quoke, fo gan his hertè gnawe,
Whan Diomede on hors gan him to dreffe,
And faied unto himſelf this ilke fawe;
Alas! (quod he) this foule o wretchidneſſe
Why fuffre' I it? why n'ill I it redreſſe?
Were it nat bet at onis for to die
Than evirmore in langour thus to drie?
Why n'ill I make at onis riche and pore
To have inough to doen er that ſhe go?
Why n ill I bring all Troie upon a rore?
Why n'ill I flaen this Diomede alfo ?
Why n'ill I rathir with a man or two
Stele her awaie? Why woll I this endure?
Why n'ill I helpin to mine ownê cure?
But why he n'oldè doen fo fell a dede
That fhall I fain, and why him lift it ſpare;
He had in herte alwaie a manir drede
Left that Crefcide, in rumour of this fare,
Should have ben flain: lo! this was al his carę
And ellis certain, as I fayid yore,
He had it doen withoutin wordis more,
394
CRESEID E.
Boke V.
TROILUS AND
Crefeidè, whan fhe redy was to ride,
Full forowfully fighed, and faied Alas!
But forthe fhe mote for aught that maie betide,
And forthe ſhe ritte a full fobirly paſe;
There is none othir remedy' in this cafe :
What wondir is though that her fore fiert
Whan fhe forgoith her owne fwetè herte?
This Troilus in gife of curtific,
With hauke on hond, and with an hugè rout
Of knightis, rode and did her companie,
Ypaffing all the valey ferre without,
And ferthir would have riddin out of doubt
Full faine, and wo was him to gone fo fone,
But tourne he muft, and it was eke fo doen.
And right with that was Antenor icome
Out of the Grekis hofte, and every wight
Was of him glad, and faied he was welcome;
And Troilus, all n'ere his hertè light,
He pained him with all his fullè might
Him to withholde of weping at the left,
And Antenor he kift, and made grete feft.
And therwithall he muſt his leve ytake,
And caft his eye upon her pitouſly,
And nere he rode, his caufe for to make,
To take her by the honde all fobirlie;
And Lorde fo fhe gan wepin tendirlie,
And he full foft and flighly gan her ſeic,
Now holde your daie, and doe me not to deic.
With that his courfir tournid he about
With face full pale, and unto Diomede
No werde he fpake, ne none of all his rout,
Of whiche the fonne of Tydeus toke hede,
As he that kouthè more than the crede
In foche a craft, and by the rain her hent,
And Troilus to Troie homwardis went.
This Diomede, that lad her by the bridell,
Whan that he fawe the folke of Troie awaie,
Thought all my labor fhall not ben on idell,
If that I maie, for fomwhat fhall I faie,
For at the worst it ſhortin maic our waie,
I have herd faie eke timis twife twelve
He is a fole that woll for yete him felve.
But nath leffe this thought he well inough,
That certainly I am aboutin naught
If that I fpeke of love or make it tought,
For doutilefs if fhe have in her thought
Him that I geffe he maie not ben ibrought
So fone awaie; but I fhall finde a mene
That fle nat yet wete fhall what that I mene.
This Diomede, as he that could his gode,
Whan this was doen gan fallin forth in fpeche
Of this and that, and afkin why the ftode
In foche difefe? and gan her eke befeche,
'That if that he encrefin might or eche
With any thing her efe that fhe ſhould
Commaunde it him, and faid he doen it would ;
He faide eke thus, I wot you thinkith ftraunge,
No wondir is, for it is to you newe,
[plefe
For truily he fwore her as a knight
That ther n'as thing with which he might her
That he n'olde doen his pain and al his might
To doen it, for to doep her herte an eſe,
And prayid her fhe would her forowe' apeſe,
And faied, Iwis we Grckis can have joie
To honoure you as well as folke of Troic.
Th' acqueintaunce of theſe Trojans for to chaunge
For folke of Grece, which that ye nevir knewe;
But wouldè nevir God but if as true
A Greke ye fhould emong us all yfinde
As any Trojan is, and eke as kinde.
And by the caule I fwore you, lo! right now
To ben your frende, and help you to my might,
And for that more acqueintaunce eke of you
Have I had than anothir ftraungir wight,
So fro this forth I praie you dare and night
Commaundith me, how fore fo that me fmerte.
To doen all that maie like unto your herte:
And that ye me wold as your
brothir trete,
And takith not my frendſhip in difpite;
And though your forowes ben for thingis grete,
N'ot I nat why, but out of more refpitc
Mine hert hath for to' amende it grete delite,
And if I maie your harmis nat redreſſe
I am right forie for your hevineffe :
For though ye Trojans with us Grekis wroth
Have many' a daie ben, alwaie yet parde
O god of Love in fothe we fervin bothe:
And for the love of God, my ladic fre,
Whom fo ye hate as beth not wroth with me,
For truily there can no wight you ſerve
That halfe fo loth your wrathe would deferve.
And n'ere it that we ben fo nere the tent
Of Calchas, whiche that fene us both maie,
I would of this you tell all mine entent;
But this enfelid till anothir daie:
Yeve me your honde; I am and ſhall be aie,.
God help me fo, while that any life maie dure,
Your owne abovin every creture.
Thus faid I nere er now to woman borne,
For God mine herte as wifely glade fo
I lovid nevir woman here beforne
As
paramours, ne nevir fhall no mo;
And for the love of God be not my fo,
All can I not to you, my ladie dere!
Complain aright, for I am yet to lere.
And wondrith nought, min ownè lady bright!
Though that I fpeke of love to you thus blive
For I have herd or this of many' a wight
That lovid thing he nere faw in his live;
Eke I am not of power for to ſtrive
Ayenft the god of Love, but him obaie
I woll alwaie, and mercie I you praie.
Ther beth fo worthy knightis in this place,
And yc fo faire, that everiche of 'hem all
Woll painin him to flondin in your grace;
But might to me fo faire a grace befall
That ye me for your fervaunt wouldè call,
So lowly ne fo truily you ferve
N'ill none of 'hem as I fhall till I ftervc.
Crefeide unto that purpoſe lite anfwerde,
As fhe that was with forowc' oppreffid fo
That in effect the naught his talis herde,
But here and there now here a worde or two;
Her thought her forowfull herte bruft atwo;
For whan fhe gan her fathir ferre efpic
Well nigh doune of her hors fhe gan to fie.
1
Boke 17,
395
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
But nathèleffe fhe thonkith Diomede
Of all his travaile and his godè chere,
And that him lift his frendſhip to her bede,
And the acceptith it in gode manere,
And woll do fain that is him lefe and dere,
And truftin him fhe would, and well fhe might,
As fayid fhe, and from her hors ſhe' alight.
Her fathir hath her in his armis nome,
And twentie times he kift his doughtir fwete,
And faied, O derè doughtir mine! welcome.
She faied eke fhe was fain with him to nete,
And ftode forth ftill, mild, muet, and manfuete.
But here I leve her with her fathir dwell,
And forthe I woll of Troilus you tell.
1
To Troie is come this wofull Troilus
In forowe abovin all forowes fmert,
With felon loke and with face difpitous,
Tho fodainly doune from his hors he ftert,
And through his paleyfe with a fwollin hert
To chambir went; of nothing toke he hede,
Ne none to him dare fpeke o worde for drede.
And there his forowes that he ſparid had
He yave an iffue large, and Deth he cride,
And in his throwis frenetike and mad
He curfith Jove, Apollo, and Cupide,
He curfith Bachus, Ceres, and Cypride,
His birthe, himſelf, his fate, and eke Nature,
And fave his ladie evèry creture.
To bed he goth, and wellith there and turneth
In furie as doeth Ixion in hell,
And in this wife he nigh till daie fojourneth,
But tho began his herte alite unfwell
Through teris which that gonnin up to wel,
And pitoufly he cried upon Creſeide,
And to himſelf right thus he ſpake and ſeide :
Where is mine ownè ladie lefe and dere?
Where is her whit breft? where is it? where?
Where ben her armis and her eyin clere
That yefterdaie this time with me were?
Now maie I wepe alone many a tere,
And grafpe about I maie, but in this place
Save a pilowe I find naught to embrace.
How fhall I doen? whan fhall fhe come again?
I n'ot, alas! Why let I her fo go?
As wouldè God I had as tho be flain!
O herte mine, Crefeide! o fwetè fo!
O ladie mine! that I love and no mo,
To whom for evirmo mine herte I vowe,
Se how I die; ye n'ill me not reſcowe !
Who feith you now, my right lodèſterre?
Who fittith now or ftant in your prefence?
Who can comfortin now your hert'is werre,
Now I am gon whom ye yeve audience?
Who ſpekith for me now in my abſence?
Alas! no wight, and that is all my care,
For well wote I as ill as I ye fare.
How should I thus ten dayis full endure
Whan I the firſt night havin all this tene?
And how fhall fhe eke, forow full creture,
For tendirneffe how fhall fhe this fuftene
Soche wo for me? o! pitous, pale, and grene,
Shall woxin ben her freſhe womanly face.
For langour er fhe tourne unto this place.
4
And whan he fill in any flombringis
Anon begin he ſhoulde for to grone,
And dremin of the dredfullift thingis
That might yben, as mete he were alone
In place horrible, making aie his mone,
Or metin that he was emongis all
His enemies, and in their hondis fall.
And therewithall his bodie fhouldè fterte,
And with the ſtarte all fodainly awake,
And foche a tremour fele about his herte,
That of the fere his bodie fhould quake,
And therewithall he fhould a noife ymake,
And femin as though he ſhould fallin depe,
From high aloft, and than he wouldè wepe;
And rewin on himſelf ſo pitouſly
That wondir was to here his fantafie;
Anothir time he ſhouldè mightily
Comfort himſelf, and fain it was folie
So caufèleffe foche drede and wo to drie,
And eft begin his aſpre forowes newe,
That every man might on his painis rewe.
Who could tell all aright, or full difcrive
His wo, his plaint, his langour, and his pine?
Nat all the men that han or ben on live:
Thou, Redir, maieft thy felf full well devine.
That foche a wo my wit can not define;
On idell for to write it fhould I fwinke
Whan that my wit is werie it to thinke.
On hevin yet the fteris werin fene,
Although full pale iwoxin was the mone,
And whitin began the horizon fhene
All eftwardis, as it is wont to doen,
And Phoebus with his rofie cartè fone
Gan aftir that to dreffe him up to fare
Whan Troilus hath fent aftir Pandere.
This Pandare, that of all the daie beforne
Ne might have comin Troilus to fe,
Although that he on his hedde it had forne,
For with the King Priam al daie was he,
So that it laie nat in his liberte
No where to gon, but on the morowe' he went
To Troilus, whan that he for him fent;
For in his herte he couldê well devine
That Troilus all night for forowe woke,
And that he wouldè tell him of his pine;
This knewe he well inough withoutin boke;
For which to chambir ftreight the way he toke,
And Troilus tho fobirly he grette,
And on the bedde full fone he gan him fette.
My Pandarus! (quod Troilus) the forowe
Whiche that I drie I maie not long endure;
I trowe I fhall not livin till to morowe;
For whiche I would alwaies on avinture
To the devifin of my fepoulture
The forme, and of my movble thou difpone
Right as the femith beſt is for to doen:
But of the fire and flambe funèrall
In whiche my body brennin ſhall to glede,
And of the feft and playis Paleſtrall
At my vigile I praie the take gode hede
That that be well, and offir Mars my ſtede,
My fwerde, mine helme, and, levé brothir dere!
My fhelde to Pallas yeve that fhinith clere
**
396
Eoke V.
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
The poudre' in which mine hert ibrend fhall |
That praie I the thou take, and it conferve [turn
In a veffell that men clepith an Urne,
Of golde, and to my lady that I ferve,
For love of whom thus pitously I fterve,
So yeve it her, and doe me this plefaunce
To praie her kepe it for a remembraunce:
For well I felin by my maladie,
And by my dremis now and yore ago,
All certainly that I mote nedis die;
The oule eke whiche that hight Afcalapho
Hath aftir me ſhright all theſe nightis two :
And god Merc'urie, now of me woful wretch
The foule guide, and whan the lift it fetche.
Pandare anſwerid and faied, Troilus,
My dere frende! as I have told the yore
That it is folie for to forowen thus,
And caufèleſſe, for whiche. I can no more,
But who fo woll not trowin rede ne lore
I can not fene in him no remedie,
But let him worchin with his fantafie.
But, Troilus, I proie the tell me now
If that thou trowe er this that any wight
Hath lovid paramours as well as thou?
Ye, God wot, and fro many' a worthie knight
Hath his ladie forgon a fourtènight
And he nat yet made halvindele the fare;
What nede is the to makin all this care?
Sens daie by daie thou maieft thy felvin fe,
That from his love or ellis from his wife
A man mote twinnin of neceffite,
Ye, though he love her as his ownè life,
Yet n'ill he with himſelf thus makin ftrife;
For well thou woft, my levè brothir dere!
That alwaie frendis maie not ben ifere.
How doen this folke that fene ther lovis wedded
By frendis might, as it bitidith oft,
And fene 'hem in ther fpoufis bedde ibedded?
God wote thei take it wifely faire and foft;
For why? gode hope halt up ther herte aloft,
And for thei can a time of forowe' endure;
As time 'hem hurtith a time doeth 'hem cure.
So fhouldift thou endure, and lettin flide
The time, and fondè to ben glad and light;
Tenne dayis n'is not fo long to abide;
And fens the to comin the hath behight
She n'ill her heft brekin for any wight,
For drede the nat that the n'ill finde a waie
To come ayen, my life that durft I laie.
Thy ſwevines eke, and all ſoche fantaſie,
Drive out, and let 'hem farin to miſchaunce,
For thei proccde of thy melancolic,
That doeth the fele in flepe all this penaunce :
A ftrawe for all fwevenis fignifiaunce!
God helpe me fo! I coumpt 'hem not a bene;
There wot no man aright what dremis mene,
For preftis of the temple tellin this,
That dremis ben the revelacions
Of goddis, and als well thei telbiwis
That thei ben infernalle illufions,
And lechis faine that of complections
Procedin thei, of faſt or glotonie :
Who wot in the thus what thei fignific?
Eke othir fain that through impreſſions,
As if a wight hath faſt a thing in minde,
That thereof comith foche avifions;
And othir fain, as thei in bokis finde,
That aftir timis of the yere by kinde
Men dreme, and that th' effect goth by the mone :
But leve no dreme, for it is nat to doen.
Well worth of dremis aie thefe oldè wives;
And truly eke augurie of theſe foulis,
For fere of which men wenin lefe ther lives,
As ravin's qualm, or fchriching of theſe oulis,
To trowiu on it bothè falfe and foule is :
Alas! alas! that fo noble' a creture
As is a man fhould dredin foche ordure!
For whiche with all mine hert I the befeche
Unto thy felf that all this thou foryeve;
And rife now up, withoutin morè fpeche,
And let us caft how forth maie beft be drive
The time, and eke how freſhly we maie live
Whan fhe comith, the which fhall be right fone;
God helpe me fo the beſt is thus to doen.
Rife, let us fpeke of luftic life in Troie
That we have lad, and forth the time drive,
And eke of time coming us rejoie,
That bringin ſhall our bliffè now ſo blive,
And langour of theſe twifè dayis five
We ſhall therwith fo foryet or oppreffe
That well unneth it doen fhall us dureffe.
This toune is full of lordis all about,
And truis lafțith all this mene while;
Go we playin us in fome luftie rout,
To Sarpedon, not hennis but a mile,
And thus thou shalt the time well begile,
And drive it forth unto that blifsfull morowe
That thou her fe that caufe is of thy forowe.
Now rife, my dere brothir Troilus!
For certis it non honour is to the
To wepe, and in thy bedde to roukin thus,
For truily of o thing truſt to me,
If thou thus ligge a daie, or two, or thre,
The folke wol wene that thou for cowardife
The fainift fick, and that thou darft not rife.
This Troilus anfwerde, O brothir dere!
This knowin folke that have ifuffrid pain,
That though he wepe and make forowfull chere
That felith harme and ſmerte in every vain
No wondir is; and though I evir plain
Or alwaie wepe I am nothing to blame,
Sens I have loft the cauſe of al my game.
But fithins of fine force I mote arife
I fhal arife as fone as er I maie,
And God, to whom mine herte I facrifice,
So fende us haftily the tennith daie,
For was there nevir foule fo faine of Maic
As I fhall ben whan fhe comith in Troic
That cauſe is of my tourment and my joie,
But whidir is thy rede, (quod Troilus)
That we maie plafe us beft in all this toun ?
By God my counfaile is (quod Pandarus)
To ride and plaic us with King Sarpedoun.
So long of this thei fpekin up and doun
Till Troilus gan at the laſt affent
To rife, and forth to Sarpedon thei went,
↓
Bake 7.
399
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
This Sarpedon, as he that honourable
Was all his live, and full of hie proweffe,
With all that might ifervid ben on table
That deinte was, all cofte it grete richeſſe,
He fedde 'hem daie by daic, that foche nobleffe,
As faiden bothe the mofte and eke the left,
Was nere er that daie wifte at any feft:
Nor in this worlde there is none inftrument
Delicious through winde or touch on corde,
As ferre as any wight hath er iwent,
That tongè tell or hertè maie recorde
But at that feft it was well herd acorde,
Ne' of ladies eke fo faire a companie
Or daunce er tho was never fene with eye.
But what availith this to Troilus,
That for his forowe nothing of it ronght,
But evir in one his hertè pitous
Full bufily Crefeide his ladie fought?
On her was evir all that his herte thought,
Now this now that fo faft imagining
That gladin iwis can him no feſting.
Theſe ladies cke that at this feftè bene,
Sens that he fawe his ladie was awaie,
It was his forowe on 'hem for to fene,
Or for to here on inftrumentis plaie;
For fhe that of his hert berith the kaie
Was abfent, lo! this was his fantaſie,
That no wight ſhouldè makin melodie:
Now there n'as hour in all the daic or night,
Whan he was there as no man might him here,
That he ne faied, O loveſome ladie bright!
How have ye farin fins that ye were there?
Welcome iwis, mine ownè ladie dere!
But welawaie! all this n'as but a mafe;
Fortune his love entendid but to glafe.
The lettirs eke that ſhe of olde time
Had him ifent he would alone irede
An hundrid fithe atwixtin none and prime,
Refiguring her ſhape and womanhede
Within his hert, and every worde and dede
That paffid was; and thus he drove to’an ende
The ferthe day, and thennis wolde he wende;
And faidè, Levè brothir Pindarus !
Intendift thou that we fhall here byleve
Til Sarpedon wol forth conveyin us?
Yet were it fairir that we toke our leve;
For Godd'is love let us now fone at eve
Our levè take, and homwarde let us tourne,
For trewely I n'il nat thus fojourne.
Pandare anſwerid, Be we comin hither
To fetchin fire and rennin home again?
God helpe me fo I can nat tellin whither
We mightin gone, if I fhall fothly faine,
There any wight is of us more faine
Than Sarpedon; and if we hennis hie
Thus fodainly I holde it vilanie;
Sith that we feydin we wouldin byleve
With him a weke, and now thus fodainly
The ferthe day to take of him our leve,
He wouldè wondrin on it trewèly:
Let us holde forth our purpofe fermèly,
And fens that ye behightin him to' abide
Holde ferwarde now, and aftir let us ride.
This Pandarus with mochil pine and wo
Made him to dwel; and at the wek'is ende
Of Sarpedon thei toke ther leve to go,
And on ther way they fpedin hem to wende.
(Quod Troilus) Now, Lorde, me gracè fende
That I maie findin at mine home-comming
Crefeide comin, and therwith gan he fing.
Ye halif wodê thought ywis Pandare,
And to him felfe ful foftily he ſeide,
God wote refroidin may this hottè fare
Er Calcas fendè Troilus Crefeide:
But nethèleffe he japid thus, and feide,
And ſwore iwis, his hert him wel behight
She wouldin come as fone as er fhe might.
Whan thei unto the paleis were icomen
Of Troilus thei doun of horfe alight,
And to the chambre ther waie have thei nommer,
And unto timè that it gan to night
Thei fpekin of Crefeide the lady bright,
And aftir this, whan that 'hem bothe lefte,
Thei fpede 'hem fro the fuppir unto reſt.
On morow' as fone as day began to clere
This Troilus gan of his flepe to' abreide,
And to Pandarus his owne brothir dere,
For love of God, ful pitoufly he feide,
As go we fene the paleis of Creſeide,
For fens we yet maie have none othir feſt
So let us fene her paleis at the left!
And therwithal his mcine for to blende
A cauſe he fonde into the toun to
go,
And to Crefeid'is paleis they gone wende;
But Lorde! this fely Troilus was wo,
Him thought his forouful hert braft atwo,
For when he ſaw her doris fperrid all
Wel nigh for forow' adoun he gan to fall.
Therwith when he was ware, and gan behold
How fhet was every window of the place,
As froſt him thought his hert began to cold,
For whiche with chaungid dedly palè face
Withoutin worde he forth by gan to pace,
And as God would he gan fo faſt to ride
That no wight of his countinaunce afpide.
Than faide he thus; O paleis defolate!
O houſe of houfis whilom beft ydight!
O paleis empty and difconfolate!
O thou lanterne, of which queint is the light!
O paleis whilom day, that now art night!
Wel oughtift thou to fal and I to die
Sens fhe is went that wont was us to gie.
O paleis whilom croune of houſis al!
Enluminid with funne of alle bliffe,
O ring, of whiche the rubie is out fall!
O caufe of wo that caufe haft ben of bliffe!
Yet fens I may no bet faine would I kiſſe
Thy colde doris, durft I for this route;
And farwel fhrine of whiche the faint is out!
Therwith he caft on Pandarus his cie
With chaungid face, and pitous to beholde,
And whan he might his time aright aſpie
Aie as he rode to Fandarus he tolde
His newe forow, and eke his joyis olde,
So pitoufly, and with fo ded an hewe,
That every wight might on his forow rewe,
393
Boke F
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Frothinnis forth he ridith up and doune,
And every thing came him to remembraunce
As he rode forth by placis of the toune
In whiche he whilom had all his plefaunce;
Lo yondir faw I mine owne lady daunce,
And in that temple with her cyin clere
Me captive caught firft my right lady dere :
And yondir have I herde ful luftily
My dere hert Crefcide laugh, and yondir plaie
Sawe I her onis eke ful blisfully,
A
And yondir onis to me gan fhe faie,
Now, gode fwete! lovith me wel I you praye;
And yonde fo godely gan fhe me beholde
That to the deth mine hert is to her holde :
And at the cornir in the yondir houfe
Herde i mine aldirlevift lady dere
So womanly with voice melodioufe
Singin fo wel, fo godely and ſo clere,
That in my foule yet me thinkith I here
The blisful fowne, and in that yondir place
My lady firft me toke unto her grace.
Than thought he thus, O blisfull Lorde Cupide!
Whan I the proceffe have in memorie
How thou me haft weried on every fide
Men might a boke make of it like a ſtoric;
What nede is the to ſeke on me victorie
Sens I am thine and wholly at thy will?
What joy haft thou thine ownè folke to ſpill?
Wel haft thou, Lorde, iwroke on me thine ire,
Thou mighty God, and dredful for to greve;
Now mercy, Lorde! thou woft wel I defire
Thy grace mofte of alle luftis leve;
And live and die I wol in thy beleve;
For whiche I ne' afke in guerdon but a bone,
That thou Crefeide aien me fendè fone.
Diftrainin her hert as faft to returne
As thou doeft mine to longin her to fe,
Than wote I wel that fhe n'il nat ſojourne :
Now blisful Lorde! fo cruil thou ne be
Unto the blode of Troie, I praiè the,
As Juno was unto the blode Thebane,
For whiche the folke of Thebis caught ther bane.
And aftir this he to the yatis wente
Ther as Crefeide out rode a full gode paas,
And up and doun there made he many' a wente,
And to him felfe ful oft he ſaid, Alas!
Fro hennis rode my bliffe and my ſolas :
As wouldè blisfal God now for his joie
I might her fene ayen comin to Troie !
And to the yondir hil I gan her gide,
Alas! and there I toke of her my leve,
And yonde I ſaw her to her fathir ride,
For forow of whiche mine hert fhal to cleve,
And hithir home I came whan it was eve,
And here I dwel, out caſt from allè joie,
And fhal, tit I maie fene her efte in Troie.
And of him ſelfe imaginid he ofte
To ben defaitid, pale, and woxin leffe
Than he was wonte, and that men faidin fofte
What may it be? who can the fothè geffe
Why Troilus hath al this hevineffe?
And al this n'as but his melancolie,
That he had of him felfe fuche fantaſie.
Anothir time imaginin he would
That every wight that went by the wey
Had of him routhe, and that thei fainè ſhould
I am right fory Troilus wol dey:
And thus he drove a daie yet forth or twey,
As ye have herde: fuche life gan he to lede
As he that ftode betwixin hope and drede:
For which him likid in his fongis fhewe
Th' enchefon of his wo as he beſt might,
And made a fonge of wordis but a fewe,
Somwhat his wofull herte for to light,
And whan he was from every mann'is fight
With fofte voice he of his lady dere,
That abfent was, gan fing as ye maie here:
O fterre! of which I loft have all the light,.
With hertè fore wel ought I to bewaile
That evir derke in turment, night by night,
Towarde my deth with winde I ftere and faile,
For whiche the tennith night if that I faile
The giding of thy bemis bright an houre
My fhip and me Carybdis woll devoure.
This fongè when he thus fongin had fone
He fil aien into his fighis olde,
And every night, as was his wont to done,
He ftode the bright mone to beholde,
And al his forowe he to the mone tolde,
And ſaid, Iwis whan thou art hornid newe
I fhal be glad if al the world be trewe.
I ſaw thine hornis olde eke by that morow
Whan hennis rode my bright lady dere,
That caufe is of my turment and my forow,
For whichè, o bright Lucina the clere!
For love of God ren faft about thy ſphere,
For whan thine hornis newe ginnin to fpring
Than fhal fhe come that maie my bliffe ybring,
The daie is more and lengir every night
Than thei ben wont to be, thim thoughtè tho,
And that the funnè went his courſe unright
By lengir waie than it was wonte to go,
And faid, Iwis I drede me evirmo
The funn'is fonne Phaeton be on live,
And that his fathir's carre amiffe he drive.
Upon the wallis faft eke would he walke,
And on the Grekis hoft he would yſe,
And to him felfe right thus he would ytalke ;
Lo! yondir is mine ownè lady fre,
Or ellis yondir there the tentis be,
And thence comith this ayre that is fo fote,
That in my foule I fele it doth me bote.
And hardily this winde that more and more
Thus ftoundemele encrefith in my face
Is of my ladies depè fighis fore;
I preve it thus, for in none othir ſpace
Of al this toun, fave onely in this place,
Fele I no winde that founith fo like paine,
It faith Alas! why twinid be we twaine?
This longè time he drivith forth right thus,
Til fully pallid was the ninthe night,
And aie beſide him was this Pandarus,
That befily did allè his full might
Him to comfort and make his hertè light,
Yeving him hope alway the tenthe morow
That she fhakcomen and ftintin al his forow,
Boke F.
899
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
Upon that othir fide eke was Crefcide
With women fewe among the Grekis ſtrong,
For whiche ful oft a day Alas! fhe feide,
That I was borne! wel maie mine hertè long
Aftir my deth, for now live I to long;
Alas! and I ne may it not amende,
For now is worſe than evir yet I wende.
My father n'il for nothing do me grace
To gone ayen for aught I can him queme,
And if fo be that I my termè pace
My Troilus, alas! fhal in his hert deme
That I am falfe, and fo it maie wel feme
Thus fhal I have unthonke on every fide:
That I was borne fo welaway the tide !
;
And if that I me put in jeopardie
To ftele awaie by night, and it befal
That I be caught I ſhal he holde a ſpie,
Or ellis, lo this drede I moſt of al,
If in the hondis of fome wretche I fal
I n'am but loft, al be mine hertè trewe:
Now mighty God thou on my forow rewe!
Ful pale iwoxin was her brightè face,
Her limmis lene, as the that al the daie
Stode whan fhe durft, and lokid on the place
'There ſhe was borne, and he had dwellid aye;
And al the night weping, alas! the laie;
And thus difpeirid out of allè cure
She lad her life this foroufull creture.
Ful oft a daie fhe fighed eke for diftreffe,
And in her felfe fhe went aic purtraying
Of Troilus the grete worthineffe,
And al his godely wordis recording
Sens firit that daie her love began to ſpring;
And thus fhe fette her wofull hert afire
Through remembraunce of that fhe gan defire.
In all this world there n'is fo cruil hert
That her had herd complainin in her forow
That n'old have wepin for her painis fmert;
So tendirly fhe wept both eve and morow
Her nedid not no teres for to borow;
And this was yet the worst of all her paine,
Ther was no wight to whom fhe durft complaine.
Ful rewfully the lokid upon Troie,
Behelde the touris high and eke the hallis;
Alas. (quod fhe) the plefaunce and the joie,
The whiche that now al turned into gal is,
Have I had oftin within yondir wallis!
O Troilus' what doeſt thou now? fhe feide;
Lord, whethir thou yet think upon Crefeide!
Alas! that I ne' had trowed on your lote,
And went with you, as ye me redde er this,
Than had I now not fighid halfe ſo fore :
Who might have faid that I had don amis
To ftele awaie with fuche one as he is?
But al to late comith the lectuarie
Whan men the corfe unto the gravè carie.
To late is now to fpeke of that materej
Prudence, alas! one of thine eyin thre
Me lackid alway er that I came here,
For on time paflid wel remembrid me,
And preſent time eke could I wel yſe,
But future time, er I was in the fnare,
Could I not fene, that caufith now my care.
But nathèleffe, betide what may detide,
I fhal to morow' at night, by eft or weſt,
Out of this hofte ftele on fome manir fide,
And gon with Troilus where as him left;
This purpoſe wol I holde, and this is beſt;
No force of wickid tongis jonglerie,
For er on love have wretchis had envie:
For who fo wol of every worde take hede
Or rulin him by every wight'is wit,
Ne fhal he nevir thrivin out of drede,
For that that fome men blamin ever yet
Lo othir manir folke commendin it;
And as for me, for al fuche variaunce
Felicite clepe I my fuffifaunce.
For whiche, withoutin any wordis mo,
To Troie I wol, as for conclufioun.
But God it wote er fully monthis two
She was ful ferre fro that entencioun,
For bothè Troilus and Troi toun
Shall knotéleffe throughout her hertè ſlide,
For the wol take a purpoſe for to' abide.
This Diomede of whom I you tel gan,
Goth now within himſelfe aie arguing,
With al the fleight and al that er he can,
How he maie beſt with ſhortift tarying
Into his nette Crefeid'is hertè bring;
To this entente he couthè nevir fine;
To fifhin her he laide out hoke and line.
But nathèleffe wel in his hert he thought
That fhe n'es nat without a love in Troie,
For nevir fithin he her thennis brought
Ne couthe he fene her laugh or makin joie;
He n'ift how beft her hert for to acoie,
But for t'affey he ſaid nought it ne greveth,
For He that naught affayith naught atchevetb.
Yet faid he to him felfe upon a night,
Now am I nat a fole that wote wel howe
Her woe is for love of anothir wight
And herupon to gon affaie her nowe?
I maie well wete it n'il nat ben my prowe,
For wife folke in bokis it expreſſe,
Men fbal nat wowe a wight in bevineffe.
But who fo might ywinnin fuche a floure
Fro him for whom the mournith night and daic
He might wel faine he were a conqueroure;
And right anone, as he that bold was aie,
Thought in his hert, happin what happin may,
Al fhould I die I wol her herté feche,
I fhal no more lefin but my fpeche.
This Diomede, as bokis us declare,
Was in his nedis preft and corageous,
With ftern: voice, and mighty limmis fquare,
Hardy and teftife, ſtrong and chevalrous,
Of dedis like his fathir Tydius;
And fome men faine he was of tongè large,
And heire he was of Caledon and Arge.
Crefeide mene ywas of her ftature,
Therto of shape, of face, and eke of chere,
There ne mightin hen no fairir creture;
And oftin timis this was her manere
To gone itrellid with her heris clere
Doun by her colere, at her backe behinde,
Which with a threde of gold fhe would binde.
400
Boke F.
TROILUS AND CRESEÏDE.
•
And fave her bowis joynedin iferer
There n'as no lacke in aught I can efpien;
But for to fpekin of her eyin clere,
Lo! truily thei writtin that her ſeien
That paradis ftode formed in her eien,
And with her richè beauty evirmore
Strove love in her aie which of 'hem was more.
She fobre was, fimple, and wift withall,
The beft inorifhid eke that might be,
And godely of her fpeche in generall,
Charitable, eftately, lufty', and fre,
Ne nevirmore ne lackid her pite,
Tendrehertid, and fliding of corage,
But truly I can nat tel her age.
And Troilus wel woxin was in hight,
And complete, formid by proporcioun
So wel, that Kinde it naught amendin might,
Yong, freſh, and ſtrong, and hardy as lioun,
And trewe as ftele in eche condicioun,
One of the beft entetchid creature
That is or ſhal while that the world maie dure.
And certainly in ſtory it is fonde
That Troilus was nevir to no wight,
As in his time, in no degre feconde
In daring do that longith to a knight;
Al might a giaunt paſſin him of might
His hert aie with the first and with the beſt
Stode peregall to dare done what him left.
But for to tellin forthe of Diomede
It fil, that aftir on the tennith daie
Sens that Crefeide out of the cite yede
This Diomede, as freſh as braunche in Maie,
Came to the tentè there as Calchas laie,
And fainid him with Calchas have to done,
But what he mente I fhal you tellin fone.
Crefeidè, at ſhorte wordis for to tel,
Welcomid him, and doun him by her fette,
And he was ethe inough to makin dwel;
And aftir this, withoutin longè lette,
The fpicis and the wine men forth 'hem fette,
And forthe thei ſpeke of this and that ifere,
As frendis done, of whiche ſome fhall ye here.
He gan firſt fallin of the warre in ſpeche
Betwixin them and the folke of Troie toun,
And of th' affiege he gan eke her beſechc
To tellin him what was her opinioun;
Fro that demaunde he fo difcendith doun
To aſkin her if that her ftraungè thought
The Grekis gife and werkis that thei wrought,
And why her fathir taryith ſo long
To weddin her unto fome worthy wight?
Creſeidè, that was in her painis ſtrong
For love of Troilus her ownè knight,
So ferforth as the conning had or might
Anſwerde him tho, but as of his entente
It femid that fhe ne wift what he mente.
But natheleffe this ilke Diomede
Gan on him felfe affure, and thus he feide;
If I aright have taken on you hede
Me thinkith thus, o lady mine Crcfeide!
That fens I firſt hond on your bridil leide,
When I out came of Troie by the morow,
Ne might I nevir fene you but in forow.
I can nat fain what maie the caufè be,
But if for love of fome Trojan it were,
The whiche right fore wouldin athinkin me,
That ye for any wight that dwellith there
Shulden yfpil a quartir of a tere,
Or pitously your felvin fo begile,
For dredeleffe it is nat worthe the while.
The folke of Troie, as who faith al and fome,
In prifon ben, as you your felvin fe,
Fro thennis fhal nat one on livè come
For al the golde atwixin funne and fe;
Truftith wel this, and undirftondith me,
There ſhal nat one to mercy gone on live,
Al were he lord of worldis twifè five.
Such wrech on them for fetching of Heleine
There fhal be take, er that we hennis wende,
That Manes, whiche that goddis ben of Peine,
Shal ben agaft that Grekis wol 'hem fhende;
And men fhal drede unto the world'is ende
From hennis forthe to raviſhe any quene,
So cruil fhal our wreche on them be fene.
And but if Calchas led us with ambages,
That is to faine, with double wordis flie,
Suche as men clepen a word with two viſages,
Ye fhal wel knowin that I do nat lie,
And al this thing right fene it with your eie,
And that anon, ye n'il nat trowe how fone;
Now takith hede, for it is for to done.
What! wenin ye that your wife fathir would
Have yevin Antenor for you anon
If he ne wiftè that the cite ſhould
Diftroyid ben? Why, nay: fo mote I gone
He knew ful wel there fhal nat ſcapin one
That Trojan is, and for the gretè fere
He durft nat that ye dwellid lengir there.
What wol ye more, o lovefome lady dere!
Let Troie and Trojans fro your hertè paffe;
Drive out the bittir hope, and make gode cherc
And clepe ayen the beaute of your face,
That ye with faltè teris fo deface,
For Troie is brought in ſuche a jeopardie
That it to fave is now no remedie.
And thinkith wel ye fhal in Grekis finde
A love more parfite, er that it be night,
Than any Trojan is, and morè kinde,
And bet to fervin you wol don his might;
And if that ye vouchfafe, my lady bright!
I wol ben he to fervin you my felve,
Ye, levir than be lorde of Grecis twelve.
And with that word he gan to waxin red,
And in his ſpeche a litil while he quoke,
And caſt aſide a litil with his hed,
And ſtinte a while, and aftirwarde he woke,
And fobrely on her he threwe his loke,
And ſaid, I am, al be' it to you no joie,
As gentle' a man as any wight in Troic :,
For if my fathir Tydeus, he ſeide,
Ilivid had, tho I had ben er this
Of Calidony' and Arge a king, Crefeide,
And fo hope I that I fhal yet iwis,
But he was flaine, alas! the more harm is,
Unhappily at Thebis al to rathe,
Polynices and many' a man to ſcathe,
"
3
Bake P.
40$
TROILUS AND
CRESEIDE.
But, herté mine! fithe that I am your man,
And ye ben the first of whom I feche grace,
To fervin you as hertely as I can,
And evir fhal while I to live have ſpace,
So that er I depart out of this place
Ye wol me grauntin that I may to morow
At bettir laifir tell you of my forow.
What should I tell his wordis that he feide?
He ſpake inough for o daie at the meft;
It previth wel he ſpake ſo that Crefeide
Graantid on the morow at his request
Forthy to ſpekin with him at the lefte,
So that he n'olde fpekin of fuche matere,
And thus the to him faid, as ye mowe here,
As the that had her hert on Troilus
So faſt yfet that none might it arace,
And ftraungèly ſhe ſpake, and feid: thus :
O Diomede! I love that ilke place
There I was borne, and Jovis of thy grace
Delivre' it fone of al that doth it care:
God for thy might fo leve it wel to fare!
That Grekis wold ther wrath on Troye wreke,
If that thei might, I know it wel iwis;
But it fhal naught befallin as ye ſpeke,
And God toforne; and farthir ovir this
I wote, my fathir wife and redy is,
And that he me hath bought, as ye me tolde,
So dere I am to him the more yholde.
That Grekis ben of high condicioun
I wote eke well, but certaine men fhall finde
As worthy folke within Troiè toun,
As conning, as parfite, and eke as kinde,
As ben betwixin Orcades and Inde;
And that ye couldin wel your lady ferve
I trowe eke wel, her thonke for to deſerve.
But as to ſpeke of love, iwis, fhe feide,
I had a lorde to whom I weddid was,
The whofe mine hert was al til that he deide,
And othir love, as helpe me now Pallas,
There in mine hert ne is ne nevir was;
And that ye ben of noble' and high kinrede
I have wel herde it tellin out of drede.
And that doth me to have fo grete a wonder
That ye wòl ſcornin any woman fo;
Eke God wote love and I ben fer afonder;
I am difpofid bet, fo mote I go,
Unto my deth to plaine and makin wo;
What I fhal aftir done I can nat faie,
But truily as yet me lifte nat plaie.
Mine hert is now in tribulacioun,
And
ye in armis befy daie by daie;
Hereaftir when 'ye wonnin have the toun
Paravintur than fo it happin. maie
That whan I fe that I nevir ere faie
Than wol I werke that I nevir ere wrought;
This word to you inough fuffifin ought.
To morow eke wol I fpeke with you faine,
So that ye touchin nought of this matere,
And whan you lift ye maie come here againe ;
And er ye gon thus muche I faie you here,
As helpe me Pallas with her heris clere,
Yf that I fhould of any Greke have routhe
It ſhould ybe your felvin by my trouthe.
VOL. I.
I faie nat-therfore that I wol you love,
Ne faie nat naie, but, in conclufioun,
I mene wel, by God that fit above;
And therwithal fhe caft her eyin dóun,
And gan to figh, and faide, O Troyè toune!
Yet bidde I God in quiet and in reft
I maie the fene, or do mine hertè breſt.
But in effecte, and fhortely for to faie,
This Diomede al freſhly newe againe
Gan preafin on, and faft her mercy praie ;
And aftir this, the fothè for to faine,
Her glove he toke, of which he was ful faine,
And, finally, whan it was woxin eve,
And al was well, he rofe and toke his leve.
The bright Venus folowid and aie taught
The waie there brodè Phœbus doune alight
And Cytherea her chare-horſe o'r raught
To whirle into the Lioun if fhe might,
And Signifer his candils fhewith bright,
Whan that Crefeidè unto her bed wente
Within her fathir'is faire brightè tente,
Retourning in her foule aie up and doun
The wordis of this fodaine Diomede,
His gret eftate, and peril of the toun,
And that ſhe was alone, and hadde nede
Of frendis helpe, and thus began to drede
The caufis why, the fothe for to tell,
That ſhe toke fully purpoſe for to dwell.
The morow came, and, goftly for to fpeke,
This Diomede is come unto Crefeide;
And, fhortly, left that ye my talè breke,
So wel he for himſelfin ſpake and feide
That al her fighis fore adoun he leide;
And, finally, the fothe for to faine,
He reft her of the grete of alle her pain.
And aftir this the ftory tellith us
That ſhe unto him yave the faire baie ſtede
The whiche fhe onis wan of Troilus,
And eke a broche (and that was litil nede)
That Troilus was, the yave this Diomede,
And eke the bet from forowe' him to releve
She made him were a pencell of her fleve.
I finde eke in the ftory ellis where,
Whan through the body hurt was Diomede,
Of Troilus tho werte the many' a tere,
Whan that the faw his wide woundis blede,
And that the toke to kepin him gode hede,
And for to helin him of his woundis ſmerte:
Men faine, 'I n'ot, that she yeve him her herte,
But truily the ftory tellith us
There madin nevir woman morè wo
Than fhe whan that fhe falfid Troilus;
She faide Alas! for now is clene ago
My name in trouthe of love for evirmo,
For I have falfid one the gentilleft
That ever was, and one the worthieſt.
Alas! of me unto the world'is ende
Shall neithir ben iwrittin or ifong
No gode worde, for theſe bokis woll me fhende;
Irollid fhall I ben on many' a tong,
Throughout the world my beil fhall be yrong,
And women mofte woll hatin me of all;
Alas that foche a caas me ſhould befall!
C،
40%
BORE P
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Thei woll fain, in as mochre as in me is
have 'hem doen difhonour, welawaie!
All be I not the first that did amis,
What helpith that to doen my blame awaie?
But fcès I fe there is no bettir waie,
And that to late is now for me to rue,
'To Diomede I woll algate be true.
But, Troilus, fens I no bettir maie,
And fens that thus departin ye and I,
Yet praie I God fo yeve you right gode daie,
As for the gentilliſt knight truily
'That er I fawe to fervin faithfully,
And beſt can aie his ladie's honour kepe,
(And with that worde fhe braft anon to wepe.)
And certis you ne hatin fhall I never,
And frend'is love that fhall ye have of me,
And my gode worde, all fhould I livin ever;
And truily I would right forie be
For to fein you in adverſite;
And giltileffe I wot well I you leve;
And all fhall paffe, and thus take I my leve;
But truily how long it was bitwene
That the forfoke him for this Diomede
There is none auchour tellith it I wene,
Take every man now to his bokis hede
He fhall no termè findin out of drede,
For though that he began to wowe her fone,
Er he her wan yet was there more to done.
Ne me ne lift this felie woman chide
Ferthir than that the ftorie woll devife;
Her name, alas! is publifhid fo wide
That for her gilt it ought inough fuffife;
And if I might excuſe her in fome wife,
For fhe fo forie was for her untrouthe,
Iwis I would excufe her yet for routhe.
This Troilus, as I before have told,
Thus drivith forth as wel as he bath might,
Bt oftin was his hertè hote and cold,
And namily that ilke ninithe night
Whiche on the morowe ſhe had him behight
To come ayen; God wote full little reft
Had he that night; nothing to flepe him left.
The lauril-crounid Phoebus with his hete
Gan in his courſe aie upward as he went
To warme of the eft fe the wavis wete,
And Circe'is doughtir fong with freſhe entent,
Whan Troilus his Pandare aftir fent,
And on the wallis of the toune thei pleide,
To loke if thei can fene aught of Crefeide;
Till it was none thei ftodin for to fe
Who that there came, and every manir wight
That came fro ferre thei faidin it was ſhe,
'Till that thei couldin knowin him aright :
Now was his hertè dull, now was it light;
And thus bejapid ftodin for to ftare
About naught this Troilus and Pandare.
To Pandarus this Troilus tho feide;
For aught I wot before none fikirly
Into this toune ne comith not Crefeide,
She hath inough to doin hardily
To twinnin from her fathir, ſo trowe I;
Her olde fathir woll yet make her dine
Er that the go; God yeve his hertè pine!
Pandare anſwerd, it may wel ben certain
And forthy let us dine, I the befeche,
And aftir none than maift thou come again:
And home thei go withoutin morè ſpeche,
And comin ayen; but long maie thei feche
Er that thei findin that thei aftir gape;
Fortune 'hem bothe ythinkith for to jape.
(Quod Troilus) I ſe well now that the
Is taryid with her old fathir fo
That er fhe come it woll nigh evin be;
Come forthe, I woll unto the yatè go,
Theſe portirs ben unkonning evirmo,
And I woll docn 'hem holdin up the yate
As naught ne were, although the comin late.
The daie goth faft, and after that came eve,
And yet came not to Troilus Crefeide:
He lokith forth by hedge, by tre, by greve,
And ferre his hedde ovir the wall he leide,
And at the laſt he tournid him, and feide,
By God I wote her mening now, Pandare;
Almofte'iwis all newe was all my care.
Now doutilefs this ladie can her gode;
I wote fhe comith riding privily;
I commendin her wifedome by mine hode;
She woll nat makin peple nicily
Gaure on her whan the cometh, but foftily
By night into the toune fhe thinkith ride,
And, dere brothir! thinke nat long to abide.
We have naught cllis for to doen iwis;
And Pandarus, now wilt thou trowin me,
Have here my trouth I fe her; yond fhe is:
Heve up thine eyin man; maieft thou nat fe?
Pandare answerid, Naie, fo mote I the;
All wrong by God; what ſaiſt thou man? wher art?
That I fe yonde afarre n'is but a carte.
Alas! thou faieft right fothe, (quod Troilus)
But hardily it is not all for nought
That in mine herte I now rejoicè thus;
It is ayenft fome gode: I have a thought,
N'ot I nat how, but fens that I was wrought
Ne felt I foche a comfort dare I faie;
She cometh to night, my life that durft I lay.
Pandare anſwerde, It maie be well inough
And helde with him of all that er he faied,
But in his herte he thought, and foft he lough,
And to himſelf full fobirly he fared,
From hafilwodde, there Joly Robin plaied,
Shall come all that that thou abidift here;
Ye, farwell all the fnowe of fernè yere.
The wardein of the yatis gan to call
The folke which that without the ytis were,
And badde 'hem drivin in their beftis all,
Or all the night thei muft bylevin there;
And ferre within the night, with many' a tere,
This Troilus gan homward for to ride,
For well he feeth it helpith nat to' abide.
But nathèleffe he gladdid him in this,
He thought he mifaccomptid had his daie,
And faied, I underſtande have all amis,
For thilke night I laſt Crefcidè faie
She faied I fhall ben here, if that I maie,
1
Er that the mone, o my dere hertè fwete !
The Lion paffe out of this Ariete :
3
Boke V.
202
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
i
For whiche fhe maie yet hold all her beheſt;
And on the morowe to the yate he went,
And up and doune, by weft and eke by eft,
Upon the wallis made he many' a went;
But al for naught; his hope alway him blent,
For which at night in forow and ſighes fore
He went him home withoutin any more.
This hope all clene out of his hertè fledde,
He ne' hath wheron now lengir for to hong,
But for the pain him thought his hertè bledd,
So wer his throwis fharp, and wondir ftrong,
For whan he fawe that ſhe abode fo long
He ne wift what he judgin of it might,
Sens ſhe hath brokin that the him behight.
The thirde, the fourth, the fifte, and the fixt, daie
Aftir tho dayis tenne of whiche I told,
Betwixin hope and drede his hertè laie,
Yet fomwhat trufting on her heftis old;
But whan he fawe fhe n'olde her termis hold
He can now fene none othir remedie
But for to ſhapin him fone for to die.
Therwith the wickid ſpirit, God us bleffe!
Whiche that men clepin the wode Jaloufie,
Gan in him crepe in all this hevineffe,
For whiche bicauſe he wouldin fonè die'
He n'ete ne dronke for his melancolie,
And eke from every companie he fledde;
This was the life that all this time he ledde,
He fo defuite was that no manir man
Unnethis him might knowin there he went,
So was he lene and therto pale and wan,
And feble, that he walkith by potent,
And with his ire he thus himselfin fhent;
But whofo afkid him wherof him ſmerte,
He faied his harme was all about his herte.
Priam full oft, and eke his mothir dere,
His bretherne and his fuftrin, gan him frain
Why he fo wofuli was in all his chere,
And what thing was the cauſe of al his pain?
But all for naught; he n'olde his caufè plain,
But faied he felt a grevous maladie
About his herte, and fain he wouldè die.
So on a daie he laie him doune to flepe,
And fo bifell it that in flepe him thought
That in a foreft faft he walked to wepe
For love of her that him thefe painis wrought,
And
up and doune as he that foreſt ſought
He met he fawe a bore with tufkis grete
That flept ayenift the bright funn'is hete;
And by this bore, faft in her armis fold,
Laie kifling aie his ladie bright Crefeide,
For forowe' of whiche, whan he it gan behold,
And for difpite, out of his flepe he breide,
And loude he cried on Pandarus, and feide,
O Pandarus! now knowe I crop and rote
I n'am but dedde; there n'is none othir bote.
My ladie bright, Creſeide, hath me betraide,
In whom I truftid mofte of any wight;
She ellifwhere hath now her hert apaied;
The blisfull goddis thorough ther grete might
Have in my dreme ifhewid it full right;
Thus in my dreme Crefeide have I beholde,
And all this thing to Pandarus he tolde.
O my Crefeide! alas! what fabtilte,
What newè luft, what beaute, what fcience,
What wrathe of juſte cauſe have ye unto me?
What gilt of me, what fell experience,
Hath fro me rafte, alas! thine advertence?
O truft! o faithe! quod he', o depe affuraunce!
Who hath me rafte Creſeide, all my plefaunce?
Alas! why let I her from hennis go?
For whiche well nigh out of my wit I breide;
Who fhall now trowe on any othis mo?
God wote I wende, o ladie bright Creteide!
That every worde was goſpell that ye feide:
But who maie bet begile if that him liſt,
Than he on whom men wenin beft to trift?
What fhall I doen, my Pandarus? alas!
I felin now ſo ſharpe a newè pain,
Sens that there is no remedy' in this caas,
That bet were it I with mine hondis twain
My felvin flowe than alwaie thus to plain,
For through the deth my wo fhuld have an ende
There every daie with life my felf I fhende.
Pandare anſwerde and faid, Alas the while.
That I was borne! Have I nat faied er this
That dremis many' a manir man begile
And why? for folke expoundin 'hem amis:
How darft thou fain that falfe thy ladie is
For any dreme? right for thine ownè drede
Let be this thought; thou canst no dremis rede.
Paravinture there thou dremeft of this bore
It maie fo be that it maie fignifie
Her fathir, whiche that old is and cke hore,
Ayen the ſunne lyith on poinct to die,
And the for forowe ginnith wepe and crie,
And kiflith him, there he lieth on the ground
Thus fhuldift thou thy dreme aright expound.
How might I than doin (quod Troilus)
To knowe of this, yea, were nevir fo lite?
Now faieft thou wifely, (quod this Pandarus)
My redy is this, fens thou canst well endite,
That hastily a lettir thou her write,
Thorough which thou shalt wel bringin about
To knowe a foth of that thou art in dout.
And fe now why; for this I dare well fain,
That if fo is that the untrue ybe
I can not trowe that ſhe woll write again;
And if the write thou fhalt full fone ife
As whethir fhe hath any liberte
To come ayen, or ellis in fome clauſe
If the be let ſhe wol affigne a cauſe.
Thou haft not writtin to her fens fhe went,
Nor the to the; and this I durft wele laie,
There maie foche caufè ben in her entent
That hardily thou wolt thy felvin faie
That her abode the beſt is for yoù twaie :
Now write her than, and thou fhalt felè fong
A foth of all; there is no more to done.
Acordid ben to this conclufioun,
And that anon, theſe ilke lordis two,
And hastily fat Troilus adoun,
And rollith in his hertè to and fro
How he maie beft difcrivin her his wo,
And to Crefeidè his owne ladie dere
He wrote right thus, and faid as ye maie here,
-"
Cc ij
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
Boke
The copic of the letter.
Me recommaunde unto
Right fresh flour, whofe I have aye ben and fhall,
Withoutin part of ellifwhere ferviſe,
With herte and bodie, life, luft, thought, and all,
I wofull wight, in every humble wife
That tong can tell or hertè maie devife,
As oft as mattir occupyith place,
your noble
grace.
Likith it you to wetin, fwetê herte!
As ye well knowin, how long time agon
That ye me left in afpre painis fmerte,
Whan that ye wentin, of whiche yet bote non
Have I non had, but evir worfe bigon
Fro daie to daie am I, and fo mote dwell
While it you lift, of wele and wo my well.
For whiche to you with dredefull herte true
I write, as he that forowe driveth to write,
My wo, that every houre encrefith newe,
Complaining as I dare or can endite;
And that defacid is that maie ye wite
The teris which that front mine eyin raim,
That wuldin fpeke if that thei durft and plain.
You first befeche I that your eyin clere
To loke on this defoulid ye nat hold,
And ore all this that ye my ladie dere
Woll vouchfafin this lettir to behold,
And by the caufe cke of my caris cold,
That flaeth my wit, if aught amis me fterte
Foryevith it me, mine owne fwetê herte!
ſervaunt durft or ought of right
Upon his ladie pitoufly complain,
Than wene I that I ought to be that wight,
Confidrid this, that ye theſe monthis twain
Have taried there ye faidin, fothe to fain,
But tenne dayis ye n'olde in hofte fojourne,
But in two monethis yet ye not retourne.
If any
But for as moche as nie mote nedis like
All that you lift I dare nat planin more,
But humbly with forow full fighis fike
You write I mine unreftie forowes fore,
Fro daic to daie defiring evirmore
To knowin fully, if your will it were,
How ye have fared and don while ye be there;
The whofe welfare and hele eke God encrefc
In honour foche, that upward in degre
It growe alwaie, ſo that it nevir cefe;
Right as your herte aic can, my ladie fre,
Devife, I praie to God fo mote it be,
And graunt it that ye fone upon me rewe,
As wifely as in all I'am to you true.
And if you likith knewin of the fare
Of me, whofe wo there maie no wight diſcrive,
I can no more, but cheſt of every carc,
At writing of this lettir Pam on live,
All redy out of my wofull ghoſt to drive,
Whiche I delaie and holde him yet in honde
Upon the fight of nrattir of your fonde.
Mine eyin two, in vain with whiche I fe,
Of forowfull teres falt arn woxin wellis,
My fong in plaint of mine adverfite,
My gode in harme, mine efe eke woxin hel is,
My joie in wo: I can fey now nought ellis
↑
But tournid is, for whiche my life I waric,
Every joie or efe in his contrarie :
Which with your coming home ayen to Troy
Ye maie redreffe, and more a thouſande fithe
'Fhan er I had cncreffin in me joie,
For was there nevir hertè yet fo blythe
To have his life as I fhall ben as fwithe
As I you fe, and though no manir routhe
Can mevin you, yet thinkith on your trouthe.
And if fo be my gilt hath deth deſerved,
Or if you lift no more upon me fe,
In guerdon yet of that I have you ferved
Befeche I you, mine ownè ladie fre
Tha: hereupon you wouldin write to me
For love of Jovis, my right lodè fterre,
That deth maie make an end of al my werre.
If othir caufe aught docth you for to dwel,
That with your lettir ye me reconfort,
For though to me your abſence is an hell,
With pacience I woll my wo comfort,
And with your letter" of hope I woll difport:
Now writith, fwete! and let me thus nat plain;
With hope or deth delivereth me fro pain.
Iwis, mine ownè derè hertè true!
I wot that whan ye next upon me fe,
So loft have 1 mine hele and eke mine hewe,
Crefcidè fhall not conne tho knowin me;
Iwis, mine hert'is daie, my ladie fre!
So thurftith aie mine hertè to behold
Your beaute that unneth my life I hold.
I faie no more, all have I for to ſey
To you well more than that I tellin maie;
But whethir that ye doe me live or dey
Yet praie I God fo yeve you right gode daie :
And farith well, thou godely faire frefhe Maic!
As ye
that life or deth me maie commaunde,
And to your trouth aie I me recommaunde,
With hele foche, that but ye yevin me
The famin hele I fhall non hele yhave:
In you lieth, whan you lift that it fo be,
The daie in whiche me clothin fhall my grave,
And in you my life, in you might to fave
Me fro difefe of all my painis fmerte:
And farith now wele, myne own dere fwete herte!
Le vofre, T.
This lettir forthe was fent unto Crefeide,
Of whiche her aufwere in effect was this;
Full pitoufly fhe wrote ayen, and feide,
That all fo fonè as fhe might iwis.
She would come, and amende that was amis
And, finally, ſhe wrote and fayid then
She would ycome, ye, but the n'ift not when.
But in her lettir madin fhe foche feftes
That wondir was, and fwore fhe loved him beft,
Of whiche he found but botomles biheftes.
But, Troilus, thou maieft now eaft and weft
Pipe in an ivic lefe if that the left :
Thus goth the world; God fhild us fro mifchaunce,
And every wight that menith trouth avaunce!
Encrefin gan the wo fro daie to night
Of Troilus for tarying of Crefcide,
I
Boke P
405
TROILUS
AND CRESEIDE.
And leffin gan his hope and ek his might,
For whiche al doun he in his bedde him leide;
He ne ete, dronke, ne flept, ne wordè feide,
Imagining aie that she was unkinde,
For whiche well nigh he wext out of his mind.
This dreme of whiche I told have eke beforne
Maie nevir come out of his remembraunce;
He thought aie well he had his ladie lorn,
And that Jovis of his hie purveiaunce
Him fhewed had in flepe the fignifiaunce
Of her untrouth and his difavinture,
And that the bore was fhewed him in figure;
For whiche he for Sibylle his fuftir ſent,
That callid was Caffandre' eke all about,
And all his dreme he told her er he ſtent,
And her befought affoilin him the doubt
Of the ftrong bore with all his tufkis ftout;
And, finally, within a litil ftounde
Caffandra him gan thus his dreme expound.
She gan firft fmile, and faid, O brothir dere!
If thou a fothe of this defireft to knowe
Thou muſt a fewe of oldè ftories here,
To purpoſe how that Fortune ovirthrowe
Hath lordis old, through which within a throw
Thou shalt this bore well know, and of what kinde
He comin is, as men in bokis finde.
Diana, whiche that wrothe was and in ire,
For Grekis n'olde doin her facrifice,
Ne encens on her altar fet on fire,
She for that Grekis gon her fo difpife
Ywrake her in a wondir cruill wife,
For with a bore as grete as oxe in ſtall
She made up frete ther corne and vinis all.
To flea the bore was all the countrie reifed,
Emongis whiche there came this borè to fe
A maid, one of this worlde the beſt ipraiſed;
And Meleager, lorde of that countre,
He lovid fo this freſhè maidin fre,
That with his manhode er he wouldè ftent
This bore he flough, and her the hed he ſent.
Of whiche, as oldė bokis tellin us,
There rofe a conteke and a grete envic;
Aud of this lorde difendid Tydeus
By ligne, or ellis oldè bokis lie;
But how this Meleager gan to die,
Thorough his mothir, woll I you not tell,
For all to long it werin for to dwell.
She tolde eke how Tydeus, er ſhe ſtent,
Unto the ſtrongè cite of Thebes
(To claimin kingdome of the cite) went
For his felawè Dan Polynices,
Of whiche the brothir Dan Eteocles
Full wrongfully of 'Thebis held the ſtrength;
This tolde the by proceffe all by length.
She tolde eke how Hemonides afterte
Whan Tydeus flough fiftie knightis ſtoute;
She tolde eke all the prophefies by herte,
And how that fevin kingis with ther rout
Befiegedin the cite all aboute,
And of the holie ferpent, and the well,
And of the Furics all, fhe gan him tell.
Aſſociat profugus Tydeus primo Polynicem,
Tydea legatum docet, infidiafque fecundus,
Tertius Hemoniden can't, I patem latitantem,
Quartus babet Reges ineuntes prælia ſeptem,
Lemniadum Purie quinto narrantur, &angues,
Archemori buftum fexto, ludique leguntur,
Dat Thebis vatem 'Graiorum feptimus umbris,
Odavo cecidit Tydeus,fpes, vita Pelafgum,
Hippomedon nono moritur cum Parthenopeo,
Fulmine percuffus decimo Capaneus fuperatur,
Undecimo fefe perimunt per vulnera fratres,
Argivum fentem narrat duodenus, ignem.
Of Archinorie's burying and the plaies,
And how Amphiaraus fill through the grounde,
How Tydeus was flain, Lord of Argeies,
And how Hipome'don in a litil ſtounde
Was dreint, and dedde Parthenope of wound,
And alſo how Capanëus the proude
With thonder dint was flain, that cryd loude.
She gan eke tell him how that eithir brother,
Eteocles and Polynice alſo,
At a ſcarmiſhe eche of 'hem flough the other,
And of Argivis weping and ther mo,
And how the toun was brent ſhe told eke tho;
And tho difcendid doune from jeftis old
To Diomede, and thus fhe fpake and told:
This ilke bore betokenith Diomede,
Tydens fonne, that doune diſcendid is
Fro Mele'ager, that made the bore to blede,
And thy ladie, where fo the be iwis,
This Diomede her herte hath and ſhe his:
Wepe if thou wolt or leve, for out of dout
This Diomede is in and thou art out.
Thou faieft nat fothe, (quod he) thou forcereffe,
With all thy falfè ghoft of prophecie;
Thou weniſt ben a grete devinereffe,
Now feeft thou nat this fole of fantafie
Pinin her upon ladies for to lie:
Awaie, (quod he) there Jovis yeve the forowe !
Thou shalt be fals para'venture er to morow.
As well thou mightiſt lien on gode Alceſte,
That was of all creturis (but men lie)
That evir werin kindiſt and the beſte,
For whan her huſbonde was in jeopardie
To die himſelf, but if fhe wouldè die,
She chefe for him to die and gon to hell,
And ſtarfe anon, as us the bokis tell.
Caffandre goeth; and he with cruill herte
Foryate his wo for angre of her ſpeche,
And fro his bedde all fodainly he fterte,
As though all whole him had imade a leche,
And daic by daie he gan enquire and feche
A fothe of this with all his beſy cure;
And thus he drivith forthe his avinture.
Fortune, whiche that the permutacion
Of all thinges hath, as it is her committed
Through purveiaunce and difpoficion
Of high Jove, as reignis fhall ben yflitted
Fro folk to folk, or whan thei fhal ben fmitted,
Gan pull awaie the fethirs bright of Troie
'Fro daie to daie, till thei ben bare of joie.
Emong all this the fine of the' jeopardie
Of Hector gan approchin wondir blive,
The Fatis would his foule fhould unbodie,
And ſhapin had a mene it out to drive,
Ayenft whiche fate him helpith not to strive,
С с iij
'406
Boke V
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
But on a daie to fightin gan he wende,
At whiche, alas! he caught his liv'is ende :
For whiche me thinkith every manir wight
That hauntith armis oughtin to bewaile
The deth of him that was fo noble' a knight,
For as he drough a king by th' aventaile,
Unware of this Achilles through the maile
And through the bodie gan him for to rive,
And thus the worthy knight was reft of live;
For whom, as oldė bokis tellin us,
Was made foch wo that tong it maie nat tel,
And naniily the forowe' of Troilus,
That next him was of worthineffe the well,
And in this wo gan Troilus to dwell,
That what for forowe, love, and for unreft,
Full oft a daie he had his hertè breft.
But natheleſſe though he gon him diſpaire,
And drede aic that his ladie was untrue,
Yet aie on her his hertè gan repaire,
And, as theſe lovirs doen, he fought aie newe
To get ayen Crefeid bright of hewe,
And in his herte he went her excufing,
That Calchas caufid all her tarying,
And oftin time he was in purpoſe grete
Him felvin like a pilgrim to difgife
To fene her; but he maie not counterfete
To ben unknowen of folke that werin wife,
Ne finde excufe aright that maie fuffice,
If he among the Grekis knowin werc,
For whiche he wept full oft many a tere.
To her he wrote yet oftin time all newe
Full pitoufly, he left it nat for flouthe,
Befeching her, fithins that he was true,
That she would come ayen and hold her trouth:
For whiche Crefcide upon a daie for routh,
I take it ſo, touching all this mattere
Wrote him ayen, and faied as ye maie here:
Cupid'is fonne, enfample of godelihede,
O fwerde of knighthode, fours of gentilneffe!
How might a wight in turment and in drede,
And heleleffe, you fendin as yet gladneſſe ?
I hertileffe, I ficke, I in diftreffe,
Sens ye with me nor 1 with you maie dele,
You neithir fende I maie ne herte ne hele.
Your lettirs full the papir all iplainted
Commevid havin myne bert'is pite;
I have eke fene with teris all depainted
Your lettir, and how ye requirin me
To come ayen, whiche yet ne maie not be,
But why, left that this lettir foundin were,
No mencioun ne make I now for fere.
Grevous to me (God wote) is your unreſt,
Your haft, and that the goddis ordinaunce
It femith nat ye take it for the beſt,
Nor othir thing n'is in your remembraunce
As thinkith me, but onely your plefaunce;
But beth nat wroth, and that I you befeche,
For that I tarie' is all for wickid fpeche:
For I have herd well more than I wend
Touching us two how thingis have iftond,
Whiche I fhall with diffimuling amende;
And beth not wroth, I have eke undirftond
How ye ne doe but holdin me in honde ;
But now no force; I can nat in you geffe
But alle trouthe and alle gentilneffe.
Comin I woll, but yet in foche disjointe
I ftond as now, that what yere or what daie
That this fhall be that can I nat apointe;
But in effect I praie you as I maie
Of your gode worde and of your frendſhip aie,
For truly while that my life maie dure
As for a frende ye maie in me affure.
I
Yet praie I you on evill ye na take
That it is ſhort whiche that I to you write;
I dare nat there I am well lettirs make,
Ne nevir yet ne could I well endite;
Eke grete effect men writin in place lite;
Th' entent is all, and nat the lettirs ſpace :
And farith well; God have you in his grace!
Le vofire, C.
This Troilus thought this lettir al ftraunge
Whan he it fawe, and forowfully he fight;
Him thought it like a kalendes of efchaunge;
But, finally, he ful ne trowin might
That the ne would him holdin that the hight,
For with ful evill wil lifte him to leve
That lovith wel, in ſuch caſe, though him greve.
But nathèleffe men fain that at the laſt
For any thing men fhal the fothè fe,
And fuche a cafe betide, and that as faſt,
That Troilus wel underftonde that fhe
N'as nat ſo kinde as that her ought to be;
And, finally, he wote now out of dout
That al is loft that he hath ben about.
Stode on a daie in his melancolie
This Troilus, and in ſuſpectioun
Of her for whom he wenid for to die,
And ſo befil that throughout Troiè toun,
As was the gife, iborne was up and doun
A manir cote armoure, as faithe the ſtorie,
Beforn Deiphobe, in figne of his victorie;
The whichè cote, as tellith Lollius,
Deiphobe it had yrente fro Diomede
The famè daie; and when this Troilus
It fawe he gan to takin of it hede,
Aviſing of the length and of the brede,
And al the werke, but as he
gan beholde
Ful fodainly his herte began to colde,
As he that on the coler fonde within
A broche that he Creſeidè yave at morow
That the from Troie toune muſt nedis twin,
In remembraunce of him and of his forow,
And the him laide ayen her faith to borow
To kepe it aie; but now ful wel he wiſt
His lady n'as no longir on to trift.
He goeth him home, and gan ful fone fende
For Pandarus, and al this newè chaunce,
And of this broch he tolde him orde and ende,
Complaining of her hert'is variaunce,
His longè love, his trouth, and his penaunce;
And aftir Deth, withoutin wordis more,
Ful faft he cried, his reft him to reſtore.
Than fpake he thus; O lady mine, Crefeide!
Where is your faith, and where is your beheft?
Where is your love? where is your trouth? he
feide;
Boke P
497
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.'
Of Diomede have ye now al his feft?
Alas! I would have trowid at the left
That fens ye n'olde in trouth to me ſtonde
That ye thus n'olde have holdin me in honde.
Who fhal now trowen on any othis mo?
Alas! I nevir would have wende er this
That ye, Crefeide, coulde have chaungid fo,
Ne but I had agilte and don amis;
So cruel wende I nat your herte iwis
To fle me thus; alas! your name of trouthe:
Is now fordone, and that is al my routhe.
Was there none othir broche you lift to lete
To feffe with your newè love, (quod he)
But thilke broche that I with teris wete
You yave as for a remembraunce of me?
None other caufe, alas! ne haddin ye
But for difpite, and eke for that ye mente
All uttirly to fhewin your entente:
Through which I fe that clene out of your
Ye have me caft, and I ne can nor maie [minde
For all this world within mine herte finde
To' unlovin you a quartir of a daie;
In curfid time I borne was, welawaie!
That you that done me all this wo endure
Yet love I the beft of any creture.
Now God (quod he) me fcndín yet the grace
That I maie metin with this Diomede,
And truily if I have might and ſpace
Yet fhall I make I hope his fidis blede:
Now God (quod he) that aughtiſt takin hede
To forthrin trouthe, and wrongis to punice,
Why n'ilt thou don a vengeaunce of this vice?
O Pandarus! that in dremes for to trifte,
Me blamid haft, and wonte art oft upbreide,
Now maiſt thou fene thy felfe, if that the lift,
How trewe is now thy nece bright Creſeide :
In fondry formis, (God it wote) he feide,
The goddis fhewin bothè joie and tene
In flepe, and by my dreme it is now fene.
And certainly, withoutin morê fpeche,
From hennis forthe, as ferforthe as I maie,
Mine owne deth in armis wol I feche,
I ne retche nat how fone be the daie;
But trewily, Crefeide, fwetè Maie!
Whom I have ay with al my might iferved,
That ye thus done I have it nat deſerved.
This Pandarus, that al theſe thingis herde,
And wifte wel that he faid a fothe of this,
He nat a worde ayen to him anſwerde,
For fory of his frend'is forow' he is,
And fhamid for his nece hath done amis,
And ftante aftonied of theſe caufis twaie
s ftil as ftone; o worde ne coulde he faie,
But at the laft thus he yfpake and feide:
My brothir dere! I may do the no more;
What should I faine? I hate iwis Crefeide,
And God it wote I wol hate her er-more;
And that thou me befoughtift don of yore,
Having unto mine honour ne my reſte
Right no regarde, I did al that the lefte.
Yf I did aught which that might likin the
It is me lefe, and of this trefon now
God wote that it a forow is to me,
1
And dredeleſſe, for hert'is efe of you,
Right faine I would amende it wift I how,
And fro this world Almighty God I praie,
Delivir her fone! I can no more faie.
Great was the woe and plaint of Troilus,
But forthe her courſe Fortune aie gan to holde,
Crefeide lovith the fonne of Tydeus,
And Troilus mote wepe in caris colde :
Such is this worlde, who fo it can beholde;
In eche eſtate is litill hert'is refte;
God leve us to takin it for the befte!
In many cruil bataile, out of drede,
Of Troilus this ilke noble knight
(As men maie in theſe oldè bokis rede)
Was fene his knighthod and his grete might,
And dredèleffe his irè daie and night
Ful cruilly the Grekis aie abought,
And alwaie moft this Diomede he fought.
And oftin timis I finde that thei mette
With blody ftrokis and with wordis grete,
Affaying how ther fperis werin whette;
And God it wote with many' a cruil hete
Gan Troilus upon his helme to bete:
But nathèleffe Fortune it naught ne would
Of eithir's honde that eithir dyin fhould.
And if I had itakin for to write
The armis of this ilke worthy man,
Than would I of his battailis endite;
But for that I to writin firſt began
Of his love, I have faidin as I can
His worthy dedis, who fo lifte 'hem here,
Rede Dares, he can tel 'hem al ifere.
Befeching every lady bright of hewe,
And every gentil woman, what ſhe be,
Al be it that Crefeide was untrewe,
That for that gilt ye be nat wroth with me,
Ye maie her gilte in othir bokis fe;
And gladdir I would writin if you lefte
Of Penelope's trouth and gode Alcofte.
Ne faie I nat this all only for men,
But moſt for women that betrayid be
Through fals folke, God yeve 'hem forrow, Amen!
That with ther gretè witte and fubtilte
Betrayin you, and this commevith me
To fpeke; and in effecte you al I praie
Beth ware of men, and herkenith what I faie :
Go, litil boke, go litill tragedie,
There God my makir yet er that I die
So fende me might to make fome comedie;
But, litill boke, make thou the none envie,
But fubject ben unto al poefie,
And kiffe the ſteppes wher as thou feift pace
Of Virgil, Ovide, Homer, Lucan, Stace.
And for there is fo grete diverfite
In Engliſh, and in writing of our tonge,
So praie I to God that none mifwrite the,
Ne the miffe-metre for defaute of tonge;
And redde where fo thou be or ellis fonge
That thou be undirftonde God I befeche;
But yet to purpoſe of my rathir fpeche.
The wrathe, as I began you for to feie,
Of Troilus the Grekis boughtin dere,
For thoufandis his hondis madin deye,
C c iiij
1
408
Boke
TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
As he that was withoutin any pere,
Save in his time Hector, as I can here;
But welawaie! (fave onely Godd'iş wil)
Difpitously him flough the fierfe Achil
And whan that he was flain in this manere,
His lightè gofte ful blisfully is went
Up to the' holowneffe of the feventh ſphere,
In his place leting everiche element,
And there he fawe, with ful avifèment,
The erratike ſterres, herkening harmonie,
With fownis full of hevins melodie.
And doun from thennis faft he gan aviſe
This litil fpotte of erth that with the ſe
Embracid is, and fully gan diſpiſe
This wretchid world, and helde al vanite
In refpecte of the plaine felicite
That is in heven above, and at the laſt
There he was flaine his loking doun he caft,
And in him felfe he lough right at the wo
Of them that weptin for his dethe fo faft,
And dampnid all our werkes, that foloweth fo
The blindè luft whiche that ne may nat laft,
And fhuldin al our herte on hevin caft;
And forthe he went, fhortily for to tell,
There as Mercury fortid him to dwel.
Suche fine hath, lo! this Troilus for love,
Suche fine hath all his gretè worthineſſe,
Suche fine hath his eſtate royal above,
Suche fine his luft, fuche fine hath his nobleffe,
Suche fine hath this falfe world'is brotilneffe!
And thus began his loving of Crefeide
As I have tolde, and in this wife he deide.
O yonge and freshè folkis, he or she!
In whiche that love up growith with your age,
Repairith home from worldely vanite,
And of your hertes up caftith the viſage
To thilke God that aftir his image
You made, and thinkith al n'is but a faire,
This world that paffith fone, as flouris faire:
And lovith him the whiche that right for love
Upon a croſſe, our foulis for to bey,
Firſt ſtarfe and rofe, and fit in heven above,
For he n'il falfin no wight, dare I fey,
That wol his hert al wholly on him ley;
And fens he beft to love is and moft meke
What nedith fainid lovis for to ſeke?
Lo! here of Päinims curfid oldè rites!
Lo! here what al ther goddis maie availe!
Lo! here this wretchid world'is appetites!
Lo! here the fine and guerdon for travaile
Of Jove, Apollo, Mars, and fuch rafkaile!
Lo! here the forme of olde clerkis fpeche
In poetrie, if ye ther bokis feche!
O, moral Gower! this Boke I directe
To the and to the philofophicall Strode,
To vouchfafe there nede is for to correcte
Of your benignities and zelis gode;
And to the fothfaſt Chriſt, that ſtarfe on rode,
With al mine hert of mercy er I praic,
And to the Lorde right thus I fpeke and faie :
Thou One, and Two, and Thre! eterne on live,
'That raigniſt aie in Thre, and Two, and One!
Uncircumfcript, and all maift circumfcrive,
From vifible and invifible fonc
Defende us in thy mercy everichone !
So make us, Jefus, to thy mercy digne,
For love of maide and mothir thine benigne !
*
TESTAMENT OF CRESEIDE.
409
TESTAMENT OF FAIRE CRESEIDE*.
A DOLY fefon till a carefull dite
Should correfponde and be equivalent;
Right fo it was whan 1 began to write
This tragedy, the weder right fervent,
Whan Aries in middis of the Lent
Showris of haile gan fro the north difcende,
That fcantly fro the cold I might me defende.
Yet nertheleffe within mine orature
I ſtode, whan Titan had his bemis bright
Withdrawin doun, and fcylid undir cure,
And faire Venus the beaute of the night,
Upraife, and fette unto the wefte ful right
Her goldin face, in oppofitioun
Of god Phœbus, directe difcending doun.
Throughout the glaffe her bemis braft fo faire
That I might fe on every fide me by,
The northrin winde hath purified the aire,
And fhedde his mifty cloudis fro the ſkie,
The frofte frefid, the blaſtis bittirly
Fro pole Artike came whifking loud and fhill,
And caufid me remove ayenſt my will:
For I truftid that Venus, Lov'is quene,
To whom fomtime I hight obedience,
My fadid hert of love the would make grene,
And thereupon with humble reverence
I thought to praie her hie magnificence,
But for grete colde as than I lettid was,
And in my chambre to the fire gan pas.
Though love be hote, yet in a man of age
It kindlith nat fo fone as in youthed,
* The Author of The Teftament of Crefcide, which
might pafs for the fixth book of this flory, I have been
informed by Sir James Brifkin late Earl of Kelly, and di-
verfe aged fcholars of the Scottish nation, was one Mr.
Robert Henderſon, chief ſchoolmaker of Dumferlin, a
little time before Chaucer was first printed, and dedicated
to King Henry VIII. by Mr. Thynne, which was near the
end of his reign. Mr. Henderson wittily obferving that
Chaucer in his fifth book had related the death of Trai-
Jus, but made no mention what became of Crefeide, he
learnedly takes upon him, in a fine poetical way, to ex-
prefs the punishment and end due to a falfe unconftant
whore, which commonly terminates in extreme mifery.
Urry,
Of whom the blode is flowing in a rage,
And in the olde the corage dul and ded,
Of whiche the fire outwarde is beſt remed:
To helpe by phifike wher that nature failed:
I am experte, for bothe I have affailed.
I made the fire and bekid me aboute,
Than toke I drinke my fpirites to comforte,
And armid me wel fro the colde theroute:
To cutte the wintir night and make it fhorte
I toke a quere, and lefte al othir fporte,
Writin by worthy Chaucer glorious
Of faire Crefeide and lufty Troilus:
And there I founde aftir that Diomede
Recevid had that lady bright of hewe
How Troilus nere out of his witte abrede,
And wept full fore, with viſage pale of hewe
For which wanhope his teris gan renewe:
While Efperus rejoyfid him againe;
Thus while in joie he lived and while in paine.
Of her beheft he had grete comforting,
Trufting to Troie that the wold make retour,
Whiche he defired most of al erthly thing,
For why he was his onely paramour;
But whan he fawe paffid both day and hour
Of her gaincome, in forowe gan oppreffe
His woful herte in care and hevineffe.
Of his diſtreſſe me nedith nat reherſe,
For worthy Chaucer in that famè boke
In godely termis and in joly verſe
Compilid hath his caris, who will loke:
To break my flepe anothir quere I toke,
In which I founde the fatal deſtiny
Of faire Crefeide, which endid wretchidly.
Who wote if all that Chaucer wrate was trewe?
Nor I wote nat if this narracion
Be authoriſed, or forgid of the newe
Of fome poete by his invencion,
Made to reporte the lamentacion
And wofull ende of this lufty Crefeide,
And what diftreffe ſhe was in or ſhe deide.
410
TESTAMENT OF CRESEIDE
Whan Diomede had al his appetite
And more fulfilled of this faire lady
Upon anothir fette was his delite,
And fende to her a libel repudy,
And her excluded fro his company;
"
Than defolate fhe walkid up and doun,
As fome men faine in the courte as commune.
O faire Creſeide! the floure and a per ſe
ટિ
Of Troie and Grece, how were thou fortunate
To chaunge in filthe al thy feminite,
And be with fleshly luft fo maculate,
And go among the Grekes etly and late
So giglotlike, taking thy foule pleſaunce!
I have pite the fhould fall fuche miſchaunce,
Yet nerthèleffe, what er men deme or fay
In fcornfull langage of thy brutilneffe,
I fhall excufe as ferforth as I may
Thy womanhed, thy wifedome, and fairneffe,
The which Fortune hath put to fuche diftreffe,
As her plefid, and nothing through the gilte
Of the through wickid langage to be ſpilte
This faire lady, on this wife deſtitute
Of al comforte and confolatioun,
Right prively, without felo'wfhip or refute,
Dishevelid, paffid out of the toun
A mile or two unto a manfioun
Bildid ful gaie, where her fathir Calchas
Which than among the Grekis dwelling was.
Whan her he faw the cauſe he gan enquire
Of her coming: fhe faid, fighing ful fore,
For Diomede had gottin his defire
He woxe wery, and would of me no more.
Quod Calchas, Doughtir wepe thou nat therfore,
Paravinture al comith for the beſt:
Welcome; to me thou art ful dere a geft.
This olde Calchas, aftir the lawe was thỏ,
Was kepir of the temple as a prefte
In whiche Venus and her fonne Cupido
Were honourid, and his chambre was neft,
To which Crefeide with bale enewed in breft
Ufid to paffe, her pray irs for to faie,
While at the laſt upon a folempne daie,
As cuſtome was, the peple ferre and nere
Before the none unto the temple went
With facrifice devout in ther manere;
But ftil Crefeide, hevy in her intent,
Into the church would nat herſelf prefent,
For giving of the peple' any deming
Of her expulſe fro Diomede the King,
But paffid into a fecrete oratore,
Where the might wepe her wofull deſtiny;
Behinde her backe fhe clofid faſt the dore,
And on her kneis bare fel doun in hie;
Upon Venus and Cupide angirly
She cryid out, and fayid in this wife,
Alas that er I made you facrifife!
Ye gave me ones a divine refponfaile
That I ſhould be the floure of love in Troie;
Now am I made an unworthy outwaile,
And al in care tranflatid is my joie :
Who fhal me gide? who fhal me now convoie,
Sithe I fro Diomede and noble Troilus
4m clene excluded, abject, odious?
O falfe Cupide! none is to wite but thou,
And the mothir of Love, that blinde goddace ;
Ye cauſed me undirftande alwaie and trow
The fede of love was fowin on my face,
And aie grewe grene thorough your fople grace;
But now, alas! that fede with froft is flaine,
And I fro lovirs lefte and all forlaine.
Whan this was faid, doun in an extaſy,
Raviſhed in ſpirite, in a dreme fhe fel,
And by apparaunce herde where ſhe did lie
Cupide the King tinging a filvir bel,
Which men might here fro hevin into hel,
At whoſe founde before Cupido aperes
The feven planets difcending fro the ſpheres,
Whiche hath powir of al thing gene'rable,
To rule and ftere by their gret influence
Wedir and winde, and courſe variable;
And firſt of al Saturne gave his fentence,
Whiche gave to Cupide litil reverence,
But as a boiftous chorle in his manere
Came crabbidly with auftrine loke and chere.
His face frounfid, his lere was like the lede,
His tethe chattrid, and fhivered with the chin,
His eyin droupid, whole fonkin in his hede,
Out at his nose the mildrop faſt gan rin,
With lippis blew, and chekis lene and thin,
The ifeickils that fro his heer doune honge
Was wondir grete, and as a ſpere as longe;
Attour his belte his liart lockis laie
Feltrid unfaire, or fret with froſtis hore,
His garment and his gite ful gay of graie,
His widrid wede fro him the winde out wore,
A bouſtous bowe within his honde he bore,
Undir his girdle' a fafhe of felone flains
Fedrid with ife and hedid with holftains.
Than Jupiter right faire and amiable,
God of the terris in the firmament,
And norice to al thing generable,
Fro his fathir Saturne farre different,
With burly face, and browis bright and brent,
Upon his hed a garlonde wondris gaie
Of flouris faire, as it had ben in Maie;
His voice was clere, as criſtal was his eien,
As goldin wier fo glittring was his here,
His garment and his gite ful gaie of grene,
With goldin liftis gilte on every gere,
A burly brandy about his middle' he bere,
And in' his right hand he had a groundin fpere,
Of his fathir the wrothe fro us to bere.
Next aftir him came Mars, the god of ire,
Of ftrife, debate, and all difcencioun,
To chide and fight as fierfe as any fire,
In harde harneffe hewmonde and habergioun,
And on his haunch a roufty fel fauchoun,
And in his hande he had a roufty fworde,
Writhing his face, with many angry worde;
Shaking his brande before Cupide he come,
With red vifage and grifly glowing eien,
And at his mouth a blubbir ftode of fome,
Like to a bore whetting his tufkis kene,
Right tulfurelike, but temperaunce in tene,
An horne he blewe with many bouftous bragge,
Whicheal thisworldwithwarte hath made towagge.
TESTAMENT OF CRESEIDE.
411
Than faire Phœbus, lanterne and lampe of light,
Of man and beſt both frute and florishing,
Tendir norice, and banifhir of night,
And of the worlde cauſing by his moving
And influence life in al erthly thing,
Without comforte of whom of force to nought
Muſt go dyin all that this world hath wrought.
As king royall he rode upon a chare,
The whiche Phaeton fomtime gided unright.
The brightneffe of his face whan it was bare
Non might beholde for perfing of his fight,
This goldin carte with firy bemis bright
Foure yokid ftedis ful different of hewe
But baite or tiring through the ſpheris drew.
The firſt was forde, with mane as red as roſe,
Callid Eoye in the orient;
The feconde ſtede to name hight Ethiofe,
Whitely and pale, and fomdele afcendent;
'The third Pyrois, right hote and fervent;
The fourth was blak, and callid Phlegone;
Which rollith Phoebus doun. into the fe.
Venus was there prefent, that goddes gay,
Her fonn'is quarrel to defende, and make
Her owne complaint, cladde in a nice aray,
The one halfe grene, th' othir halfe fable blake,
White heer as gold, kembit and ſhede abake,
But in her face femid grete variaunce,
Whiles parfite truth and whilis inconftaunce.
Undir fmiling fhe was diffimulate,
Provocative with blinkis amorous,
And fodainly chaungid and alterate,
Angry as any ferpent venomous,
Right pungitive with wordis odious;
Thus variaunt fhe was who lift take kepe,
With one eye laugh and with the othir wepe,
In tokening that al flefhely paramour,
Which Venus hath in rule and govirnaunce,
Is fometime fwete, fometime bittir and four,
Right unſtable, and ful of variaunce,
Minglid with careful joye and falſe pleſaunce,
Now hotte, now colde, now blith, now ful of wo,
Now grene as lefe, now widrid and ago.
With boke in hand than come Mercurious,
Right eloquent and ful of rethorie,
With polite termis and delicious,
With penne and inke to reporte al redie,
Setting fongis and finging merily,
His hode was red heclid attour his croun,
Like til a poete of the olde fafioun.
Boxis he bare with fine electuares
And fugrid firopes for digeſtion,
Spicis belonging to the potiquares,
With many wholfome fwete confection,
Doctor in phifike cledde in fcarlet goun,
And furrid wel, as fuche one ought to be,
Honeft and gode, and nat a worde couth lie.
Next after him come Lady Cynthia
The laſte of al, and ſwiftift in her ſphere,
Of colour blake, bufkid with hornis twa,
And in the night the liftith beft t' apere,
Hawe as the leed, of colour nothing clere,
For al the light fhe borroweth at her brother
Titan, for of her felfe fhe hath nop other,
Her gite was gray and ful of ſpottis blake,
And on her breft a chorle paintid ful even,
Bering a buſhe of thornis on his bake,
Whiche for his theft might clime no ner the heven,
Thus when thei gadrid were the goddis feven
Mercurius thei chofed with one affent
To be fore-fpekir in the parliment.
Who had ben there and liking for to here
His faconde tonge and termis exquiſite,
Of rethorike the practike he might lere,
In brefe fermon a preignant fentence write,
Before Cupide, valing his cappe a lite,
Speris the cauſe of that vocacioun,
And he anon fhewde his entencioun.
Lo, quod Cupide, who wol blafpheme the name
Of his owne god either in worde or dede
To al goddis he doeth bothe loffe and ſhame,
And ſhould have bittir painis to his mcde;
I faiè this by yondir wretche Creſeide,
The whiche through me was fomtime flour of love;
Me' and my mothir fhe ftately can reprove,
Saying of her gret infelicite
I was the caufe, and my mothir Venus
She called a blinde goddes and night nat fe,
With fclaundir and defame injurious;
Thus her living unclene and lechirous
She would retorte on me and my mother,
To whom I fhewde my grace above al other.
And fithe ye are al ſevin deficate
Participant of divine fapience,
This gret injury done to' our high eſtate
Me thinke with paine we fhuld make recompence
Was ner to goddis done fuche violence;
As wel for you as for my felfe I faie,
Therfore go help to revenge I you praie.
Mercurius to Cupide gave anſwere,
And ſaid, Sir King, my counfaile is that ye
Referre you to the hyift planet here,
And take to him the lowift of degre,
The paine of Crefeide for to modifie,
As God Saturne with him take Cynthia.
I am content (quod he) to take thei twa.
Than thus procedid Saturne and the Mone,
Whan thei the matir ripely had digeſt,
For the difpite to Cupide that ſhe' had done,
And to Venus opin and manifeft,
In al her life with pain to be opreſt,
And turment fore, with fikeneffe incurable,
And to al lovirs be abhominable.
This doleful fentence Saturne toke in hande,
And paffid doun where careful Crefeide laie,
And on her hed he laide a froſty wande,
Than laufully on this wife gan he ſaie;
Thy grete fairneſſe and al thy beauty gaie,
Thy wanton blode, and eke thy goldin here,
Here I exclude fro the for evirmere:
I chaunge thy mirthe into melancoly,
Whiche is the mothir of al penfiveneffe,
Thy moiftir and thy hete to colde and dry,
Thine infolence, thy plaie and wantonneffe,
To grete difefe, thy pompe and thy richelle
Into mortal nede and grete penurie;
Thou fuffre ſhalt, and as a beggir die.
412
OF CRESEIDE.
TESTAMENT
O cruil Saturne! froward and angrie,
Harde is thy dome and to malicious,
Of faire Crefeide why haft thou no mercie,
Whiche was fo fwete, gentill, and amorous?
Withdrawe thy fentence and be gracious,
A‡you were ner, fo fhewith through thy dede
A wrekeful fentence givin on Crefeide.
Than Cynthia, whan Saturne paſt awaie,
Out of her fete difcendid dounè blive,
And red a bill on Crefeidè where fhe laie,
Containing this fentence diffinitive,
Fro hele of body here I the deprive,
And to thy fikeneffe fhal be no recure,
But in dolour thy dayis to endure;
Thy criftal eyen mengid with blode I make,
Thy voice fo clere unplefaunt here and hace,
Thy luftie lere orfpred with ſpottis blake,
And lumpis hawe appering in thy face,
Where thou comift eche man fhall flie the place;
Thus fhalt thou go begging fro hous to hous
With cuppe and clappir, like a Lazarous.
This dolie dreme, this ugly viſioun,
Brought till an ende, Crefeide fro it awoke,
And all that courte and convocacioun
Vaniſhed awaie; than rofe fhe us and toke
A poliſhed glaffe, and her fhadowe couth loke,
And whan fhe fawe' her viſage ſo deformate
If the in herte were wo I n'ote, God wate.
Weping ful fore, Lo! what it is (quod ſhe)
With froward langage for to move and ſtere
Our crabbid goddes! and fo' is fene on me;
My blafpheming now have I bought ful dere,
All yerthly joie and mirthe I ſet arerc;
Alas this daie, alas this woful tide,
Whan I began with my goddis to chide!
By this was faied a childe came fro the hal
To warne Crefeide the fuppir was redic,
First knockid at the dore, and eft couth call,
Madame, your fathir biddith you cum in hie,
He hath marveile fo long on grofe ye lie,
And faith your bedis beth to long fomdele,
The goddis wote all your entent full wele.
Quod fhe, Faire child, go to my fathir dere,
And praie him come to fpeke with me anon;
And fo he did, and faied, Doughtir, what chere?
Alas! (quod fhe) fathir, my mirthe is gone,
How fo? (quod he) and fhe gan all expone
As I have told, the vengeaunce and the wrake
For her trefpas Cupide on her couth take,
He lokid on her ugly lepir's face,
The whiche before was white as lily flour,
Wringing his handes oftimis faied Alace
That he had lived to fe that wofull hour!
For he knewe well that there was no focour
To her fikneffe, and that doublid his pain:
'Thus was there care inow betwixt 'hem twain,
Whan thei togidir mournid had full lang,
Quod Crefeide, Fathir, I would nat be kende,
Therfore in fecrete wife ye let me gange
To yon hofpitall at the toun'is ende,
And thidir fome mete for charite me fende
To live upon, for all mirth in this yerth
Is fro me gone, foche is my wickid werth.
Whan in a mantill and a bevir hat,
With cuppe and clappir, wondir privily
He' opened a fecrete gate, and out thera
Conveyid her that no man fhould efpie,
There to a village halfe a mile therebie
Delivered her in at the fpittill hous,
And daily fente her pan of his almous.
Sum knew her well, and fum had no knowlege
Of her, bicauſe ſhe was fo deformate,
With bilis blake orfpred in her viſage,
And her faire colour fadid and alt'erate;
Yet thei prefumid for her hie regrate
And ſtill mourning fhe was of noble kin,
With bittir will there thei tokin her in.
The daic paffid, and Phoebus went to rek
The cloudis blake orwhelid all the fkie,
God wote if Crefeide were a forowfull geft.
Seing that uncouth fare and herborie;
But mete or drinke fhe dreffid her to lie
In a darke cornir of the hous alone,
And on this wife weping fhe made her mone.
Here folorvetb the complaint of Crefeide.
O foppe of forowe fonkin into care!
O caitife Crefeide now and evirmare!
Gon is thy joie and al thy mirthe in yerth;
Of all blithneffe now art thou blake and bare;
There is no falve that helpin maie thy fare;
Fell is thy fortune, wickid is thy werthe,
Thy bliffe is baniſhed, and thy bale unberde;
Undir the grete God if I gravin ware
Wher men of Grece ne yet of Troie might herd!
Where is thy chambir wantonly beſene,
With burly bed and blankits broudid bene,
Spicis and wine to thy colatioun,
The cuppis all of gold and filver ſhene,
Thy fwete metis fervid in platis clene,
With favere fauce of a gode faſhioun,
Thy gaie garmentes with many godely goun,
Thy plefaunt laune pinnid with goldin pene?
All is arere thy grete roiall renoun.
Where is thy gardein with thy Grecis gaie,
And freſhe flouris, which the quene Floraie
Had paintid plefauntly in every paine,
Where thou were wont full merily in Maie
To walke, and take the dewe by it was daic,
And here the merle and maviſ many one,
With ladies faire in carolling to gone,
And fe ther roiall renkis in ther raie?
This lepir loge take for thy godely boure,
And for thy bed take now a bounche of ſtre
For wailid wine and metis thou had tho
Take moulid bred, pirate and fidir foure,
But cuppe and clappir is all now ago.
My clere voice and my courtly carolling
Is ranke as roke, full hidous here and bace,
Deformid is the figure of my face,
To loke on it no peple hath liking,
So fped in fight, I laie with fore fighing
Lying emong the lepir folke, Alas!
O ladies faire of Troie and Grece! attende
My freile fortune, mine infelicite,
My grete mifchefe which no man can amend,
And in your minde a mirrour make of me,
TESTAMENT OF CRESEIDE.
413
As I am now paravinture that
ye,
For al your might, may come to the fame ende
Or ellis worſe, if any worſe maie be;
Beware therefore, approchith nere your ende.
Nought is your fairreffe but a fading floure,
Nought is your famous laude and hie honour
But winde inflate in othir mennis eres,
Your rofing redde to roting fhall retoure,
Exemple make of me in your memoure,
Which of foche thingis wofull witnes beres,
Al welth in yerth as wind awaie it weres;
Beware therfore, approchith nere your hour.
Thus chiding with her drerie deſtine
Weping the woke the night fro ende to ende:
But all in vain; her dole, her carefull crie,
Might not remedc, ne yet her mouriring mend;
A lepir ladie roſe and to her wende,
And faied, Why ſpurniſt thou again the wall
To fle thy felf, and mende nothing at all?
Sith that thy weping but doublith thy wo,
I counfaile the make vertue of a nede,
Go lerne to clappe thy clappir to and fro,
And lerne aftir the lawe of lepers lede.
There was no bote, but forthwith than fhe yede
Fro place to place, while cold and hungir fore
Compellid her to be a ranke beggore.
That fame time of Troie the garniſoun,
Whiche had the cheftain worthy Troilus
Through jeoperdy of warre had ſtrikin doun
Knightis of Grece in nombir marvelous,
With grette triumphe and laude victorious
Again to Troie right roially thei rode
The waie wher Crefeide with the lepir ftode.
Seing that companie come with o fteven
Thei gave a crie, and fhoke cuppis, Gode fpede,
Worthie lordis! for Godd'is love of heven
To us lepirs part of your almoſe dede!
Than to her crie noble Troilus toke hede,
Having pite, nere by the place gan pas
Where Crefeide fat, nat weting what he was.
upon
ཟ
Than him fhe keft up bothe her eyen,
And with a blinke it come intill his thought
That he fomtime her face before had fein,
But fhe was in foche plight he knew her nought,
Yet than her loke into his minde he brought,
The fwete vifage and amorous blenking
Of faire Crefeide, fomtime his own derling.
No wondir was ſuppoſe in mind that he
Toke her figure fo fone; and lo! now why
The' idea of a thing in cafe maie be
So depe enprintid in the fantaſie
That it deludith the wittes outwardly,
And fo appereth in forme and like eſtate
Within the minde as it was figurate.
A ſparke of love than til his hert couth fpring,
And kindilid his body in a fire
With hote fevir, in fwette, and trembiling
Him toke, while he was redie to exfpire;
To bere his fhilde his breft begon to tire,
Within a while he chaungid many' a hewe,
And nertheles nat one anothir knewe.
For knightly pite and memoriell
Of faire Creſeide a girdill gan he take,
A purfe of golde, and many a gaie jewell,
*
ſhake,
And in the fkirte of Crefcide doun gan
Than rode awaie, and nat a worde he fpake,
Penfife in herte, while he came to the toune,
And for grete care oft fith almofte fell doune.
The lepre folke to Crefeide then couth draw,
To fe the equall diſtribucioun
Of the almofe; but whan the golde they fawe
Eche one to othir privily gan roun,
And faied, Yon lorde hath more affectioun,
Hower it be, unto yon Lazarous
Than to us all, we knewe by his almous.
What lorde is yon, (quod fhe) have ye no fele,
That doeth to us fo grete humanite?
Yes, quod a lepre man, I knowe him wele,´
Troilus it is, a knight gentle and fre.
Whan Crefeide undirftode that it was he
Stiffir than ftele there fterte a bittir ftound
Throughout her hert, and fill doune to the ground.
Whan fhe, orcome with fighing fore and fad,
With many' a carefull crie and cold atone,
Now is my breft with ſtormie ftoundis ftad,
Wrappid in wo, oh wretchfull will of one!
Than fell in fwoun ful oft or fhe would fone,
And evir in her fwouning cricd fhe thus,
O falſe Crefcide, and true knight Troilus!
Thy love, thy laude, and all thy gentilneffe,
I comptid fmall in my profperite,
So efflatid I was in wantonneffe,
And clambe upon the fickle whele fo hic,
All faithe and love I promittid to the
Was in thy felf fikill and furious;
O falſe Crefeide, and true knight Troilus!
For love of me thou kept thy countinaunce
Honeft and chaft in converſacion;
Of all women protectour and defence
Thou were, and helpid ther opinion:
My minde on flefbly foule affection
Was enclinid to luftis lecherous;
Fie, falfe Crefeide! o true knight Troilus!
Lovirs, beware, and take gode hede about
Whom that ye love, for whan ye fuffre pain
I let you wit there is right fewe throughout
Whom ye maie truſt to have true love agains
Prove whan you woll, your labour is in vain;
Therfore I rede ye take them as ye finde,
For thei are fad as wedircocke in winde
Bicaufe I knowe the grete unstableneffe,
Brittle as glaffe, unto my felfe I faie,
Truſting in othir as grete brutilneffe,
As inconftaunt, and as untrue of faie;
Though fome be true I wot right few ar thei:
Who Endith truthe let him his lady rufe;
None but my felf as now I woll accufe.
Whan this was faid, with papir fhe fat doun
And in this manir made her Teftament;
Here I bequeth my corfe and carioun
With wormis and with todis to be rent,
My cuppe, my clappir, and mine ornament,
And all my gold, thefe lepre folke ſhall have,
Whan I am dedde to burie me in grave.
This roiall ring, fet with this rubie redde,
Whiche Troilus in dowrie to me fende,
To him again I leve it whan I am dedde,
}
414
OF CRESEIDE.
TESTAMENT
To make my careful deth unto him kende:
Thus I conclude ſhortly and make an ende;
My fp'rit I leve to Diane, where ſhe dwelles,
To walke with her in waft wódis and welles.
O Diomede! thou haſt bothe broche and belte
Whiche Troilus gave me in tokining
Of his true love; and with that worde fhe fwelt.
And fone a lepirman toke off the ring,
Than buried her withoutin tarying;
To Troilus forthwith the ring he bare,
And of Crefeide the deth he gan declare.
J
Whan he had herd her grete infirmite,
Her legacie, and lamentacioun,
And how the endid in fuch poverte,
He fwelte for wo, and fell doune in a fwoun,
For forowe his hertè to braft was boun,
Sighing full fadly faied I can no more,
She was untrue, and wo is me therfore.
Some faith he made a tombe of marble graic,
And wrote her name and fuperfcripcioun,
And laid it on her grave whereas the laie,
In golden lettirs, conteining this refoun;
Lo! faire ladies, Crefeide of Troiè toun,
Somtime comptid the floure of womanhed,
Undir this ftone, late lepir, lyith dedde!
Now worthy women, in this balade ſhort,
Made for your worſhip and inftruction,
Of charite I monifhe and exhorte,
Minge nat your love with falſe diſcepcion,
Bere in your minde this fore conclufion
Of faire Crefeide as I have faied before;
Sith fhe is dedde I fpeke of her no more,
1
1
1
LEGENDE OF GOOD WOMEN.
AI3
་
te
THE LEGENDE OF GOOD WOMEN.
A THOUSAND timis I have herd men tell
That there is joie in heven and pain in hell,
And I acord it wele that it is fo,
But pathèleffe yet wot I wele alſo
That there n'is non dwelling in this countre
That eithir hath in heven or hell ibe,
Ne maie of it none othir waies wittin
But as he herd faied or found it writtin,
For by affaie there maie no man it
preve.
But God forbede but that men fhuldin leve
Well more thing than thei han feen with eye!
Men fhall nat wenin every thing a lie
But if himſelf it feeth or els it doeth,
For God wote thing is nevir the leffe foth
Though every wight ne maie it not iſe.
Bernarde the monke ne faugh not all parde,
Than motè we to bokis that we finde,
(Through which the oldè thingis ben in minde)
And to the doctrine of theſe olde wife,
Yeve credence in every ſkilfull wife,
That tellin of thefe old apprevid ftories
Of holines, of reignis, of victories,
Of love, of hate, and othir fondrie thinges,
Of whiche I maie not makin reherfinges;
And if that olde bokis were awaie
I lorne were of all remembraunce the kaie.
Well ought us than honourin and beleve
Theſe bokis there we han none othir preve.
And as for me, though that I can but lite,
On bokis for to rede I me delite,
And to 'hem yeve I faithe and ful credence,
And in mine herte have 'hem in revèrence
So hertily, that there is gamè none
That fro my bokis makith me to gone,
But it be feldome, on the holie daie,
Save certainly whan that the month of Maic
Is comin, and I here the foulis fing,
And that the flouris ginnin for to fpring,
Some ladies in the court took offence at Chaucer's
large speeches against the untruth of women, therefore the
Queen enjoined him to compile this book in the com-
niendation of fundry maidens and wives who thewed
themſelves laithful to faithlefs men. This feems to have
been written after The Flower and the Leaf.
Farewell my boke and my devocion,
Now have I than eke this condicion,
That above all the flouris in the mede
Than love I mofte theſe flouris white and rede,
Soche that men callin Daifies in our toun;
To them have I fo grete affectioun,
As I faied erft, whan comin is the Maic,
That in my bedde there dawith me no daie
That I n'am up and walking in the mede
To fene this floure ayenſt the funnè ſprede
Whan it uprifith erly by the morowe;
That blisfull fight foftinith all my forowe;
So glad am I when that I have preſence
Of it to doin it all revèrence,
As fhe that is of all flouris the floure,
Fulfillid of all vertue and honoure,
And evir ilike faire and freſhe of hewe
As wel in wintir as in fummir newe;
This love I evre', and ſhall until I die,
All fwere I not of this, I woll nat lie.
There lovid no wight hottir in his life;
And whan that it is eve I rennè blithe,
As fone as evir the funne ginnith weſt,
To fene this floure how it woll go to reft;
For fere of night, ſo hatith the derkneffe,
Her chere is plainly fpred in the brightneffe
Of the funnè, for there it woll unclofe:
Alas that I ne' had Engliſhe, rime, or proſe,
Suffifaunt this floure to praife aright!
But helpith ye that han conning and might,
Ye lovirs, that can make of fentiment;
In this cafe ought ye to be diligent
To forthrin me fomwhat in my labour,
Whether ye ben with the Lefe or the Flour,
For well I wote that ye han here beforne
Of making ropen and lad awaie the corne,
And I come aftir glening here and there,
And am full glad if I maie finde an ere
Of any godely worde that ye han lefte;
And though it happe me to reherfin eft
That ye han in your frefhè fongis faied
Forberith
me, and beth not ill apaied,
Sith that ye fe I doe it in the' honour
Of Love, and cke in fervice of the flour,
1
!
+1
416
GOOD WOMEN.
LEGENDE OF
Whom that I ferve as I have wit or might;
She is the clereneffe and the very light
That in this derke world me windith and ledeth;
The hert within my wofull breft you dredeth
And loveth fo fore, that ye ben verily
The maiftris of my wit and nothing I ;
My worde, my workes, is knit fo in your bonde,
That as an harpe obeyith to the honde,
And makith foune aftir his fingiring,
Right fo mowe ye out of mine hertè bring
Soch voice right as you lift to laugh or pain;
Be ye my guide and ladie fovèrain :
As to mine yerthly god to you I call
Bothe in this werke and my forowis all.
But wherfore that I fpake to yeve credence
To old ſtories, and doen 'hem revèrence,
And that men muftin more thing bileve
Than men may fene at eye or ellis preve,
That fhall I fein whan that I fe my time;
I maie not all at onis fpeke in rime;
My bufic ghoſt, that thurſtith alwaie newe
To fene this flour fo yong, fo freſhe of hewe,
Conftrainid me with fo gredie defire
That in mine herte I felin yet the fire
That made me to riſe er it were daie,
And this was now the first morowe of Maie,
With dredfull herte and glad devocion
For to ben at the refurrection
Of this floure, whan that it fhould uncloſe
Again the funne, that rofe as redde as roſe,
That in the brefſt was of the beſt that daie
That Agenor'is doughtir ladde awaie;
And doune on knees anon right I me ſette,
And as I could this frefhè floure I grette,
Kneling alwaie till it unclofid was
Upon the ſmall, and ſoft, and ſwetè gras,
That was with flouris fwete embroudid al,
Of ſoche fwętneffe and foche odour oer all
That for to ſpekin of gomme, herbe, or tre,
Compariſon maie none imakid be,
For it furmountith plainly all odoures,
And of riche beaute the moſt gaye of floures.
Forgottin had the yerth his pore eftate
Of wintir, that him nakid made and mate,
And with his fworde of colde fo forè greved;
Now hath the' atempre fonne al that releved
That nakid was, and clad it newe again ;
The fmalle foulis, of the fefon fain,
That of the panter and the net ben fcaped,
Upon the foulir that 'hem made awhaped
In wintir, and deſtroyid had ther brode,
In his difpite them thought it did 'hem gode
To fing of him, and in ther fong difpife
The foule chorle that for his covitife
Had 'hem betrayid with his ſophiſtrie :
This was ther fong; The foulir we defie,
And all his crafte: and fome yfongin clere
Layis of love, that joie it was to here,
In worshipping and praifing of her make,
And for the newè blisfull fomir's fake;
Upon the braunchis full of blofmis foft
In ther delite thei tournid 'hem full oft,
And fongin, Bliflid be Saint Valentine!
For on his daie I chefe you to be mine,
Withoutin repenting, mine hertè fwete!
And therwithall their beckis gonnin mete,
Yelding honour and humble obeifaunce
To Love, and didden ther othir obfervaunce
That longith unto love and to nature;
Conftrewe that as you lift; I doe no cure:
And tho that had doin unkindèneffe,
As doeth the tidife for newefangelneffe,
Befoughtin mercie of ther trefpafing,
And humilly fongin ther repenting,
And fworin on the blofmis to be true,
So that ther makis would upon 'hem rue :
And at the laft thei madin ther acorde,
All found thei Daungir for the time a lorde
Yet Pite thorough his ftrong gentill might
Foryave, and made mercy paflin right
Through Innocence and rulid Curtefie;
But I ne clepe nat innocence folie,
Ne falfe pite, for vertue is the mene,
As Ethicke faieth, in foche manir I mene
And thus theſe foulis, voide of all malice,
Accordidin to love, and laftin vice
Of hate, and fongin all of one acorde,
Welcome Sommir, our governour and lorde!
And Zephyrus and Flora gentilly
Yave to the flouris foft and tendirly
Ther fotè breth, and made 'hem for to fprede,
As god and goddeſſe of the flourie mede,
In whiche me thought I might daie by daie
Dwellin alwaie the joly monthe of Maie
Withoutin flepe, withoutin mete or drinke :
Adoune full foftily I gan to finke,
And lening on my elbowe and my fide
The longè daie I ſhope me for to' abide,
For nothing ellis, and I ſhall nat lie,
But for to lokin upon the Daifie,
That well by refon men it calle maie
The Daific, or 'els the eye of the daie,
The emprife, and the floure of flouris all
I praie to God that fairè mote fhe fall,
And all that lovin flouris for her fake!
But natheleffe ne wene nat that I make
In praifin of the Floure again the Lefe
No more than of the corne again the ſheſe,
For as to me n'is levir none ne lother;
I n'am witholdin yet with neithir nother,
Ne' I n'ot who fervith Lefe ne who the Floure;
Well broukin thei ther ſervice or laboure;
For this thing is all of anothir tonne,
Of old ftorie, er foche thing was begonne.
Whan that the funne out of the fouth gan weft,
And that this floure gan clofe and gon to reft,
For derknes of the night the whiche fhe drede,
Home to mine houfe full ſwiftly I me fpede
To gone to reft, and erly for to rife
To fene this floure to fprede as I deviſe;
And in a little herbir that I have,
That benchid was of turvis freſh igrave,
I bad men fhouldin me my couche make;
For deinte of the newè fommir's fake
I bad 'hem ftrawin flouris on my bedde :
Whan I was laied and had mine eyin hedde
I fell aflepe, and ſlept an houre or two,
Me met how I laie in the midowe the
LEGENDE OF
417
GOOD WOMEN.
•
To fene this floure that I love fo and drede,
And from aferre came walking in the mede
The god of Love, and.in his hande a quene,
And the was clad in roiall habite grene,
A fret of golde fhe had next her here,
And upon that a white coroune fhe bere
With flourounis fmall, and, I fhali nat lie,
For all the worldè right as a Daifie
Icrounid is, with white levis lite,
So were the florouns of her crounè white,
For of o perl fine orientall
Her white coroune was imakid all,
For which the white coroune above the grene
Ymade her like a Daifie for to fene,
Confidrid eke her fret of gold above;
Iclothid was this mightie god of Love
In filke embroidid, full of grenè greves,
In whiche there was a fret of red rofe leves,
The freſhift fens the worlde was firſt bigon;
His gilt here was ycrounid with a fon
In ftede of gold, for hevineffe and weight,
Therwith me thought his face fhone fo bright
That well unnethis might I him behold,
And in his hand methought I fawe him hold
Two firie dartis as the gledis rede,
And angelike his wingis fawe I fprede;
And all be that men fain that blinde is he
Algatis me thought that he might wele fe,
For fternily on me he gan behold,
So that his loking doeth min hertè cold;
And by the hande he helde this noble quene,
Crounid with white, and clothid al in grene,
So womanly, fo benigne, and fo meke,
That in this worlde though that men woldin feke
Halfe her beaute ne fhouldin thei nat finde
In creture that yformid is by Kinde,
And therfore maie I fain, as thinkith me,
This fong in praifing of this ladie fre:
Hide, Abfolon, thy giltè treffis clere,
Hefter, laie thou thy mekeneffe all adoun,
Hide, Jonathas, all thy frendly manere,
Penelope, and Marcia Catoun,
Make of your wifehode no comparifoun,
Hide ye your beauties Ifoude and Helein,
My ladie cometh, that all this maie diſtain,
Thy faire bodie ne let it not appere
Lavine, and thou Lucrece of Rome toun,
And Polyxene, that boughtin love fo dere,
And Cleopatra, with all thy paffioun,
Hide ye your trouthe of love and your renoun,
And thou Thiſbe, that haft of love foche pain,
My ladie cometh, that all this maie diftain.
Hero, Dido, Laodomia', ifere,
And Phyllis, hanging for Demophoon,
And Canace, efpyid by thy chere,
Hypfipyle, betrayid by Jafon,
Makith of your trouth neithir boſte ne foun,
Nor Hypermneftra' or Ariadne, ye twaine,
My ladie cometh, that all this maie diſtain.
This balade maie full well ifongin be,
As I have faid erft, by my ladie fre,
For certainly all thefe mowe not fuffice
To' apperin with my ladic in no wiſe,
VOL. I.
For as the funnè woll the fire diſtain,
So paffith all my ladie fovèrain,
That is fo gode, ſo faire, ſo debonaire,
I praie to God that evir fall her faire !
For ne had comiort ben of her prefence
I had ben dedde without any defence
For drede of Lov'is wordis and his chere,
As whan time is hereaftir ye shall here.
Behinde this god of Love upon the grene
I fawe coming of ladyis ninetene,
In roial habit, a full efie pace,
And aftir them of women foche a trace
That fens that God Adam had made of yerth
The thirdè part of mankinde, or the ferth,
Ne wende I nat by poſſibilite
Had evir in this wide worlde ibe,
And true of love thefe women were echon:
Now whether was that a wondir thing or non,
That right anon as that thei gonne efpie
This floure whiche that I clepe the Daiſie,
Full fodainly thei ſtintin all at ones,
And knelid doune as it were for the nones,
And fongin with o voice, Hele and honour
To trouth of womanhede, and to this flour,
That berith our aldir prife in figuring,
Her white coroune berith the witneſſing !
And with that worde a compas enviroun
Thei fittin 'hem full foftily adoun :
Firſt fat the god of Love, and fith his quene,
With the white coroune, yclad all in grene,
And fithin all the remnaunt by and by,
As thei were of eftate, full curtiſly;
Ne nat a worde was ſpokin in the place
The mountenance of a furlong waie of ſpace,
I kneling by this floure in gode entent
Abode to knowin what this peple ment
As ftill as any ftone, till at the laſt
This god of Love on me his eyin caſt,
And faid, Who knelith there? and I anſwerd
Unto his afking whan that I it herde,
And faied, Sir, It am I, and come him nere,
And falued him. (Quod he) What doeſt thou here
So nigh mine ownè floure fo boldily?
It werin bettir worthy truily
A worme to nighin nere my flour than thou.
And why, Sir, (quod I) and it likith you?
For thou (quod he) art therto nothing able;
It is my relike digne and delitable,
And thou my fo, and all my folke werrieſt,
And of mine old fervauntis thou miffaieft,
And hindrift 'hem with thy tranflacion,
And lettiſt folke from ther devocion
To fervin me, and holdift it folie
To fervin Love; thou maieft it nat denie,
For in plain text, withoutin' nede of glofe,
Thou' haft tranflatid The Romaunt of the Roſe,
That is an herefie ayenft my lawe,
And makift wife folke fro me to withdrawe;
And of Crefeide thou haft faide as the lift,
That makith men to women leffe to trifte,
That ben as trewe as er was any ſtelę :
Of thine anfwere avifin the right wele,
For though that thou renyid haft my lawe
As othir wretchis have done many' a daie,
D d
418
LEGENDE OF GOOD WOMEN.
By Seint Venus, which that my mothir is,
If that thou live thou fhalt repentin this
So cruilly that it fhal wel be fene.
Tho ſpake this lady, clothid all in grene,
And fayid, God, right of your curtifie
Ye mote herkin if that he can replie
Ayenft al this that ye have to him meved;
A God ne fhouldè nat be thus agreved,
But of his deite he fhall be ftable,
And therto gracious and merciable,
And if ye n'ere a god that knowin all
Than might it be, as I you tellin fhall,
This man to you maie falfely ben accuſed,
That as by right him oughtin ben excufed,
For in your court is many' a loſingeour,
And many a queint totoler accufour
'That tabouren in your eris many' a foun
Right after ther imaginacioun
To have your daliaunce, and for envy;
Thefe ben the caufis, and, 1 fhal nat lie,
Envie is lave'ndir of the court alwaie,
For fhe ne partith neithir night ne daie
Out of the houſe of Cæfar, thus faith Dant,
Who fo that goeth algate fhe wol nat want.
And cke peraunter for this man is nice
He mightin done it, geffing no malice,
But for he ufith thingis for to make
Him reckith nought of what matir he take,
Or him was bodin makin thilkè twey
Of ſome perfone, and durft it nat withſey,
Or him repentith uttirly of this,
He ne' hath nat done fo grevouſly amis
To tranflatin that olde clerkis writen,
As though that he of malice would endíten
Difpite of Love, and had himſelfe it wrought;
This fhould a rightwife lorde have in his thought,
And nat be like tirauntes of Lombardie,
That han no rewarde but at tirannie;
For he that king or lorde is naturel,
Him ought not be a tiraunt ne cruel
As a fermour, to done the harme he can,
He muſt thinkin it is his liegė man,
As is his trefour, and his golde in cofer,
This is the fentence of the philofopher;
A kinge to kepe his liegis in juſtice,
Withoutin doutè that is his office,
Al wol he kepe his lordes in ther degre,
As it is right and ſkil that thei ſhoulde be
Enhaunfid and honourid, and moſt dere,
For thei ben halfegoddis in this world here,
Yet mote he done both right to pore and riche,
Al be that ther eftate be nath both liche, .
And have of povir folke compaffion;
For lo the gentil kinde of the lion!
For whan a flie offendith him or biteth
He with his taile awaie the filie yfmiteth
Al efily, for of his gentèrie
Him deinith nat to wrekë him on a flie,
As doeth a curre or els anothir beſt ;
In noble corage ought to ben areſt,
And wayin every thinge by equite,
And have regarde unto his owne degre;
For, Sir, it is no maiftrie for a lorde
To dampne a man without anfwere of word
And for a lorde that is ful foule to fe
And it ſo be he maie him nat excufe,
But afkith mercy with a dredeful herte,
And profirith him right in his bare fherte
To ben right at your ownè jugèment,
Than ought a god by fhort avifèment
Confidre' his owne honour and his treſpace,
For fith no caufe of deth lieth in this cafe
You ought to ben the lightlier merciable:
Lettith your ire, and beth fomwhat tretable;
The man hath fervid you of his conninges,
And forthrid well your law in his makinges;
Al be it that he can nat wel endite,
Yet hath he madin leude folke delite
To fervin you, in preifing of your name;
He made the boke that hight The Houfe of Fame,
And eke The Deth of Blaunche the Ducheffe,
And The Parliament of Foulis, as I geffe,
And al The Love of Palamon and Arcite
Of Thebis, though the ftorie is knowen lite,
And many an hymne for your holy daies,
That hightin Balades, Rondils, Virèlaies;
And for to fpeke of othir holineffe,
He hath in profe tranflatid Bocce,
And made The Life alfo of Saint Cecile,
He madin alfo, gon is a greate while,
Origines upon the Maudelaine,
Him oughtin now to have the lefè paine;
He hath made many' a ley and many' a thing.
Now as ye be a god and eke a king,
I your Alcefte, whilom Quene of Thrace,
I afke you this man right of your grace
That ye him nevir hurte in al his live,
And he thal fwerin to you, and that blive,
He fhal ner more agiltin in this wife,
| But fhal makin as ye wol him devife
Of women trewe in loving al their life,
Where fo ye wol of maidin or of wife,
Aud forthrin you as muche as he miffeide
Or in The Rofe, or ellis in Crefeide.
The god of Love antwerde her thus anon
Madame, (quod he) it is fo longe agon
That I you knew fo charitable' and trewe,
That nevir yet fithin the worlde was newe
To me ne founde I hettir none than ye;
If that I wol yfavin my degre
I may nor wol nat werne your request;
Al licth in you; doth with him as you left.
I al foryeve withoutin lengir ſpace,
For who fo yeveth a yefte or doth a grace
Do it betime, his thanke fhal be the inore,
And demith ye what he fhal do therefore.
Go, thankith now my lady here (quod he.)
I rofe, and down I fet me on my kne,
And fayid thus; Madame, the God above
For yelde you that ye the god of Love
Have makid me his wrath to foryeve,
And give me grace fo longè for to live
That I maie know fothily what ye be
That have me holpen and put in this degre!
But trewily I wende as in this caas
Nought have agilte ne done to Love treſpas;
For why? a trew è man withoutin drede
Hath nat to partin with a thev'is dede;
LEGENDE OF
419
GOOD WOMEN.
Ne a trewe lovir ought me not to blame
Though that I fpeke a falfe lovir fome flame,
Thei oughtin rather with me for to hulde
For that I of Crefeide wrote or tulde,
Or of the Rofe; what fo mine author ment
Algatis God wote it was mine entent
To forthrin trouth in love, and it cherice,
And to ben ware fro falfeneffe and fro vice,
By whiche enfample this was my mening.
And the anſwerde, Let be thine arguing,
For Love ne wol not countirpletid be
In right ne wrong, and lerne that of me :
Thou haft thy grace, and holde the right therto;
Now woll I faine what penaunce thou shalt do
For thy trefpace: Underftandith it here
Thou shalt while that thou livit yere by yere
The mofte partie of thy time ipende
In making of a glorious Legende
Of Gode Women, both maidinis and wives,
That werin trewe in loving all ther lives;
And tellin of falfe men that 'hem betraien,
'That al ther life ne do nat but affaien
How many women thei maie done a fhame,
For in your world that is nat holde a game;
And though that the like nat a lovir be
Speke wel of love, this penaunce yeve I the,
And to the god of Love I fhai ſo prais
That he fhal charge his fervantes by' any waie
To forthrin the, and wel thy labour quite ;
Go now thy waie, this penaunce is but lite;
And when this boke is made yeve it the Quene
On my behalfe, at Eltham or at Shene.
The god of Love gan finile, and than he feide;
Woft thou (quod he) wher this be wife or maide,
Or quene or counteffe, or of what degre,
That hath fo litill penaunce yevin the,
That haft defervid forely for to ſmerte?
But pite rennith fone in gentle herte,
That maift thou fent; fhe kithith what ſhe is.
And I anſwerde, Naie, Sir, fo have I blis,
No more but that I fe wel fhe is gode.
That is a trewè talè by mine hode
(Quod Love) and that thou knowift wel parde,
If it be fo that thou avife the:
Halt thou nat in a boke in thy chefte
The gretè godeneffe of the Quene Alcefte,
That turnid was into a Däifie,
She that for her huſbonde cheſe to die,
And eke to gone to hell rathir than he,
And Hercules refcuid her parde,
And brought her out of hel againe to blis?
And I anfwerde againe, and fayid, Yes;
Now know I her; and is this gode Alcette,
The Däiefie, and mine owne hert'is refte?
Now fele I wel the godeneffè of this wife,
That both aftir her deth and in her life
Her gretè bounte doublith her renoun,
Wel hath the quit me mine affectioun
That I have to her floure the Däiefie;
No wondir is though Jove her stellifie,
A's tellith Agaton, for her godeneſſe,
Her white corowne berith of it witneſſe,
For all fo many virtuis had fhe
As fmal florounis in her crowne be;
In remembraunce of her and in honour
Cybilla made the Däiefie, and the flour
Icrownid all with white, as men maie fe,
And Mars yave her a corown red parde,
In ftede of rubies fet among the white;
Therwith this quene woxe'red for fhame ali
Whan fhe was praifid fo in her prefence.
Than fayid Love, A ful grete negligence
Was it to the, that ilkè time thou made
(Hide, Abfolon, thy treſſis) in balade,
That thou forgette her in thy fonge to ſette,
Sith that thou art fo gretly in her dette,
And wotiît wel that kalender is fhe
To any woman that wol lovir be,
For the taught all the crafte of trewe loving,
And namily of wifehode the living,
And all the bondis that the ought to kepe;
Thy litil witte was thilke time aflepe;
But now I charge the upon thy life
That in thy Legende thou make of this wife,
Whan thou haft othir fmale imade before;
And fare now wel, I charge the no more,
But er I go this muche I wol the tel,
Ne fhal no trewè lovir come in hel.
Thefe othir ladies fitting here arowe
Ben in my balade, if thou conft 'hem knowe,
And in thy bokis al thou shalt 'hem finde,
Have 'hem now in thy Legende al in minde,
I mene of them that ben in thy knowing,
For here ben twenty thouſande mo fitting
Than that thou knowift, and gode women al,
And trewe of love, for ought that maic befal;
Makith the metris of 'hem as the lefte,
I mote gone home, the funnè drawith weſte,
To Faradis, with al this companie,
And fervin alwaie the freſh Däiſie :
At Cleopatra' I wol that thou beginne,
And fo forthe, and my love fo fhalt thou winne;
For let fe now what man that lovir be
Wol done fo ftrong a paine for love as fhe.
I wote wel that thou maicit not al it rime
That fuche loviris diddin in ther time;
It were to longe to redin and to here;
Sufffith me thou make in this manere,
That thou reherce of al ther life the grete,
Aftir thefe oide authors lifte for to trete;
For who fo fhal fe many' a ftorie tel
Sey ſhortily, or he ſhal to longe dwell.
And with that wordt my bokis gan I take,
And right thus on my Legende gan I make.
D dij
'420
LEGENDE OF CLEOPATRA, QUENE OF EGYPTE.
HERE BEGINNETH
THE LEGENDE OF CLEOPATRA,
QUENE OF EGYPT E.
AFTER the dethe of Ptolemy the King,
That all Egypt had in his governing,
Reignid his fuftir Quene Cleopatras,
Til on a time bifel there fuche a caas
That out of Rome was fent a fenatour
To conquerin relmis, and bring honour
Unto the toune of Rome, as was ufaunce,
To have the worlde at her obëilaunce,
And, fothe to faie, Antonius was his name.
So fil it, as Fortune him ought a fhome,
Whan he was fallin in profperite
Rebel unto the toune of Rome is he,
And or al this the fuftir of Cæfare
He left her falfely, er that fhe was ware,
And would algatis han anothir wife,
Of thing that berith more effecte and charge,
For men maie ovirlade a ſhippe or barge;
And forthy to effecte than wol I ſkippe,
And al the remnaunt I wol let it flippe.
Octavian, that wode was of this dede,
Shope him an hofte on Antony to lede,
Al uttirly for his diftruction,
With ftoute Romainis, cruil as lion:
To fhip thei went; and thus I let 'hem faile.
Antonius was ware, and wol not faile
To metin with thefe Romaines if he maie,
Toke eke his rede, and both upon a daie
His wife and he, and al his hoft, forth went
To fhip anone, no lengir thei ne ftent,
And in the ſe it happid 'heir to mete;
For whiche he toke with Rome and Cæfar ftrife. Up goeth the trumpe, and for to ſhoute and ſhete,
Natheleffe, for fothe this ilke fenatour
Was a ful worthy gentil werriour,
And of his deth it was ful grete damage;
But Love had brought this man in fuch a rage,
And him fo narow boundin in his laas,
And al for the love of Cleopatras,
That al the world he fet at no value;
Him thought there was nothing to him fo due
As Cleopatras for to love and ferve;
Him rough:è nat in armis for to ſterve
In the defence of her and of her right.
This noble Quene eke lovid fo this knight
Through his deferte and for his chivairie,
As certainlie, but if that bokis lie,
He was of perfon and of gentilneffe,
And of difcretion and of hardinefle,
Worthy to any wight that livin maie,
And ſhe was faire as is the roſe in Maic;
And, for to makin fhorte is the beft,
She wore his wife, and had him as her left.
The wedding and the feftè to devife,
To me that have itakin fuche emprife
Of fo many a ſtorie for to make,
It were to longe, left that 1 fhouldè flake
And painin 'hem to fet on with the funne;
With grifly foune out goith the grete gonne,
And hertily thei hurtlin al at ones,
And fro the top doune comith the grete ftones,
In goth the grapinel fo ful of crokes
Among the ropis ran the fhering hokes,
In with the polaxe prefith he and he,
Behinde the mafte beginnith he to fle,
And out againe, and drivith him or borde,
He flickith him upon his fper'is orde,
He rent the faile with hokis like a fithe,
He bringeth the cuppe, and biddith 'hem be blith,
He pourith prefen upon the hatchis flider,
With pottis ful of lime thei gon togider.
And thus the longè daie in fight thei ſpende,
Til at the laft, as every thing hath ende,
Antonius is fhent and put to flight,
And al his folke to go that beſt go might,
Fleeth cke the Quene, with al her purple faile,
For ftrokis whiche that went as thicke as haile;
No wondir was, fhe might it nat endure:
And whan Antony fawe that avinture,
Alas (quod he) the daie that I was borne !
My worship in this daie thus have I lorne,
4
LEGENDE OF CLEOPATRA, QUENÉ OF EGYPTE.
421
And for difpaire out of his witte he ſterte,
And rofe himſelfe anon throughout the herte
Er that he ferthir went out of the place:
His wife, that could of Cæfar have no grace,
To Egypt fled for drede and for diftreffe;
But herkenith, ye that fpekin of kindeneffe.
Ye men that falfely fwerin many' an othe
That ye wol dic if that your love be wrothe,
Here maie ye fene of women fuch a trouth
This woful Cleopatre' had made fuche routh
That there n'is tongè none that maie it tel,
But on the' morowe fhe wol no lengir dwel,
But made her fubtil werkmen make a fhrine
Of al the rubies and the ftonis fine
In al Egypt which that ſhe coulde efpie,
And ſhe put ful the ſhrine of ſpicerie,
And lette the corfe enbaume, and forth fhe fette
This ded corfe, and fhe in the fhrine is fhette;
And next the ſhrine a pit than doth ſhe grave,
And al the ſerpentis that ſhe might have
She put 'hem in that grave and thus ſhe ſeide;
Now love, to whom my forowful hert óbeide
So ferforthly, that fro that blisful hour
That I you fwore to ben al frely your,
I mene you, Antonius, my knight,
That nevir waking in the daie or night
Ye n'ere out of mine hert'is remembraunce,
For wele or wo, for carole or for daunce,
And in my felfe this covenant made I tho,
That right fuche as ye feltin, wele or wo,
As ferforth as it in my power laie,
Unreprovable' unto my wifehode aie,
The fame would I felin in life or dethe,
And thilkê covenaunt while me laftith brethe
I wol fulfil, and that fhal wel be fene,
Was ner unto her love a trewir quenc;
And with that word nakid, with ful gode hert,
Among the ferpentes in the pitte ſhe ſtert,
And there the chefe to have her burying:
Anone the nedirs gonne her for to fting,
And the her deth recevith with god chere,
For love of Antony that was her dere;
And this is ftorial fothe, it is no fable.
Now er I finde a man thus trewe and ſtable,
And wol for love his deth fo frely take,
I praie God let our hedis nevir ake!
D diij
་་
*
42 3
LEGENDE OF THISBE OF BABYLONE.
{
HERE FOLO WETH
THE LEGENDE OF THISBE
OF BABYLONE.
AT Babylone whilom fil it thus,
'The whiche toun the Quene Simiramus
Let dichin al about, and wallis make
Full hie of hardè tilis wel ibake:
There werin dwelling in this noble toun
Two lordis which that were of grete renoun,
And wonidin fo nigh upon a grene
That there n'as but a ftone wal 'hem bitwene,
As oftin in grete tounis is the wonne,
And, fothe to faine, that one man had a fonne
Of al that londe one of the luftyift,
That othir had a doughtir the fairift
That eftward in the world was tho dwelling;
The name of everiche gan to othir ſpring,
By women that were neighbouris abouté,
For in that countre yet withoutin doute
Maidinis ben ikepte for jeloufie
Ful ftraitely, left thei diddin fome folie.
This youngè man was clepid Pyramus,
And Thiſbe hight the maide (Nafo faith thus)
And thus by reporte was ther name ifhove,
That as thei woxe in age fo woxe ther love;
And certaine, as by refon of ther age,
Ther might have ben betwixt 'hem mariage,
But that ther fathirs n'olde it nat affent ;
And thei in love ylike fore bothè brcnt
That none of al ther freudis might it lette,
But privily fomtimis yet thei mette
7
By fleight, and fpakin fome of ther defire,
As wrie the glede and hottir is the fire;
Forbid a love and it? is ten times fo wode.
This wal which that betwixt 'hem both yftode
Was cloven atwo right fro the top adoun
Of oldè time of his foundacioun,
But yet this clifte was fo narow and lite
It was pat fenè, (dere inough a mite)
But what is that that love can not cfpic?
Ye lovirs two, if that I fhal nat lie,
Ye foundin firft this litle narowe clifte,
And with a founde as fofte as any fhrifte
Thei let ther wordis through the cliftè pace,
And toldin, while that thei ftoden in the place,
Al ther complaint of love and al ther wo,
At every time whan thei durftin fo.
Upon that one fide of the wal ftode he,
And on that other fidè ftode Thiſbe,
The fwete foune of othir to receve,
And thus ther wardeins wouldin thei difceve,
And every daie this wal thei wouldin threte,
And wifh to God that it were doun ibete;
Thus would thei faine, Alas! thou wickid wal,
Thorough thine envie thou us lettiſt al;
Why n'ilt thou cleve or fallin al atwo?
Or at the leftè, but thou wouldift fo,
Yet wouldift thou but onis let us mete,
Or onis that we mightin kiflin fwete,
Than were we curid of our caris colde;
But nathèleffe yet be we to the holde,
In as much as thou fuffrift for to gone
Our wordis through thy lime and cke thy ftone,
Yet oughtin we with the ben wel apaide.
1
And whan thefe idil wordis werin faide
The colde wal thei woldin kiffe of ftone,
And take ther leve, and forth thei woldin gone,
And this was gladly in the evintide,
Or wondir erly, left men it efpide:
And longe time thei wrought in this manere,
Til on a daie, whan Phoebus gan to clere,
Aurora with the ftremis of her hete
Had dryid up the dewe of herbis wetc,
Unto this clifte, as it was wonte to be,
Come Pyramus, and aftir comè Thiſbe,
7
LEGENDE OF THISBE OF BABYLONE.
423
And plightin trouth right fully in ther faie,
That ilkè fame night to itele awaie,
And to begile ther wardeins everichone,
And forth out of the cite for to gone;
And for the feldis ben fo brode and wide
For to metin in o place at o tide
Thei fettin markes ther metingis fhould be
There King Ninus was graven undir a tre,
For olde Painims, that idollis heried,
Ufidin tho in feldis to ben beried;
And faftè by his grave was a wel,
And fhortily of this tale for to tel,
This covenaunt was affirmid wondir faſt,
And longe 'hem thoughtin that the fonne laſt,
That it n'ere gone undir the fe adoun.
This Thiſbe hath fo grete affectioun,
And fo grete liking Pyramus to fe,
That whan fhe fawe her time might ybe
At night the ftale awaie ful privily,
With her face iwimplid full fubtilly,
For al her frendis (for to fave her trouthe)
She hath forfake, alas! and that is routhe,
That evir woman would ybe fo trewe
To truftin man but fhe the bet him knewe;
And to the tre the goeth a ful gode pace,
For love made her fo hardy in this cafe,
And by the welle adoun fhe gan her dreffe.
Alas! than comith a wilde lioneffe
Out of the wode, withoutin more areſt
With blode mouthe of ftrangling of a beft,
To drinkin of the wel there as the fat;
And whan that Thifbe had efpyid that
She rift her up with a ful drery herte,
And in a cave with dredful fote fhe fterte,
For by the mone fhe fawe it wel withall,
And as ſhe ran her wimple let fhe fall,
And toke none hede, fo fore fhe was awhaped,
And eke fo glad for that the was eſcaped;
And thus fhe fat and lurkith wondir ftill.
Whan that this lioneffe hath dronke her fill
Aboutin the well gan fhe for to winde,
And right anon the wimple gan fhe finde,
And with her blody mouthc it al to rente;
Whan this was done no lengir fhe ne ftente,
But to the wode her way then hath ſhe nome,
And at the last this Pyramus is come,
But al to longe, alas! at home was he;
The mone fhone, men might in wel ife;
And in his waie, as that he come ful faſt,
His cyin to the grounde adoun he caſt,
And in the fonde, as he behelde adoun,
He faw the fteppis brode of a lioun,
And in his hert he fodainly agrofe,
And pale he wexte, therwith his hert arofe,
And nere he came, and founde the wimple torne;
Alas (quod he) the daie that I was borne!
This o night wol both us loviris flc;
How should I aſkin mercy of 'Thiſbe
Whan I am he that have you flaine? alas!
My biding hath you flainè in this caas:
Alas! to bidde a woman gone by night
In place there as perill fallin might,
And I fo flowe: alas! I ne had be
Here in this place a furlonge waie er ye.
Now what lioun that is in this forest
My body mote he rentin, or what beſt
That wilde is, gnawin mote he now mine herte.
And with that worde he to the wimple fterte,
And kiſte it ofte, and wepte on it ful fore,
And faid, Wimple, alas! there n'is no more,
But thou shalt fele as well the blode of me
As thou haft felte the bleding of Thiſbe :
And with that worde he fmote him to the herte,
The blode out of the wounde as rode afterte
As watir, whan the conduite brokin is.
Now Thisbe, which that ne wiſt not of this,
But fitting in her drede fhe thoughtè thus,
Yf it fo fallin that my Pyramus
Be comen hithir, and may me nat ifinde,
He maie me holdin falfe and eke unkinde.
And out the cometh, and aftir him gan fpien
Both with her herte and eke with her eien,
And thought I wol him tellin of my drede.
Both of the lioneffe and of my dede;
And at the laſt her love than hath fhe founde
Ybeting with his helis on the grounde
Al blody', and therwithal abacke fhe fterte,
And like the wawis quappe began her herte,
And pale as boxe fhe woxe, and in a throwe
Avifid her, and gan him wel to knowe,
That it was Pyramus, her hertè dere:
O! who could writin whiche a dedly chere
Hath Thiſbe now! and how her here fhe rent,
And how the gan her felfin to turment,
And how the lieth and fwounith on the ground,
And how the wept of teris ful his wounde,
How medlith fhe his blode with her complaint,
How with her blod her felvin gan fhe paint,
How clippith fhe the red ded corſe, alas!
How doth this woful Thisbe in this caas,
How kilith fhe his frofty mouthe fo colde!
Who hath don this? and who hath ben fo bolde
To fleen my life? o! peke my Pyramus,
I am thy Thiſbe that the callith thus;
And therwithal fhe liftith up his hed.
This wofull man, that was nat fully ded,
Whan that he herde the name of Thisbe crien,
On her he caſt his hevy dedly eyen,
And doun againe, and yeldith up the goft.
Thibe rift up withoutin noife or boſt,
And faw her wimple and his empty fheth,
And eke his fwerde, that him hath don to deth,
Than fpake the thus; My woful hande (quod fhe)
Is ftronge inough in fuche a werke to me,
For love fhal yeve me ſtrength and hardineſſe
To make my woundè large inough I geffe;
I wol the folowen ded, and I wol be
Felawe and caufe eke of thy deth, (quod ſhe)
And though that nothing fave the deth only
Might the fro me departin trewily,
Thou shalt no more departin now fro me
Than fro the deth, for I wol go with the.
And now, ye wretchid jelouſe fathirs our,
We that ywerin whilom childrin your,
We prayin you withoutin more envie
That in o gravè we both motin lie,
Sens love hath brought us to this pitous ende:
And rightwife God to every lovir ſende,
pd iiij.
424
LEGENDE OF THISBE OF BABYLONE.
That lovith trewly, more profperite
Than evir had Pyramus and Thisbe,
And let no gentil woman her affure
To puttin her in fuche an avinture:
But God forbid but that a woman can
Ben as true and as loving as a man,
And for my part I fhal anon it kith;
And with that word his fwerd fhe tokè fwith,
That warme was of her lov'is blode and hote,
And to the herte fhe her felvin fimote.
And thus are Thiſbe' and Pyramus ago :
Of trewè men I findin but fewe mo
In al my bokis fave this Pyramus,
And therfore have I ſpokin of him thus,
For it is deinte to us men to finde
A man that can in love be trewe and kinde.
Here maie ye fene, what lovir fo he be,
A woman dare and can as wel as he.
!
1
+
1
!
LEGENDE OF DIDO QUENE OF CARTHAGE.
425
HERE FOLOWETH
THE LEGENDE OF DIDO
QUENE OF CARTHAGE,
GLORIE and honour, Virgile Mantuan,
Be to thy name, and I fhal as I can
Folowe thy lanterne as thou goeſt beforne,
How Æneas to Dido was forfworne
In thine Æneide, and Nafe wol I take
The tenour and the gret effectis make.
Whan Troee ybrought-was to diſtruction
By Grekis fleight, and namely by Sinon
Faning the horfe offrid unto Minerve,
Thrugh which that many a Trojan muft fterve,
And Hector had aftir his deth apered,
And fire fo wode that it might nat ben ſtered,
In al the noble toure of Illion,
That of the cite was, the chefe dongeon,
And al the countre was fo lowe ibrought,
And Priamus the king fordone and nought,
And Æneas was chargid by Venus
To flien awaie, he toke Afcanius,
That was his fon, in his right handle and fledde,
And on his backe he bare and with him ledde
Mis oldè fathir clepid Anchifes,
And by the waie his wife Creufa he lefe;
And mokil forow had he in his minde
Er'that he could his felawſhip yfinde,
But at the laſt, whan he had 'hem yfounde,
He made 'hem redy in a certaine ftounde,
And to the fe ful faft he gan him hie,
And failith forth with al his companie
Towards Itaile, as wold Deſtine :
But of his aventuris in the fe
N'is nat to purpoſe for to fpeke of here,
For it accordith nat to my matere;
But as I faid, of him and of Dido
Shal be my tale til that I have do.
So long he failid in the faltè fe
Til in Libye unneth arrivid he
With fhippis fevin, and no more navie,
And glad he was to loncè for to hie,
So was he with the tempeſt al to ſhake;
And whan that he the havin had itake
He had a knight was callid Achates,
And him of all his felowfhip he chefe
To gon with him the countre for t'efpie,
He ne toke with him no more companie.
But forthe thei gon, and left his ſhippis ride,
His fere and he, withoutin any guide.
So long he walkith in this wildirneffe;
Till at the laft he met an huntireffe;
A bowe in honde and arowis had the,
Her clothis cuttid were unto the kne,
But he was yet the fairift creäture
That evir was iformid by Nature,
And Æneas and Achates fhe grette,
And thus the to 'hem fpake whan fhe 'hem met:
Saw ye, (quod fhe) as ye han walkid wide,
Any of my fuftrin walke you beſide
With any wild bore or othir beſt,
That hei have huntid to in this foreft,
Ituckid up, with arowes in ther caas?
Nae, fothly, ladie, (quod this Æneas)
But by thy beaute, as it thinkith me,
Thou mightift nevir yerthly woman be,
But Phœbus fuftir art thou as I geffe,
And if fo be that thou be a goddeffe
Have mercie on our labour and our wo.
I n'am no goddeffe fotly, quod fhe the,
For maidins walkin in this countre here
With arowes and with bow in this manere;
This is the relme of Libye there ye ben,
Of whiche that Dido ladie is and quene;
And ſhortly tolde all the occafion
Why Dido came into that region,
426
LEGENDE OF DIDO QUENE OF CARTHAGE.
Of whiche as now me liftith nat to rhime;
It nedith nat; it n'ere but loffe of time;
For this is all and fome, it was Venus,
His ownè mothir, that fpake with him thus:
And to Carthage fhe bade he ſhould him dight,
And vanifhid anon out of his fight.
I could folowin worde for worde Virgile,
But it would laftin all to longè while.
This noble Quene, that clepid was Dido,
That whilom was the wife of Sichæo,
That fairir was by ferr than the bright fonne,
This noble toune of Carthage hath begonne,
In whiche fhe reignith in fo grete honour
That she was holdin of all quenis flour
Of gentilleſſe, of fredome, and beaute,
That well was him that might her onis fe,
Of kingis and of lordis fo defired,
That all the worlde her beautie had ifired,
She ftode fo well in every wight'is grace.
Whan Æneas was come unto the place,
Unto the maiſtirtemple' of all the toun,
There Dido was in her devocioun,
Full privily his waie than hath he nome :
Whan he was into the large temple come
I can not faine if that it be poffible,
But Venus had him makid inviſible,
Thus faith the boke, without in any lefc.
And whan this Eneas and Achates
Haddin in this temple ben ovir all,
Than foundin thei depaintid on a wall
How Troie and all the lande deſtroyid was;
Alas that I was borne! (quod Æneas)
Thorough the world our fhame is kid fo wide,
Now it is paintid upon every fide :
All we that werin in profperite
Ben now diſclaundrid, and in foche degre,
No lengir for to livin I ne kepe;
And with that word he braft out for to wepe
So tendirly that routh it was to fenc.
This frefhe ladic, of the citie Quenc,
Stode in the temple' in her cftate roiall,
So richily and eke fo faire withall,
So yong, fo luftie, with her eyin glade,
'That if that God that hevin and yerth made
Would have a love, for beaute and godeneſſe,
And womanhede, and trouth and femelineffe,
Whom should he lovin but this ladie fwete?
'There n'is no woman to him half fo mete.
Fortune, that hath the world in govirnaunce,
Hath fodainly brought in fo newe a chaunce
That nevir was there yet fo frened a caas,
For all the companie of Æneas,
Which that we wenid have lorne in the fe,
Arivid is nought ferre fro that cite,
For whiche the gretis of his lordis fome
By avinture ben to the cite come,
Unto that famè temple for to ſeke
The Quene, and of her focour her befeke,
Soche renome was ther fprong of her godenes.
1
And whan that thei had tolde all ther diftrefs,
And all ther tempeft and all ther hard cafe,
Unto the Quene apperid Æneas,
And opinly beknewe that it was he;
Who haddin joiè than but his meine,
That haddin found ther lorde, ther govirnour?
The Quene faw that thei did him foche honour,
And had herd oft of Æneas cr tho,
And in her hertè fhe had routhe and wo
That evir foche a noble man as he
Shall ben difheritid in foche degre,
And fawe the man that he was like a knight,
And fuflifaunt of perfone and of might,
And like to ben a very gentilman,
And well his wordis he befettin can,
And had a noble vifage for the nones,
And formid well of brawne and eke of bones,
And aftir Venus had foche fairèneffe
That no man might be halfe fo faire I geffe,
And well a lorde him femid for to be;
And for he was a ftraungir, fomwhat fhe
Ylikid him the bet, as God doe bote,
To fome folk oftin newè thing is fote;
Anon her herte hath pitie of his wo,
And with that pite love ycame alfo ;
And thus for pite and for gentilneſſe
Refreſhid muft he ben of his diftreffe,
She fayid certis that fhe forie was
That he hath had foche perill and foch caas,
And in her frendly fpeche in this manere
She to him fpake, and faied as ye maie here:
Be ye nat Venus fonne and Anchifes?
In gode faith all the worship and encrefe
That I maic godely doen you ye fhall have;
Your fhippis and your meinè fhall I fave;
And many' a gentill worde fhe fpake him to,
And commaundid her meffangirs to go
The fame daie withoutin any faile
His fhippis for to feke and 'hem vitaile :
Full many' a beft fhe to the shippis fent,
And with the wine fhe gan 'hem to prefent,
And to her roiall paleis fhe her ſpedde,
And Æneas alwaic with her fhe ledde.
What nedith you the feftis to difcrive?
He nevir bet at eſe was in his live;
Full was the feſt of deintics and richeſſe,
Of inftrumentes, of fong, and of gladneffe,
And many' an amo'rous loking and devife.
This Æneas is come to paradife
Out of the fwolowe' of hell, and thus in joie
Remembrith him of his eſtate in Troie.
To daunfing chambris full of paramentes,
Of richè beddis and of ornamentes,
This Æneas is ledde aftir the mcte;
And with the Quene whan that he had yfete,
And fpicis partid, and the wine agon,
Unto his chambir was he lad anon
To take his efe and for to have his reft,
With all his folke to doen what fo 'him left.
'There ne was courfir well ibridlid none,
Ne ftede for the jufting well to gone,
Ne large paulfrey efie for the nones,
Ne jewill yfret full of richè ſtones,
Ne fackis full of gold, of large wight,
Ne rubie none that fhinith bright by night,
Ne gentill hautin faukon heronere,
3
Ne hounde for harte, or wildè hore, or dere,
Ne cuppe of gold, with floreins newe ibette,
That in the londe of Libye maic ben gette
5
LEGENDE OF DIDO QUENE OF CARTHAGE.
421
That Dido ne' hath Æneas it ifent,
And all is payid what that he hath ſpent.
Thus gan this worthy Queue her geftis call,
As the that can in fredome paffin all.
Æneas fothely cke, withoutin leſe,
Hath fent to his fhippis by Achates
Aftir his fonne, and aftir richè thinges,
Both fceptre, clothis, brochis, and cke ringes,
Some for to were, and fome for to prefent
To her that all theſe noble things him fent,
And bad his fonne how that he ſhould ymake
The preſenting, and to the Quene it take.
Repairid is this Achates again,
And Eneas full blisfull is and fain
To fein his yonge fonne Afcanius,
For unto him it was reportid thus,
That Cupido, that is the god of Love,
At prayir of his mothir hie above,
Yhad the likeneffe of the childe itake,
This noble Quene enamoured for to make
On Æneas; but as to that fcripture,
Be as be maie, I make of it no cure;
But foth is this, the Quene hath made foch cheṛe
Unto this childe that wondir was to here,
And of the prefent that his fathir fent
She thankid him full oft in gode entent,
Thus is this Quene in plefaunce and in joie
With all thefe newè luftie folke of Troic,
And of the dedis hath fhe more enquered
Of Ænças, and all the ſtorie lercd
Of Troie, and all the longè daie thei twaie
Entendidin for to ſpeke and to plaic,
Of whiche there gan to bredin foche a fire,
'That felie Dido hath now foche defire
With Æneas her newè geft to dele
That fhe hath loft her hewe and eke her hele.
Now to the' effect, now to the fruite, of all
Why I have told this ſtorie' and tellin fhall.
Thus I beginne, It fell upon a night,
Whan that the mone upreifid had her light,
This noble Quene unto her reft ywent,
She fighid fore, and gone her felf tourment,
She walkith, waloweth, and made many braied,
As doen thefe lovirs, as I have herd faied,
And at the lafte unto her fuftir Annc
She made her mone, and right thus fpake ſhe than :
Now, derè fuftir mine! what maie it be
That me agaftith in my dreme? (quod fhe)
This ilke newe Trojan is fo in my thought,
For that me thinketh he it fo well iwrought,
And eke fo likely for to ben a man,
And therwithall fo milkill gode he can,
That all my love and life lieth in his cure;
Have ye nat herd him tell his avinture?
Now certis, Anne, if that yç redè me,
I woldin fain to him iweddid be:
'This is the effect; what should I more feine?
In him lieth all to doc me live or deine.
Her fuftir Anne, as the that coud her gode,
Said as her thought, and fomdele it withitode ;
But hereof was fo long a fermoning
It were to long to makin reherfing;
But finally, it maie not be withſtonde,
Loye woll ylove, for no wight woll it wonde;
gon, let gon!
The dawning uprift out of the falte fe,
This amorous Quene chargith her meinè
The nettis drefle, and fperis brode and kene,
An hunting woll this luftie freſhè Quene,
So prikith her this newè jolie wo;
To horfe is all her luftie folke igo,
Unto the court the houndis ben ibrought,
And upon coarfir ſwift as any thought
Her yongè knightis hevin all about,
And of her women eke an huge rout:
Upon a thicke palfraie, papirwhite,
With fadill redde, enbroudid with delite,
Of golde the barris, up enboffid high,
Sate Dido, all in golde and perreywrigh,
And he is faire as is the brightè morowe
That helith fick folkis of night'is forowe,
Upon a courfir ftartlin as the fire,
Men mightin tourne him with a little wire.
But Æneas, like Phœbus to devife,
So was he freſh arayid in his wife,
The fomie bridill, with the bitte of gold,
Govirnith he right as himſelf hath would;
And forthe this noble Quene, this ladic, ride
On huuting, with this Trojan by her tide.
'The herde of hartis foundin is anon,
With Hey go bet, pricke thou, let gon,
Why n'il the lion comin or the bere,
That I might him ones metin with this fpere?
Thus fain this yongè folke, and up thei kill
The wilde hartis, and have 'hem at ther will.
Emong all this to romblin gan the heven,
The thondir rorid with a grifly even,
Doun come the rain, with haile and flet ſo faſt,
With hevin's fire, that made fo fore agaft
This noble Quene and alſo her mainè,
That eche of 'hem, was glade awaie to fle;
And, ſhortly, fro the tempeft her to fave
She fled her felf into a little cave,
And with her went this Æneas alfo,
I n'ot with 'hem if ther went any mo,
The auctour makith ofit no mencion;
And here began the depe affection
Betwixt 'hem two; this was the firftè morowe
Of her gladneffe and ginning of her forowe,
For there hath Æneas iknelid fo,
And tolde her all his hert and all his wo,
And fworne fo depè to her to be true
For well or wo, and chaungin for no newe,
And as a falfe lovir fo well can plain,
That felie Dido rewid on his pain,
Toke him for huſbond, and became his wife
For evirmore, while that 'hem laſt ſhulde life;
And aftir this, when that the tempeft ftente,
With mirth out as thei came homward thei went;
The wickid fame uprofe, and that anon,
How Æneas hath with the Quene igon
Into the cave, and demid as 'hem lift;
And whan the King (that Yarbas hight) it wift,
As he that had her loved evir his life,
And wowid her to havin to his wife,
Soche forow' as he hath makid and foche chere
It is a routhe and pity for to here;
But as in love all daie it happith fo
That one ſhall laughin at an othir's wo
428
Y
LEGENDE OF DIDO QUENE OF CARTHAGE.
5
Now laughith Æneas, and is in joie
And more richeffe than evir was in Troie.
O felie woman, full of innocence,
Full of pite, of truthc, and continence!
What makid you to men to truſtin ſo?
Have ye foche routhe upon ther fainid wo
And have foche old enfamplis you beforne?
Se ye nat all how that thei ben forfworne?
Where fe ye one that he ne' hath lafte his lefe,
Or hen unkinde, or doen her fome mifchefe,
Or pillid her, or boftid of his dede ?
Ye maie as well it fene as ye maie rede.
Takith hede now of this grete gentilman,
This Trojan, that ſo well her plefin can,
That fainith him ſo true and obcifing,
So gentill and fo privie' of his doing,
And can fo well doen all his obeiſaunce,
And waitith her at feftis and at daunce,
And whan fhe goeth to temple' and home again,
And faftin till he hath his ladie fein,
And berin in his devifis for her fake
N'ot I nat what, and fongis would he make,
Juftin, and doen of armis many thinges,
Sende her lettirs, tokins, brochis, and ringes.
Now herkenith how he fhal his lady ferve:
There as he was in perill for to fterve
For hungir and for miſchefe in the fe,
And defolate, and fledde fro his countre,
And all his folke with tempeft all to driven,
She hath her body and eke her relme yeven
Into his honde, there as fhe might have ben
Of othir land than of Carthage a quene,
And lived in joy inough; what would ye more?
This Æneas, that hath thus depe iſwore,
Is werie of his craft within a throwe,
And the hote erneft is all ovirblowe,
And privily he doeth his hippis dight,
And fhapith him to ftele awaie by night.
This Dido hath fufpection of this,
And thoughtin well that it was all amis,
For in his bedde he lieth anight and fiketh :
She afkith him anon, What the mifliketh,
My dere herte! whiche that I lovin mofte?
Certis (quod he) this night my fathir's ghofte
Hath in my flepe me fa forely tourmented,
And eke Mercurie's his meffage hath preſented,
That nedis to the conqueft of Itaile
My deftinie is fonè for to faile,
For which me thinkith broftin is minc hert;
Therwith his falfè teris out thei ftert,
And takith her within his armis two.
Is that in erneft? (quod fhe) woll ye fo?
Have ye no fworne to wife me for to take?
Alas! what woman woll ye of me make?
I am a gentill woman and a quene,
Ye woll not fro your wife thus foul yflene?
That I was borne alas! what fhall I do?
To telle in fhort, this noble Quene Dido
She fekith halowes and doeth facrifice,
She knelith, crieth, that routh is to devife,
Conjurith him, and proft'rith him to be
His thrall, his fervaunt, in the beſt degre,
She fallith him to fote, and fownith there,
Difchevilid with her bright gildid here,
And faieth, Have mercy! let me with you ride,
Thele lordis whiche that wonnin me befide
Woll me deſtroyin only for your fake;
And if ye wolle me now to wife ytake
As ye have fworne, than woll I yeve you leve
Te flaen me with your fwerde now fon at eve,
For than yet ſhall I dyin as your wife;
I am with childe, and yeve my childe his life:
O mercie, Lorde! have pite in your thought.
But all this thing availith her right nought,
For on a night he fleping let her lie,
And ftole awaye into his company,
And as a traitour forthe he gan to faile
Towardis the large countre of Itaile :
And thus hath he left Dido' in wo and pine,
And weddid there a ladie hight Lavine.
A clothe he laft, and eke his ſworde ſtanding,
Whan he fro Dido ftale in her fleping,
Right at her bedd'is hedde, fo gan he hie
Whan that he ftale awaie to his navie.
Which cloth whan felie Dido gan awake
She hath it kifte ful oftin for his fake,
And faid, Swete cloth! while Jupiter it left
Take my foule, unbinde me of this unreſt,
I have fulfilled of Fortune all the courſe :
And thus, alas! withoutin his focourſe
Twentie timis ifwounid heth the than.
And whan that fhe unto her fuftir Anne
Complainid had of which I maie not write,
So grete routh I have it for to endite,
And bad her norice and her fuftrin gon
To fetchin fire and othir thinges anon,
And fayid that ſhe wouldè facrifie
And whan fhe might her time well afpic
Upon the fire of facrifice the ſterte,
And with his fworde fhe rofe her to the herte:
But as minc auctour faith yet this ſhe feide,
Or fhe was hurtin, beforne or fhe deide,
She wrote a lettre' anon, and thus began;
;
Right fo (quod fhe) as the milkwhitè fwan
Ayenft his deth beginnith for to fing,
Right fo to you I make my complaining,
Not that I trowe to gettin you again,
For well I wote that it is al in vain,
Sens that the goddes ben contrarious to me,
But fin my name is loft through you (quod fhc)
I maie well lefe a worde on you or letter,
All be it I fhall be nevir the better,
For thilke wind that blewe your ſhip awai
The fame winde hath blowe awaie your faic:
But who fo wol al this lettre' have in minde
Rede Qvide, and in him he fhall it finde,
售
​LEGENDE OF HYPSIPYLE AND MEDEA,
429
HERE FOLO WETH
THE LEGENDE OF HYPSIPYLE AND MEDEA.
THOU
HOU rote of falfe loviris, Duke Jafon,
Thou fleer, devourir, and confufion,
Of gentill women, gentil creätures,
'Thou madift thy reclaiming and thy lures
To ladies of thy fcathliche aparaunce,
And of thy wordis farfid with plefaunce,
And of thy fainid trouth and thy manere,
With thine obeïfaunce and humble chere,
And with thine counterfeitid pain and wo,
There othir falfin one thou falfid two.
O! oftin fwore thou that thou woldift die
For love whan thou ne feltift maladie
Save foule delite, whiche that thou callift love:
If that I live thy name fhall be yfhove
In Engliſhe, that thy deceipt ſhall be knowe:
Have at the, Jaſon; now thin horn is blow.
But certis it is bothè routh and wo
That Love with falfè lovirs werkith ſo,
For thei fhal have well bettir love and chere
'Than he that hath aboughtin love full dere,
Or had in armis many' a bloodie boxe,
For ay as tendre' a capon etcth the fox,
Though he be fals, and hath the foule betraied,
As fhall the gode man that therefore hath paied;
Although he have to the' capon ſkill and right
The falfè foxe woll have his part at night:
On Jaſon this enfample' is well ifene
By Hypfipyle' and Medea the quene.
In 'Theffalie, as Ovide tellith us,
There was a knight that hightin Pelus,
That had a brothir whiche that hight fon;
And whan for age he might unnethis gon
He yave to Peleus the govirning
Of all his reigne, and made him lorde and king;
Of whiche Æfon this Jafon gettin was,
That in his time in all that land there n'as
Nat foche a famous knight of gentilleffe,
Of fredome, of ftrengthe, and of luftineffe.
Aftir his fathir's deth be bare him fo
That there n'as none that lift to ben his foe,
But did him all honour and companie,
Of whiche this Peleus hath grete envie,
Imagining that Jafon mighty be
Enhaunfid fo, and put in foche degrc,
With love of lordis of his regioun,
That from his reigne he maie be put adoun,
And in his wit anight compaffid he
How this Jafon might beſt diſtroyid be,
Withoutin fclaundir of his compaſment;
And at the laft he toke avifèment
That to fende him into fome ferre countre,
Theras this Jafon maie diſtroyid be:
This was his wit, all made he to Jafon
Grete chere of loke and of affection,
For drede left that his lordis it efpide.
And fo bifell it, as fame ronnith wide,
There was foche tiding or all, and foche loos,
That in an ifle that callid was Colchos,
That ftonte beyonde Troie eftward in the fe,
There was a Ram which that men mightin fe
That had a Flees of Golde that fhone fo bright
That no where was there foche an othir fight;
But it was kept alwaie with a dragoun,
And many othir marvailes up and doun,
And with two bullis makid all of bras,
That ſpittin fire, and mochil thing ther was;
But this was eke the tale nathèles,
That who fo would ywinnin thilke Flees
He muft bothe, or that he it winnin might,
With the bullis and with the dragon fight.
And King Oëtus lorde was of that ile.
This Peleus bethought upon this while
That he his nevewe Jaſon would exhort
To failin to that londe him to difport,
And fayid, Nevewe, if it might ybe
That ſoche a worſhip might befallin the
430
HYPSIPYLE AND MEDEA.
LEGENDE OF
+
That thou this famous trefure mightiſt win,
And bringin it my region within,
It were to me grete plefaunce and honour,
Than were I holdin to quite thy labour,
And all thy coftis I woll my felf make,
And chefith what folke thou wolt with the take:
Let fe now, darfte thou takin this voiage?
Jafon was young, and luftie of corage,
And undirtoke to doen this ilke emprife;
Anon Argus his fhippis gan deviſe.
gon
With Jafon went the ftrong ftout Hercules,
And many' an othir that he with him ches;
But who fo afkith who is with him
Let him rede the boke Argonauticon,
For he wol tel a tale long inough.
Philocretes anon the faile up drough,
Whan that the winde was gode, and gan him hie
Out of his countre callid Theffalie.
So long thei failid in the falte ſe
Till in the ile of Lemnos arived he,
All be this nat reherfid of Guido,
Yet faieth Ovide in his Epiftlis fo;
And of this ileland ladie was and quene
The faire and yonge Hypfipyle the fhene,
That whilom Thoas doughter was, the king.
Hypfipyle was gon in her playing;
And roming on the clevis by the fe;
Undir a banke anone efpyid fhe
Where laie the ſhippe that Jafon gon arive;
Of her godeneffe adoune ſhe fendith blive
To wetin if that any ſtraungè wight
With tempeft thidir were iblowe anight,
To doen 'hem focour, as was her ufaunce
To furth'rin every wight, and don płefaunce
Of very bounte and of curtifie.
'This meffangir adoune him gan to hie,
And founde Jaſon and Hercules alfo,
That in a cogge to londe werin igo
'Hem to refreſhin and to take the aire,
The morowning attempre was and faire,
And in ther waie this meffangir 'hem mette;
Full conningly theſe lordis two he grette,
And did his meffage, afking 'hem anon
If thei wer brokin or ought wo bigon,
Or had nede of lodeſmen or of vitaile?
For of fuccour they ſhouldin nothing faile,
For it was uttirly the Quen'is will.
Jafon anſwerid mekely and ſtill,
My ladie (quod he) thanke I hertily
Of her godencffe: us nedith truily
Nothing as now, but that we werie be,
And comin for to plaie out of the fe
Till that the winde be bettir in our waie.
This ladie romith by the cliffe to plaie,
With her meinè, endlong upon the ftronde,
And findith Jafon and this othir ſtonde
told.
In fpeking of this thing, as you
I
This Hercules and Jafon gan behold
How that the Quene it was, and faire her grete,
Anon right as thei with this ladie mete,
And the toke hede, and knewe by ther manere,
By ther araie, by wordis, and by chere,
That it were gentillmen of grete degre,
And to the caſtle with her ledith fhe
'Theſe ftraungè folke, and doith 'hem gret honor
And aſkith 'hem of travaile and of labor
'That thei have fuffrid in the faltè fe;
So that within a daie, or two or thre,
She knewe by the' folke that in his fhippis be
That it was Jaſon, full of renome,
And Hercules, that had the gretè loos,
That foughtin the aventures of Colchos,
And did 'hem honour more than before,
And with 'hem deled evir longir the more,
For thei ben worthy folke withoutin leſe,
And namely mofte fhe fpake with Hercules,
To him her herte fhe bare, an he ſhould be
Sadde, wife, and true, of wordis avifê,
Withoutin any othir affection
Of love, or othir imaginacion.
This Hercules hath this Jafon fo preifed,
That to the funnè he hath him up reifed,
That halfe fo true a man thère n'as of love
Undir the cope of heven that is above,
And he was wife, hardie, fecrete, and riche,
Of theſe iii pointis there n'as non him liche,
Of fredome paffid he and luftie hedde
All tho that livin and all tho ben dedde,
Thereto fo grete a gentillman was he,
And of Theffalie likely king to be;
There n'as no lacke but that he was agaft
To love, and for to fpekin fhamèfaſt;
Him had levir himſelf murdir and die
Than that men ſhould a lovir him eſpic,
As wolde God above that I had give
My blode and flefhe, fo that I might live
With the bones, that he had aught where a wife
For his eftate, for foche a luftie life
She ſhouldin ledin with this luftie knight :
And all this was compaffid on the night
Betwixin Jafon and this Hercules:
Of both thefe two here was a fhreudê lefe,
To come to houfe upon an innocent,
For to bedote this Quene was ther entent.
And Jafon is as coie as is a maide ;
He lokith pitoufly, but naught he faied;
But frely yave he to her counfailers
Yeftis full grete and to her officers,
As would God that I lefìr had and time
By proceffe all his woeing for to rime;
But in this houfe if a falfe lovir be,
Right as himſelf now doeth right ſo did he
With faining and with every fubtill dede:
Ye get no more of me but ye woll rede
Th' originall, that tellith all the caas.
The fothe is this, that Jafon weddid was
Unto this Quene, and toke of her fubftaunce
What fo him lift unto his purvciaunce;
And upon her begate he childrin two,
And drough his faile, and fawe her nevir mo.
A lettir fent fhe unto him certain,
Which were to long to writtin and to fain,
And him reprovith of his grete untrouth,
And prayith him on her to have fome routh,
And on his childrin two: fhe faid him this,
That thei be like of alle thing iwis
To Jafon, fave that thei couth nat begile;
And prayid God or it were longè while
LEGENDE OF HYPSIPYLE AND MEDEA.
437
That fhe that had his herte ireft her fro
Mote findin him untrue and falſe alſo,
And that ſhe muſtè both her childrin fpill,
And allè tho that fuffrith him his will.
And true to Jafon was fhe all her life,
And evir kept her chafte as for his wife,
Ne nevir had fhe joie at her herte,
But dyid for his love of forowes fmerte.
To Colchis comin is this Duke Jafon,
That is of love devourir and dragon,
As matire appetitith forme alwaie,
And from forme into forme it paffin maie,
Or as a wellè that were botomles;
Right ſo can falfe Jafon have no pces
For to defirin through his appetite
To doen with gentillwoman his delite ;
This is his lufte and his felicite.
Jafon is romid forthe to the cite
That whilom clepid was Jafonicos,
That was the maiftirtoune of all Colchos,
And hath itolde the cauſe of his coming
Unto Eœta, of that countre king,
Praying him that he muſt doen his affaie
To gette the Flece of Golde if that he maie,
Of whiche the King affentith to his bone,
And doth him honour as it is to done,
So ferforth that his doughtir and his heire
Medea, whiche that was fo wife and faire,
'That fairir fawe there nevir man with
eye,
He made her doen to Jafon companie
At mete, and fittin by him in the hall.
Now was Jafon a femely man withall,
And like a lorde, and had a grete renoun,
And of his loke roiall as a lioun,
And godelie of his fpeche and familiere,
And coud of love the craft and art plenere
Withoutin boke, with everiche obfervaunce;
And as Fortune her ought a foule mifchaunce
She woxe enamorid upon this man.
}
Jafon, (quod fhe) for ought I fe or can
As of this thing the whiche ye ben about,
Ye and your felf ye put in mochil doubt,
For who fo woll this avinture atcheve
He maie nat wele aftertin as I leve
Withoutin deth, but I his helpe be;
But nathèles it is my will (quod fhe)
To forthrin you fo that ye shall nat die,
But turnin founde home to your Theſſalic.
My right fair lady! (quod this Jaſon tho)
That ye have of my deth or of my wo
Any regarde, and doen me this honour,
I wot wel that my might ne my labour
May nat defervin it my liv'is daie ;
God thankè you there I ne can ne maie;
Your man am I, and lowely you beſeche
To ben my helpe withoutin morè fpeche;
But certis for my deth fhal I not ſpare.
Tho gan this Medea to him declare
The peril of this cafe fro point to point,
Of his batyle, and eke in what disjoynt
He motè ftondin, of wniche no creture
Save onley the ne might his lyfe affure :
And fhortly, right to the poynt for to go,
'They ben accordid full betwyxe 'hem two
That Jafon fhall her wedde as her true knight,
And terme yfet to comin fone at night
Unto her chambre, and make there his othe
Upon the goddes, that he for lefe or lothe
Ne fhulde her nevir falfin nyght ne daye
To ben her hufbonde whyle he lyvin maye,
As fhe that from his deth him favid here;
And hereupon at night they mete yfere,
And doth his othe, and goth with her to bedde;
And on the morewe upwarde he him ſpedde,
For fhe hath taught him how he fhal nat fayle
The Flees to wynne and ſtintin his bataile,
And favid hym his life and his honour,
And gate him a name as a conquerour,
Right through the fleight of her enchantèment.
Now hath Jafon the Fleſe, and home is went
With Medea, and trefours full grete wonne :
But unwyite of her fathir fhe is gonne
To Theffalye with Duke Jaſon her lefe,
That aftirwarde hath brought her to mifchefe,
For as a traytour he is from her go,
And with her leftè yongè childrin two,
And falfely hath betrayid her, alas!
And er in love a chefe traytour he was,
And weddid yet the thirdè wyfe anon,
That was the doughtir of the Kyng Creon.
This is the mede of lovyng and guerdon
That Medea receved of Duke Jafon
Right for her truth and for her kyndineffe,
That loved him bettir than her felf I gefſe,
And lefte her fathir and her herytage:
And of Jaſon this is the vaffalage,
That in his dayes n'as nevir non yfounde
So falſe a lovir goyng on the grounde;
And therefore in her lettir thus fhe fayd,
First whan the of his falfneffe him upbrayd,
Why lykid me thy yelowe here to fe
More than the boundis of myn honefte?
Why lykid me thy youth and thy fayrneffe,
And of thy tonge the' infynite gracyoufnelle?
O! haddeft thou in thy conqueft ded ybe
Ful mikil untrouth had ther dyed with the.
Wel can Ovide her lettre' in verfe endyte,
Which were as now to longé for to write.
432
LEGENDE OF LUCRECE OF ROME.
1
1
HERE FOLOWETH
THE LEGENDE OF LUCRECE OF ROME.
Nowe mote I fain th' exilyng of kyngis
Of Rone for ther horible doyngis,
rne laite kynge Sextus Tarquinius,
As faith Ovid and Titus Lyvius;
Eu for that caufe tel I nat this ftorye,
But for to prayfe and drawe in memorye
The ver wyfe, the very true Lucreffe,
That for her wifehode and her fedfaftneffe
Nat onely that thefe Panymes her commende,
But that vclepid is in our Legende
The gret Auflyn, that hath compaffioun
Of this Lucrece that ſtarfe in Romè toun,
And in what wife I woll but ſhortly trete,
And of this thing I touch not but the grete.
Whan Ardea befiegid was aboutc
With Romayns that ful fterne werin and ftout,
Ful long lay the fiege, and litil wroughten,
So that they wer halfe ydil as 'hem thoughten,
And in his play Tarquinius the yonge
Gan for to jape, for he was lyght of tonge,
And fayid that it was an ydle lyfe,
No man d d there no more than did his wife,
And let us fpeke of wivis, that is beft,
Praiſe evèrie man his own as him left,
And with our ipechis let us efe our herte.
A knight (yclepid Colatin) up ſterte,
And fayid thus Nay, S.r, it is no nede
To trowin on the worde but on the dede;
I have a wife (quod he) that as I trowe
Is holdin gode of al that er her knowe,
Go we to Rome to night and we ſhul fe.
Tarquinius anſwerde, That lykith mc.
To Rome they be comin, and faſt 'hem dightc
To Colatyn'is houfe, and downe they light,
Tarquinius and eke this Colatine
;
'The hufbonde knewe the eftirs wel and fyne,
And ful prively into the houſe thei gone :
Nor at the gate ne portir was there none,
And at the chambre dore they abyde.
This noble wife fate by her bedd'is ſyde
Difcheveled, for no malyce fhe ne thought,
And foft wol, faith Livy, that she wrought
To kepin her from flouth and ydilneffe,
And bad her fervauntes done ther befineffe,
And aſkith 'hem, What tidinges herin ye?
How faieth men of the fiege, howe fhal it be?
God wolde the wallis were fallin adowne!
Myn hufbond is to long out of this towne,
For whiche drede doth me forely to fmerte,
Right as a fworde it ftyngith to mine hert
Whan I thinkin on this or of that place;
God fave my lorde, I pray him for his grace!
And therwithal fo tendirly gan wepe,
And of her werke ſhe toke no morè kepe,
But mekily he let her cyin fal,
And thilke femblant fate her wel withal,
And eke her teris, ful of honeflè
Embeliffid her wifely chaftite;
Her countinaunce is to her hertè digne,
For thei accordidin in dede and figne.
And with that worde her hufbonde Colatin,
Or fhe of him was ware, came ftertling in,
And fayid, Drede the nat for I am here:
And the anone up rofe with blifsful chere,
And kyffed him, as of wivis is the wonne,
Tarquinius, this proudè king'is fonne,
Concevid hath her beautie and her chere,
Her yelowe here, her bountie', and her manere,
Her hewe, her wordis, that the hath complained,
And by no craft her beautie was nat fained,
And caught unto this lady foche defire
That in his hert he brent as any fire,
So wodely. that his witte was all forgotten,
For wel thought he fhe fhulde nat be goten;
And aye the more that he was in difpaire
The more he covetith and thought her faire;
His blinde lufte was al his coveting.
On morowe, whan the birde began to fyng,
Unto the fiege he cometh ful privily,
And by himselfe he walkith fobirly,
LEGENDE OF
435
LUCRECE OF ROME.
'The' ymage of her recording alway newe,
Thus lay her here, and thus fref was her hew,
Thus fate fhe, thus fhe fpake, this was her chere,
Thus faire fhe was, and this was her manere:
Al this conceite his herte hath newe ytake,
And as the e with tempeft al to ſhake,
That aftir whan the ftorme is al ago
Yet woll the watir quappe a daie or two,
Right fo, though that her formè were abſent
The plefaunce of her forme was prefent;
But natheleffe nat plefaunce but delite,
Or an unrightful talent with diſpite,
For maugre her fhe fhal my lemman be,
Hap helpith Lardy man alway, (quod he ;)
What ende that I make it fhal.oe fo,
come,
And gyrte him with his fworde and gan to go :
And he forth ritt til he to Rome is
And al alone his way that he hath nome
Unto the houſe of Colatin ful right;
Down was the funne, and day hath loft his lyght;
And in he come unto a privic halke,
And in the night ful thefely gan he ſtalke,
Whan every wight was to his reſt ybrought,
Ne no wight had of trefon foche a thought,
Whethir by windowe or by othir gin:
With fwerde ydrawe fhortly he comith in
There as the lay, this noble wife Lucrece,
And as the woke her hedde ſhe feltin preffe:
What beft is that (quod fhe) that wayith thus?
I am the king'is fonne Tarquinius,
(Quod he) but and thou cric or noife ymake,
Or if thou any creäture awake,
By thilke God that formid man of lyve
This fwerde through thyne hertè ibal I ryve;
And therwithal unto her throte he fterte,
And fet the fwerde al fharpe upon her herte.
No word the fpake; fhe hath no might therto;
What fhal ſhe faine? her witte is al ago,
As when a wolfe findith a lambe alone;
To whom fhal fhe complaine or make her mone?
What fhal fhe fightin with an hardie knight?
Wel wotte men that a woman hath no might ;
What fhal fhe crie, or how fhal fhe afterte,
That hath her by the throte with fwerde at herte?
She afkith grace, and faid al that he can.
No, wolt thou nat tho? (qued this cruil man)
As wifely Jupiter my fouie fave
As I fhal in thy ftable fle thy knave,
And lay him in thy bedde, and loudè crie
That I the fyndin in foche ayoutrie;
And thus thou fhalt be ded, and alfo lefe
Thy name, for that thou fhalt none othir chefe.
This Romains wives lovidin fo ther name
At thilke tyme, and dredidin fo the fhame,
That what for fere of flaundre' and dred of deth
She loft at onis both her wit and breth,
And in a fwough the lay, and woxe ſo ded
Men mightin fmitin of her arme or hed,
She felith nothing neithir foule ne feyre.
Tarquinius, that art a king'is heyre,
And fhuldift as by linage and by right
Donc as a lorde and as a very knight,
Why haft thou done difpite to chivalrye ?
Why haft thou done thy lady vilanie ?
VOL. I.
Alas of the this was a vila'inous dede.
But nowe to the purpoſe. In the story' I rede
Whan he was gonne, and this mifchaunce is fal,
This lady fent aftir her frendis al,
Fathir, mothir, and hufbonde, al yfere,
And difchevilid with her herè clere,
In habyt foche as women ufid tho
Unto the buryeng of ther frendis go,
She fate in hal with a forowful fyght:
Her frendis aikin what her aylin niyght,
And who was ded? and fae fate aye wepyng,
A worde for fhame ne may the forth out bring.
Ne upon them fhe durftê nat behold;
But at the lufte of Tarquin fhe 'hem tolde
This ruful cafe, and al this thyng horible:
The wo to tellin were impoflible
That the and all her frendis make at ones;
Al haddin folkis hertis ben of tones
It might have makid 'hem upon her rewe,
Her hert ywas fo wifely and fo trewe.
She faid that for her gilte ne for her blame
Her hufbonde fhulde nat have the foulè name;
That wolde fhe nat fuffrin by no waye.
And they answerid al unto her faye
That they foryave it her, for it was right,
It was no gylte, it lay nat in her myght,
And faydin her enfamplis many one:
But al for naught, for thus fhe faid anone,
Be as be may (quod fhe) of forgivyng,
I will nat have no forgifte for nothing
But privily the coughtin forth a knife,
And therwithal fhe rafte her felfe her life,
And as the fel adowne fhe caft her loke,
And of her clothis yet gode hede fhe toke,
For in her fallyng yet fhe had a care
Lefte that her fete or foche thingis lay bare,
So wel the lovid clenneffe and eke trouthe.
Of her had all the towne of Rome routhe,
And Brutus hath by her chafte blode yfwore
That Tarquin fhulde ybanifhed be therfore
And al his kinne, and let the peple cal,
And opinly the tale he tolde 'hem al,
And opinly let cary' her on a bere
Through al the towne, that men may fe and here
The' horible dede of her oppreffioun ;
Ne nevir was there kyng in Romè toun
Sens thylke day: and fhe was holdin there
A faynt, and evre' her day yhalowed dere
As in ther lawe. And thus endith Lucreffe
The noble wyfe, Titus berith witneffe.
I tel it for fhe was of love fo trewe,
Ne in her wil fhe chaungid for no newe,
And in her ftable hertè fadde and kinde,
That in thefe women men may al day finde
There as they caft ther hert there it dwellith
For wel I wote that Chrift himſelfe tellith
That in Ifrael, as wide as is the londe,
He fo grete faith in al the londe ne fonde
As in a woman, and this is no lie :
And as for
men, loke ye foche tyrannie
Thei done al daie, affay 'hem who ſo liſte,
The trewift is ful brotil for to trifte.
E e
434
LEGENDE OF ARIADNE OF ATHENS,
HERE FOLO WETH
THE LEGENDE OF ARIADNE.
OF ATHENS.
MINOS, Infernal Judge, of Crete the Kyng,
Now cometh thy lotte; thou comiſt on the ryng;
Nat for thy fake alone writen is this ftorye,
But for to clepe ayen unto memoric
Of Thefeus the gret untrouthe of love,
For whiche the goddis of hevin above
Ben wroth, and wrath have takin for thy fynne:
Be red for fhame, nowe I thy lyfe beginne.
Minos, that was the mighty King of Crete,
That had an hundrid cities ftrong and grete,
To ſchole hath fent his fonne Androgeus
'To Athenes, of the whiche it happid'thus,
That he was flayne, lerning philofophie
Right in that cyte, nat but for envie.
The grete Minos, of the whiche that I ſpeke,
His fonnis deth is comin for to wreke.
Alcathoe' he befiegid harde and longe,
But nathėles the wallis be fo ftronge,
And Nifus that was kyng of that cite
So chivalrous, that litil dredith he;
Of Minos or his hofte toke he no cure
Tyl on a daie befil an avinture
That Nifus doughtir ftode upon the wal,
And of the fiege behelde the manir al;
So happid it that at a ſcarmiſhing
She cafte her hert upon Minos the king,
For his beautie and for his chivalrye,
So forely that fhe wenid for to die:
And fhortly of this proceffe for to pace,
She made Minos to winnin thilke place,
So that the cite was al at his wyl
To favin whom him lifte or ellis fpill;
But wickidly he quit her kyndèneſſe,
And let her drenche in forowe and diftreffe,
N'ere that the goddis had of her pite:
1
But that tale were to longe as nowe for me.
?
Athenis was this King Minos alſo,
As Alcathoe' and othir townis mo,
And this th' effect, that Minos hath fo driven
Them of Athenis that thei mote him yeven
}
Fro yere to yere ther ownè childrin dere
For to be flaine, as ye fhal aftir here.
This Minos hath a monftre', a wickid beft,
That was fo cruil, that without areſt
Whan that a man was brought into' his prefence
He wolde him ete; there helpith no defence;
And every thirde yere withoutin doute
Thei caftidin lotte as it came aboute
On riche and pore, he muft his fonnè take,
And of his childe he muft a prefente make
To Minos, for to fave him or to fpill,
Or let his beft devour him at his will:
And this hath Minos don right in diſpite ;
To wreke his fonne was fet al his delyte,
And makin 'hem of Athenis hys thral,
Fro yere to yere while that he livin fhal;
And hom he failith whan this toun is won:
This wickid cuftome is fo long yron
Till that the King of Athenes, Ægæus,
Mote fendin his owne fonnè Thefeus,
Sens that the lotte is fallin him upon,
To ben devourid, for grace is there non:
And forth is ladde this woful yongè knight
Unto the countre' of Minos ful of night,
And in a prifon fettrid faft is he
Tyl that ilke time he fhulde yfretin be,
Wel maiſt thou wepe, o woful Thefeus!
That art a king'is fonne and damnid thus ;
Me thinkith this, that thou art depe yholde
To whom that favid the fro caris colde,
And nowe yf any woman helpè the
Wel oughtift thou her fervaunt for to be,
1
LEGENDE OF ARIADNE OF ATHENS.
435
And ben her trewe lovir yere by yere.
But nowe to come aien to my matere.
The toure there this Thefeus is throwe
Downe in the bottom derke and wondir lowe,
Was joyning to the wal of a foreine
That longing was unto the doughtrin tweine
Of Minos, whiche that in ther chambris grete
Dweltin above toward the maiſtirſtrete
Of thilke towne in joy and in folas :
N'ot I nat howe, it happened per cas,
As Thefeus complainid him by night,
The kinge's doughtir that Ariadne hight,
And eke her fuftir Phædra, herdin al
His complainte as thei ftodin on the wall
And lokid up upon the brightè mone,
'Hem liftin nat to go to bedde ſo fone,
And of his wo thei had compaffion;
A king'is fonne to be in ſoche priſon,
And ben devoured, thought 'hem grete pite :
Than Ariadne ſpake to' her fuftir fre,
And fayd, Phædra, my lefe fuftir dere!
This woful lord'is fonne maie ye nat here
Howe pitously he complainith his kinne,
And eke his pore eſtate that he is inne,
And giltileffe certis nowe it is routhe,
And if ye wol affentin, by my trouthe
He fhal ben holpin, howe ſo that we do.
Phædra anfwerde, Ywis me is as wo
For him, as er I was for any man,
And to his helpe the beft rede that I can
Is, that we done the gailir privily
To come and fpekin with us haftily,
And done this woful man with him to come,
For if he maie this monſtir ovircome
Than were he quite, there is non other bote:
Let us wel taſte him at his hert'is rote,
That if fo be that he a wepon have,
Where that he dare, his life to kepe and fave,
Fightin with this fende, and himſelf defende,
For in the prifon there he ſhal diſcende :
Ye wote wel that the beft is in a place
*
That is not derke, and hath roume and eke ſpace
To welde an axe, or fwerde, a ſtaffe, or knife,
So that me thinkith he fhulde fave his life;
If that he be a man he fhal do fo:
And we fhal make him ballis eke alfo
Of wexe and towe, that whan he gapith faſt
Into the beſt'is throte he fhal 'hem cafte
To fleke his hongir and encombre his tethe,
And right anon whan that Thefeus fethe
The beſt achekid he fhal on him lepe
To fleen him or they comin more to hepe;
This wepon fhal the gailir or that tyde
Ful privily within the priſon hyde :
And for the houfe is crenclid to and fro,
And hath fo queinte wayis for to go,
For it is fhapin as the mafe is wrought,
Therto have I a remedy' in my thought,
That by a clewe of twyne as he hath gon
The fame way he may returne anon,
Folo'wing alway the threde as he hath come:
And whan that he this beft hath ovircome
Than may he flien away out of this ſtede,
And eke the gailir may he with him lede,
And him avaunce at home in his countre,
Sens that ſo gret a lord'is fonne is he,
you
This is my rede, if that ye dare it take.
What fhulde I lengir fermon of it make?
The gailir cometh, and with him Thefeus;
And whan theſe thingis ben accordid thus,
Adowne fate Thefeus upon his kne;
O the right lady of my life! (quod he)
I forowfull man, ydamnid to the dethe,
Fro whilis that me ylaftith brethe
I wol nat twinne aftir this avinture,
But in your ſervice thus I wol endure,
That as a wretch unknow I wol you ferve
For evirmore tyl that min hertè fterve;
Forfake I wol at home min heritage,
And as I faied ben of your courte a page,
If that ye vouchſafin that in this place
Ye grauntin me to havin ſoche a grace
That I may have nat but my mete and drinke;
And for my fuftinaunce yet wol I fwinke
Right as you lift, that Minos ne no wight
Sens that he faw me nevir with eyenfight,
Ne no man ellis, fhal me nat elpye,
So flily and fo wel I lhal me gye,
And me fo wel disfigure and fo lowe,
That in this world there fhal no man me knowe,
To have my lyfe and to have the prefence
Of you that done to me this excellence ;
And to my fathir fhal I ſendin here
This worthy man, which that is your gaylere,
And him fo guerdon that he fhal wel be
One of the gretift men of my countre:
And if I durftè fayne, my lady bright!
I am a king is fonne and eke a knight,
As wolde God if that it mighte ybe
Ye werin in my countre alle thre,
And I with you to bere you companye,
Than fhuld you fene if that I therof lye,
And if I profir you în lowe manere
To ben your page, and fervin you right here,
But I you ferve as lowly in that place
Ypray to Mars to yeve me fochè grace
That fham'is deth on me there motè fall,
And deth and poverte to my frendis all,
And that my fprite by night mote go
Aftir my deth and walkin to and fro,
That I mote of foule traitour have a name,
For whiche my ſprit mote go, to do me fhamtë,
And if I clayne evir othir degre,
But ye vouchfafin to grauntin it me,
As I have faid, of fham'is deth I dey,
And mercy, lady! I can naught els fey.
A femely knight was this Thefeus to fe,
And yonge, but of twenty yere and thre,
But who fo had yfene his countinaunce
He would have wept for routh of his penaunce,
For which this Ariadne' in this manere
Anfwerde to his profre and to his chere:
A kyng'is fonne and eke a knight (quod fhe)
To ben my fervaunt in fo low degre
God fhuld it! for the fhame of women al,
And lene me nevir foche a cafe befal,
And fende you grace and fleight of hert alfo
You to defende and knightly fleen your foe,
Beij
436
LEGENDE OF ARIADNE OF ATHENS.
And lene here aftir that I may you finde
To me and to my fuftir here fo kynde
That I ne repent nat to yeve you lyfe;
Yet were it bettir that I were your wife,
Sithe that ye ben as gentil borne as I,
And have a reime nat ferre but fafte by,
Than I fuffrid your gentilleffe to ſterve,
Or that I let you as a page to ferve;
It is no profite unto your kinrede,
But what is that that men n'ill do for dred?
And to my fuftir, fyth that it is fo
That the mote gone with me if that I go,
Or ellis fuffre deth as wel as I,
That ye unto your fonne as trewily
Done her be weddid at your home comming;
This is the fynal ende of al this thing,
Ye fwere it here on all that may be fworne.
Ye, lady myn, (quod he) or els to torne
Mote I be with the Minotaure to morowe,
And havith here of min hert blod to borowe,
If that ye wol, if I had knife or fpere
I wolde it lettin out and thereon fwere,
For than at erfte I wot ye would me leve,
By Mars, that is the chiefe of my beleve,
So that I mightin lyvin and nat faile
To morowe for to takin my bataile
I ne wolde nevir fro this placè flye
Tyl that ye fhulde the very profe yfe;
For now, if that the foth I fhall you fay,
I have lovid you fui many a daie,
Though ye ne wift it nat, in my countre,
And aldirmofte defyrid you to ſc
Of any earthly living creature;
Upon my trouthe I fwere and you aſſure,
This fevin yere I have your fer vaunt be;'
Nowe have I you, and alfo have ye me,
My dere hert of Athenis Ducheffe.
This lady fmilith at his ftedfaftneffe,
And at his hertely wordes, and at his chere,
And to her fuftir fayd in this manere:
And fothely, leve all fuftir myn, (quod fhe)
Nowe be we ducheffis both I and ye,
And fikerde to the regals of Athenes,
And bothe hereaftir likely to be quenes,
And favid fro his deth a king'is fonne,
As er of gentilwomen is the wonne
To fave a gentilnian cnforth ther might,
In honeft caufe, and namely in his right,
Me thinkith no wight ought us hereof blame,
Ne berin us therfore an evil name.
And ſhortly of this matir for to make,
This Thefeus of her hath leve ytake,
And every point was performed in dede
As ye have in this covenaunt herde me rede ;
His wepen, his clewe, his thing, that I have faid,
Was by the gailir in the houfe ylaid,
There as the Mynotaure hath his dwellyng,
Right fafte by the dore at his entring,
And Thefeus is lad unto his dethe;
And forth unto this Minotaure he gethe,
And by the teching of this Adriane
He ovircame this beft and was his bane;
And out he comith by the clewe againe
Ful privily whan he this beft hath flaine,
:
}
And by the gailir gottin hath a barge,
And of his wiv'is trefure gan it charge,
And toke his wife and eke her fuftir fre,
And eke the gailir, and with 'hem al thre
Is ftole away out of the londe by night,
And to the countrc' of Enupie him dight,
Thereas he had a frende of his knowing;
There feftin thei, there dauncin thei and fing
And in his armis hath this Adriane,
That of the beſt hath kept him fro his bane,
And get him there a noble barge anone,
And of his countre folke a ful gret wone,
And taketh his leve, and homwarde failith he;
And in an yle amiddis the wilde fe,
Thereas there dwellid nevir creture none
Save wild beftis, and that ful many one,
He made his hippe alonde for to fette,
And in that yle halfe a daie he lette,
And fayd, that on the londe he muſt him reftes
His mariners have done right as him lefte:
And for to tellin fhortly in this cafe,
Whan Ariadne his wife aflepe was,
For that her fuftir fayrir was than fhe,
He taketh her in his honde, and forth goth he
To fhyppe, and as a traitour ftale away
While that this Ariadne aflepe lay,
And to his countre warde he failith blive,
A twenty dyvil way the winde him drive,
And found his fathir drenchid in the ſe.
Me lyfte no more to fpeke of him parde;
Thefe falfè lovirs poifon be ther bane!/
But I wol turne againe to Adriane,
That is with flepe for werineffe ytoke,
Ful forowfully her hert may awake.
Alas! for the myne herte hath grete pite.
Right in the dawning awakith fhe,
And gropith in the bed, and fond right nought.
Alas, (quod ſhe) that evir I was wrought!
I am betrayid, and her here to rente,
And to the ftronde all barefote faft fhe wente,
And cryid, Thefeus, myn herte ſwete !
Where be ye, that I may nat with you mete,
And might thus with the beltis ben yflaine?
The halowe rockis anfwerde her againe;
No man fhe fawe, and yet yfhone the mone;
And hye upon a rocke the wentin fone,
And fawè his barge yfailing in the ſe;
Colde woxe her hert, and right thus fayid fhe:
Mekir than ye finde I the beftis wylde.
Hath he nat fynne that he her thus begylde?
She cried, O turne againe for routhe and finne !
Thy barge ne hath nat al his meinè inne.
Her couverchefc on a pole ftyked the
Afcaunce that he fhulde it wele yfe,
And him remembre that the was behinde,
And turne againe, and on the ftronde her finde,
But all for naught; his way he is ygone;
And downe fhe fel a fwowne upon a ftone,
And up the rifte, and kiffed in all her care
The fteppis of his fete there he hath fare,
And to her bed right thus fhe fpekith tho:
Thou bed, (quod fhe) that haft recevid two,
Thou shalt anfwere of two and not of one;
Where is the greter perte away gone?
LEGENDE OF
437
ARIADNE OF ATHENS.
Alas! wher fhal I wretched wight become?
For though ſo be that botè none here come
Home to my countrè dare I nat for drede;
I can my ſelfin in this cafe nat rede.
What ſhould I tellin more here complaining?"
It is fo long it were an hevy thing;
In her epiftle Naſo tellith all.
But ſhortly to the ende tellin I fhall,
The goddis have her holpin for pyte,
And in the fygne of Taurus men may fe
The ftonis of her corowne fhynè clere.
I will no more fpekin of this matere,
But thus this falfe lovir can begile
His trew love; the devil quit him his while!
É e iij
1
433
LEGENDE OF PHILOMELA.
HERE FOLO WE TH
THE LEGENDE OF PHILOMELA.
Tnou ycvir of the formis that haft wrought
Που
The fayre world, and bare it in thy thought
Eternally er thou thy werke began,
Why madift thou to the flaundir of man?
Or allbe that it was not thy doyng,
As for that ende to making foche a thing,
Why fuffredeft thou that Tereus was bore,
'That is in love ſo falſe and ſo forfwore,
That fro this world up to the first hevin
Corrumpith whan that folke his name nevin?
And as to me, fo grilly was his dede,
That whan that I this foulè ftorie rede
Myne eyin wexin foule and fore alfo,
Yet lafteth the venyme of fo long ago
"That it enfectith him that wolde beholde
'The ftorie of Tereus of which I tolde.
Of Thrace was he the lorde, and kyn to Marte,
The cruil god that ftante with blody darte;
And weddid had he with full blifsful chere
King Pandion'is fairè doughtir dere
That hight Progne, the floure of her countre,
Though Juno lifte not at the feſt to be
Ne Hymen, that the god of Weddyng is,
But at the feftè redy ben iwis
The Furis three, with all ther mortall bronde.
The oule all night above the balkis wonde,
That prophete is of wo and of mifchaunce.
This revill, full of fong and full of daunce,
Lafted a fourtènight or little laffe :
But ſhortlic of this ſtorie for to paſſe,
(For I am weric of hym for to tell)
Five yere his wife and he togithir dwell,
Till on a daie fhe gan fo fore to long
To fene her fuftir, that the fawe not long,
That for defire fhe ne wift what to faie,
But to her huſbonde gan ſhe for to praie,
For Godd'is love, that fhe mote onis gone
To fene her fuftre', and come ayen anon,
Or ellis but the motè to her wende
gon,
She praied him that he would aftir her fende;
And this was daie by daie all her praiere,
With all humbleffe of wifehode, worde, and chere
This Tereus let make his fhippis yare,
And into Grece hymfelf is forthe ifare:
Unto his fathir in lawe gan he praie
To vouchefafin that for a moneth or twaie
That Philomela his wive's fuftir might
On Progne' his wife but onis have a fight,
And the fhall come to you again anon,
My felf with her I will bothe come and
And as my hert's life I will her kepe.
This olde Pandion, this kyng, gan to wepe
For tendirneffe of hertè for to leve
His doughtir gon, and for to yeve her leve;
Of all this worlde he lovid nothyng fo;
But at the laflè leve hath fhe to go,
For Philomela with falt teris cke
Gan of her fathir his grace to befeke
To fene her fuftir, that her longith fo,
And hym enbracith with her armis two:
And therewithal fo yonge and faire was fhe,
That when that Tereus fawe her beaute,
And of arraie that there was none her liche,
And yet of beaute was fhe to fo riche,
He caft his fierie herte upon her fo
That he woll have her how fo that it go,
And with his wilis knelid and fo praied
Till at the laft Pandion thus yfaied:
Now fonne, (quod he) that art to me fo dere,
I the betake my yonge doughtir here,
That bereth the keie of all myne hert'is life,
And grete me well my doughtir and thy wife;
1
3
LEGENDE
439
OF PHILOMELA.
And yeve her levè fomtyme for to pleie,
'That the maie fe me onis or I deie.
And fothly he hath made hym richè fcft,
And to his folke the mofte and eke the left
That with him came, and yave him yeftis grete,
And him conveyith through the maftirftrete
Of Athenis and to the fe hym brought,
And tournith home, no malice he ne thought.
The oris pullith forth the veffil faft,
And into Thrace arrivith at the laſt,
And up into a foreſt he her led,
And to a cave full privily hym fped,
And in this dark cave, if that her left
Or ne lift nought, he bad her for to reſt,
Of whiche her herte agrofe, and fajid thus:
Where is my fuftir, brothir Tereus?
And there withall fhe wept full tendirlie,
And quoke for fere all pale and pituouſlie,
Right as the lambe that of the wolfe is bitten,
Or as the culver that of the' egle is fmitten,
And is out of his clawis forthe eſcaped,
Yet it is ftill aferde and fore awhaped,
Left it be hent eftfonis; fo fate fhe:
But uttirlie it maie none othir be,
By force hath this traitour ydoen a dede
That he hath reft her of her maidinhede
Maugre her hed, by ftrength and by his might.
Lo, here a dede of men, and that aright!
She cryith Suftir with full loudè ſteven,
And Fathir dere! o helpe me God in heven!
All helpith not: and yet this falfe thefe
Hath doen his lady yet a more miſchefe,
For fere left that the fhould his fhamè crie,
And doen him opinlie a vilanie,
And with his fwerd her tong of kerfith he,
And in a caftill made her for to be
Full privily in priſone evirmore,
And kept her to his ufage and his ſtore,
So that she ne might nevir more afterte.
O fely Philomela wo' is thine herte,
Huge ben thy forowis, and wondir fmerte;
God ŵrek the, and fendè the thy bone!
Now it is time I make an endè fone.
This Tereus is to his wife icome,
And in his armis hath his wife inome,
And pitously he wept, and fhoke his hedde,
And ſwore her that he found her fuftir dedde,
For whiche this felie Progne hath foche wo
That nigh her forowfull herte brake atwo :
And thus in teris let I Progne dwell,
And of her fuftir forthe I woll you tel.
This wofull ladie lernid had in youth
So that the workin and enbraudin couth,
And wevin in her ftole the radèvore,
As it of women hath ben wovid yore;
And, fothly for to faine, fhe hath her fill
Of mete and drinke, of clothing at her will,
And couth eke rede well inough and endíte,
But with a pennè fhe ne could not write,
But lettirs can fhe wevin to and fro,
So that by that the yere was all ago
She had ywovin in a ftamen large
How ſhe was brought fro Athens in a barge,
And in a cave how that fhe was ybrought,
And all the thyng that Tereus ywrought
She wave it wel, and wrote the ftorie' above
How the was fervid for her fuftir's love;
And to a knave a ring the yave anon,
And prayid him by fignis for to gon
Unto the Quene, and berin her that clothe,
And by fignis fwore him many an othe
She ſhould him yevin what the gettin might.
This knave anon unto the Quene him dight,
And toke it her, and all the manir tolde:
And when that Progne hath this thing behold
No worde the ipake for forowe and for rage,
But fainid her to gon on pilgrimage
To Bacchus temple'; and in a little ftounde
Her dombe fuftir ylittyng hath ſhe founde,
Weping in the caftill her felf alone;
Alas the wo, the conſtraint, and the mone,
That Progne upon her dombe fuftir maketh
In armis everiche of 'hem othir taketh:
And thus I let 'hem in ther forowe dwell,
The remènaunt is no charge for to tell,
For this is all and fome, thus was the ferved
That nevir ought agiltid ne deferved
Unto this cruill man that ſhe of wiſte.
Ye maie beware of men if that you liſte,
For all be that he woll not for his fhame
Doin as Tereus to lefe his name,
Ne ferve you as a murtherer or a knave,
Full little while fhullin ye trewe him have,
That woll I fain, al wer he now my brother,
But it fo be that he maie have none other.
E e iiij
.
>
410
LEGENDE OF PHYLLIS
*
t
HERE FOLO WETH
1
THE LEGENDE OF PHYLLIS.
་
By prove as well as by authorite
'That wickid fruite commeth of a wicked tre
That maie ye find if that it likith you;
But for this ende I fpeke this as now,
To tellin you of falfe Demophoon;
In love a falfir herd I nevir non
But it werin his fathir Thefeus;
God for his grace fro foche one kepin us
Thus thefe women yprayin that it here;
Now the' effecte tourne I of my matere.
us!
Deſtroyid is of Troie the cite;
This Demophon came failyng in the fe
Toward Athenis, to his paleis large;
With him came many a fhip and many' a barge
All full of folke, of whiche full many one
;
Is wounded'fore, and fike, and wo begone,
And thei have at the fiegè long ilaine
Behind him came a winde and eke a raine
'That ſhofe fo fore his faile ne might not ftonde,
Hym were levir then all the worlde a londe;
So huntith hym the tempeft to and fro,
So dark it was he could no where ago,
And with a wave to bruftin was his ſtere
His fhip was rent fo lowe in foche manere
That carpenter ne coulde it not amende;
The fe by night as any torche brende
For wode, and poffith him up and doun,
'Till Neptune hath of hym compaffioun,
And Thetis, Chorus, Triton, and thei all,
And madin him opon a londe to fall
Whereof that Phyllis lady was and quene,
Lycurgus doughtir, fairir unto fene
Then is the floure again the brightè fonne :
Unneth is Demphon to londe iwonne,
Weke and eke weric, and his folke forpined
Of werineffe, and alfo enfamined,
.And to the deth he was alınofte idriven :
His wife folke counfaile have him yeven
To fekin helpe and fuccour of the Quene,
And lokin what his grace mightin bene,
And makin in that lande fome chevefaunce,
And kepin him fro wo and fro mifchaunce,
For fike he was and almofte at the deth,
Unnethis might he fpeke or drawin breth,
And lieth in Rhodopeia hym to reſte.
When he may walkin him thought it was befte
Unto the courte to fekin for fuccour ;
Men knewe him wele, and diddin hym honour,
For at Athenis duke and lorde was he,
As Thefeus his fathir hath ibe,
That in his tyme was of grete renoun,
No man fo grete in all his regioun,
And like his fathre' of face and ftature,
And falfe of love, it came hym of nature,
As doeth the foxe Renarde, the fox'is fonne,
Of kinde he could his olde fathir wonne.
Withoutin lore, as can a drakè ſwimme
When it is caught and caried to the brimme.
This honourable Phyllis doth him chere;
Her likith well his porte and his manere;
But I am all agrotid here beforne
To write of 'hem that in love ben forfworne,
And eke to haftin me in my Legende,
Whiche to performè God me grace yfende,
Therefore I paflin fhortly in this wife.
Ye have well herd of Thefeus the gife
In the betraying of faire Adriane,
That of her pite kept him fro his bane;
At fhort wordis, right fo Demophoon
The fame waie and the fame pathe hath gon
That did his falfè fathir Thefeus,
For unto Phyllis hath he fwornè thus,
To weddin her, and her his trouth yplight,
And pikid of her all the gode he might,
Whan he was whole and founde, and had his refte,
And doeth with Phillis what fo that him left,
4
LEGENDE OF PHYLLIS.
44
As well I could, if that me liftè fo,
Tellin of all his doying to and fro.
He faled that to his countre mote hym faile,
For there he would her weddyng apparaile
As fill to her honour and his alfo :
And opinly he toke his levè tho,
And to her fwore that he would not fojourne,
But in a moneth again he would retourne,
And in that londe let make his ordinaunce
As very lorde, and toke the obeiſaunce
Well and humbly, and his fhippis ydight,
And home he goith the next waie he might,
But unto Phyllis again came he nought,
Ard that hath ſhe ſo harde and fore ibought,
Alas as the ſtorie doeth us recorde,
;
That she was her owne deth right with a corde,
When that ſhe ſaw that Demophon her traied;
But first wrote the to him, and faſt him praid
He would come and delivir her of pain,
As I reherfin fhall a worde or twain
Me lifte not to vouchfafe on him to fwinke,
Dipendin ou him a penne full of ynke,
For falfe in love was he, right as his fire,
The devil fet ther foulis both on fire!
But of the lettre' of Phyllis woll I write
A worde or twain, although it be but lite.
Thine hofteffe, (quod fhe) o Demophoon !
Thy Phyllis, which that is ſo wo begon,
Of Rhodopeie upon you mote complain,
Ovir the terme y fet betwixt us twain
That ye ne holdin forwarde as ye faied;
Your ancre, whiche ye in our havin laied,
Hight us that ye world comin out of doubt
Or that the monè onis went about,
But timis fower the mone hath hid her face
Sens thilke daie ye wentin fro this place
And fowir timis light the worlde again
But for all that yet fhall I fothly fain
Yet hath the ftreme of Scython not ybrought
From Athenis the fhip, yet came it nought;
And if that ye the termè rekin would
As I or othir true lovirs doe fhould,
I plainin not (God wot) before my daie.
But all her lettir writin I ne maie
By ordir, for it were to me a charge;
Her lettir was right long, and thereto large,
But here and there in rhime I have it laied
There as me thought that ſhe hath wel yfaied.
She faied, The failis comith not again,
Ne to the worde there n'is no fey certain;
But I wot why ye comin not, (quod fhe)
For I was of my love to you ſo fre;
And of the goddis that ye have yfwore
If that ther vengeaunce fall on you therefore
Ye be not fuffifaunt to bere the pain;
To mochil truftid I, well maie I fain,
Upon your linage and your faire tong,
And on your teris fafly out ywrong:
How coud ye wepin fo by craft? (quod fhe)
Maie there foch teris evir fainid be?
Now certis if ye would have in memorie
It oughtin be to you but little glorie
To have a felie maidin thus betraied:
To God (quod fhe) praie I, and oft have praied,
That it be now the gretift price of all
And mofte honour that er you fhall befall;
And when thine old auncetirs paintid be,
In whiche men maie ther worthineſſe yſe,
Then praie I God thou paintid be alfo,
That folke maie redin fortheby as thei go,
Lo! this is he that with his flattiry
Betrayid hath and doen her villany
That was his true love in thought and dede?
But fothly of o poinct yet maie thei rede,
That ye ben like your fathir as in this,
For he begilid Ariadne' iwis
With fuche an arte and foche a fubtilte
As thou thy felvin haft beguilid me;
As in that point, although it be not feire,
Thou folowit certain, and art his heire
But fens thus finfully ye me begile
My bodis mote ye fene within a while
Right in the haven of Athenis fletyng
Withoutin fepulture and burying,
Though ye ben hardir then is any ſtone.
And when this lettir was forth fent anone,
And knewe how brotill and how fals he was,
She for difpaire forbid her felf, alas!
Suche forowe' hath fhe for fhe befet her fo.
Beware ye women of your fubtill fo,
Sens yet this daie men maie enfample fe,
And truſtith now in love no man but me.
1
LEGENDE OF HYPERMNESTRA.
442
HERE FOLO WETH
THE LEGENDE OF HYPERMNESTRA.
IN Grece whilom were dwelling brethrene two,
Of whiche that one was callid Danao,
'That many' a fonne hath of his bodie wonne,
As foche falfe loviris oftimis conne.
Emongis his fonnis all there was one
That aldirmofte he loved of everychone,
And when this child was borne this Danao
Shope him a name, and callid hym Lino;
That othir brothir callid was Egifte,
That was of love as falfe as er him lifte;
And many' a daughtir gate he in his life,
Of whiche he gate upon his rightè wife
A doughtir dere, and did her for to call
Hypermneftra, the youngift of 'hem all,
The whichè childe of her nativite
To alle gode thewis yborne was ſhe,
As likid to the goddes or fhe was borne
'That of the fhefe fhe fhould be the corne:
The werdis that we clepin Deftine
Hath fhapin her that ſhe muſt nedis be
Pitous, and fad, and wife, and true as ftele;
And to this woman it accordith wele,
For though that Venus yave her
grete beute
With Jupiter compownid fo was the
That confcience and trouthe, and drede of flame,
And of her wifehode for to kepe her name,
This thought her was felicite as here:
And Red Mars was at that tyme of the yere
So feble that his malice is him rafte,
Repreffid hath Venus his cruill crafte,
And what with Venus and othir oppreffion
Of houfis Mars his venime is adon,
That Hypermneftra dare not handle' a knife
In malice, though the fhouldin lefe her life;
But nathèleffe as hevin gan tho turne,
Two bad afpe&is hath the of Saturne,
That made her for to dyin in prifon;
And I fhall aftir makin mencion
Of Danao and Egiſtis alſo,
And though fo be that thei were brethrin two,
For thilke tyme n'as fparid no linage,
It likid 'hem to makin mariage
Betwixt Hypermneſtra and him Lino,
And caftin in foche a daie it fhall be fo,
And full accordid was it uttirly,
The' araic is wrought, the tyme is faftè by;
And thus Lino hath of his fathir's brother
The doughtir wedded, and ech of 'hem hath other
The torchis brennin and the lampis bright,
The facrificis ben full redy dight,
Th' enfence out of the fire out rekith fote,
The floure the lefe, is rent up by the rote
To makin garlandis and croumis hie;
Full is the place of found of minftralcie,
Of fongis amourous of mariage,
As thilke tyme was the plain uſage;
And this was in the paleis of Egilte,
That in his hous was lord right as him lifte;
And thus that daie thei drivin to an ende,
The frendis takin leve, and home thei wend:
The night is come, the bride ſhall
the bride fhall go to bed,
Egiftis to his chamber faſt him ſped,
And privily he let his doughtir call
When that the hous voidid was of 'hem all;
He lokith on his doughtir with glade chere,
And to her ſpake as ye fhall aftir here:
My right doughtir, the trefour of mine herte!
Sens firft that daie that ſhapin was my fherte,
Or by the Fatall Suftir had my dome,
So nye myne hertè nevir thing ne come,
As thou my Hypermneftra, doughtir dere!
Take hede what thy fathir fayith the here,
And werke aftir thy wifir evirmo,
For aldirfirft doughtir I love the fo
That all the worlde to me n'is halfe fo lefe,
Ne I n'olde rede the to thy miſcheſe
LEGENDE OF HYPERMNESTRA.
443
For all the gode undir the coldè mone;
And what I mene it fhal be faid right fone,
With proteſtacion, as faine theſe wife,
That but thou doc as I fhall the devife
Thou shalt be ded, by him that al hath wrought:
At ſhortè wordis, thou ne ſcapiſt nought
Out of my palcis or that thou be dede
But thou confent and werke aftir my rede;
Take this to the for full conclufioun.
This Hypermneftra caft her eyin doun,
And quoke as doeth the lefe of aſpis grene,
Did wext her hew, and like afhin to fene,
And ſayid; Lorde and fathir, all your will,
Aftir my might, God wote I fhall fulfill,
So it be to me no confufion.
I n'ill (quod he) have non exception,
And out he caught a knife as rafour kene;
Hide this (quod he) that it be nat iſene,
And when thine hufbonde is to bed ygo,
While that he flepith cut his throte atwo,
For in my dreme it is ywarnid me
How that my nevewe ſhall my bane ybe,
But whiche I n'ot, wherefore I woll be fiker;
If thou faie naie we two fhall have a biker,
As I have faied, by him that I have fworne.
This Hypermneſtra' hath nigh her wit forlorn,
And for to paſſe harmeleffe out of that place
She grauntid him, there was non othir grace.
And therewithall a coſtrill takith he,
And faied, Hercof a draught or two, or thre,
Yeve him to drinke when he goith to refte,
And he ſhall ſlepe as long as er the lefte,
The narcotikes and apies ben fo ftrong,
And go thy waie, left that him thinke to long.
Out cometh the bride, and with full fobre chere,
As is of maidins oftin the manere,
To chambir brought with revil and with fong:
And ſhortlie, lefte this talè be to long,
This Lino and fhe beth bin brought to bed,
And every wight out at the dore him ſped.
The night is waſtid, and he fell aſlepe;
Full tendirly beginnith fhe to wepe;
She rift her up, and dredefully fhe quaketh,
As doeth the braunch that Zephyrus yſhaketh;
And huſht were all in Aragone that cite:
As colde as any froſte now wexith ſhe,
For pite by the herte ftrainid her ſo,
And drede of deth doith her fo moche wo,
That thryis doune fhe fill; in foche a were
She rifte her up, and ftekereth here and there,
And on her handis faftè lokith fhe;
Alas! quod fhe, ſhall myne handes blodie be!
I am a maidin, and by my nature,
And by my femblaunt, and by my vefture,
Myne haundis ben not ſhapin for a knife,
As for to revin no man fro his life:
What devill have I with the knife to do?
And ſhall I have my throte ycorve atwo?
Then fhall I blede, alas! and be yfhende:
And nedis of this thing mote have an ende;
Or he or I mote nedis lefe our life:
Now certis (quod fhe) fens I am his wife,
And hath my feithe, yet is it bette for me
For to be dedde in wifely honeſte
Then be a traitour living in my ſhame:
Be as be maie, for erneſt or for game,
He fhall awake, and rife and go his waie
Out at this guttir er that it be daie;
And wept full tendirlie upon his face,
And in her armis gan him to embrace,
And him the roggith and awakith foft;
And at the windowe lepe he fro the loft
When fhe hath warnid him and doen him bote,
This Lino fwift ywas and light of fote,
And from his wife he ran a full gode pace
This felie woman is fo weke, alas!
And helpleffe, fo that er fhe ferrè went
Her cruill fathir did her for to hent.
Alas, Lino! why art thou ſo unkinde ?
Why ne haft thou remembrid in thy minde
And takin her and led her forthe with the?
For when ſhe ſawe that gone awaie was he,
And that ſhe ne might not fo faft ygo,
Ne folowin him, fhe fate doune right tho
Til fhe was caught and fettrid in prifon;
This Tale is faied for this conclufion,
444
A PRAISE OF WOMEN.
A PRAISE OF WOMEN.
Ar. tho that lyite of women ill to fpeke,
And fayin of 'hem worse than they deferve,
I pray to God that ther neckis to breke,
Or on fome yll dethe mote tho janglirs fterve,
For every man were holdin 'hem to ferve,
And do 'hem worſhip, honour, and ferviſe,
In every manir they beſt coude devife.
For we ought firſt to think on what manere
Thei bring us forth, and what pain thei endure
Firſt in our byrth, and fith fro yere to yere
How bufily they done ther buſy cure
To kepe us fro every myfavinture
In our youthhed, whan that we have no might
Our felfe to kepe neythir by day nor night.
Alas! howe may we fay on 'hem but wele
Of whom we were yfoftred and ybore,
And ben all our focoure, and trewe as ftele,
And for our fake ful ofte they fuffre fore?
Without women were al our joye ylore,
Wherfore we ought al women to obey
In al godeneffe; I can no more yſay.
1
This is wel knowin, and hath ben or this,
That women ben the cauſe of al lightneffe,
Knighthode, norture, efchewing al malis,
Encrefe of worfhip and of worthineffe,
Therto curteys meke, grounde of alle godeneffe,
Glad and mery, and trewe in every wife
That any gentle' hert can thinke or devife.
And though any would truft to your untruth,
And to your faire wordis would aught affent,
In gode faith methinkith it wer grete ruth
'That othre' women fhould for ther gilt be fhent
That ner knew ne wift nought of ther entent,
Ne lift not to here the faire wordes ye write,
Whiche ye you paine fro daie to daie t'endite.
But who maie beware of your tales untrue
That ye fo bufilie painte and endite?
For ye will fwerin that ye nevir knewe
Ne fawe the woman neither moche ne lite,
Save only her to whom ye had delite
As for to ferve of all that er ye fey,
And for her love muft ye nedis dey.
Then wil ye fwere that ye knew ner before
What Love was, ne his dredful obfervaunce,
But now ye felin that he can wounde fore,
Wherefore ye put you' into her govirnaunce
Whom Love hath ordeined you to ferve and do ple-
faunce
With al your might your lityl liv'is fpace,
Whiche endith fone but if the doe you grace;
And then to bedde will ye you fone ydrawe,
And fone your felvis ficke ye will then fain,
And fwerin faft your ladie hath you flawe,
And brought you fodainly in fo high pain
That fro your deth maie no man you reftrain,
With, a danngerous loke of her eyin two,
That to your dethe muft ye nedis go.
Thus will ye morne, thus will ye fighin fore,
As though your hert anon in two wold breft,
And fwerin faft that ye maie live no more,
Myne ownè ladie, that might if ye left
Bryngin myne hertè fomedele into reſt,
As if you lift mercie on me to have,
Thus your untrouth will evir mercie crave.
Thus woll.ye plainin tho you nothing ſmerte
Thefe innocent cretures for to begile,
And fwere to 'hem fo woundid is your herte
For love of them that ye maie live no while,
Scarffie fo long as one might go a mile;
So hyith Deth to bryng you to an ende
But if your foverain lady lift you' amende.
And if the comfort you in any wife
For routhe for pite' of your falſe othis fere,
So that fhe weneth it be as you deviſe,
And wenith your herte be as fhe maie here,
Thus to comfort and fomwhat do you chere,
Then woll thefe janglirs deme of her full ill,
And faine ye have her fully at your will.
Lo, how redie ther tongis ben and preſt
To fpekin harme of women caufileffe!
Alas! why might ye not as well faie the beſt
As for to demin 'hem thus giltileffe ?
In your herte iwis there' is no gentlincffe
That of your own gilt lifte thus women fame;
Now by my trouth me thinke yc be to blame,
For of women comith this worldly wele,
Wherefore we ought worship 'hem evirmore,
And though it mishap one we ought to hele,
For it is all thorough our falfè lore,
That daie and night we pain us evirmore
With many' an othe thefe women to begile
With falfe talis and many' a wickid wile.
A PRAISE
445
OF WOMEN.
事
​And if fallhede fhould be reckened and told
Et n'ere in women iwis full trouth were
Not as in men is by a thouſande fold,
Fro all vicis iwis thei ftandin clere,
In any thing that er I could of here,
But if entifyng of thefe men it make,
That 'hem to flatteren connin nevir flake.
I would fain wete where evir ye coud here
Without mens tifing women did amis;
There ye get 'hem ye lie fro yere to yere,
And many' a gabbyng ye make to' 'hem iwis,
For I could nevir here ne knowen er this
Where evir ye coude finde in any place
That evir women befought you of grace.
'There ye you painin with al your full might,
With all your herte and all your bufineffe,
To plefin 'hem aye both by daie and night,
Fraying 'hem of ther grace and gentilneffe
To have pite upon your grete diſtreſſe,
And that thei woldin on your pain have routh,
And fle you not, fithin ye mene but trouth.
Thus maie fein that thei ben fautleffe,
And innocent to all your werkis flie;
And all your craftis that touchin falfneffe
'Thei knowe 'hem not, ne maie 'hem not efpie;
So fwerin ye that ye muft nedis die
But if thei wouldin of ther womanhedde
Upon your trouth rewe er that ye be dedde.
And then your lady and your hert'is quene
Ye callin 'hem, and therewith ye figh fore,
And faie, My ladie', I trowe that it be fene
In what plite that I have livid full yore,
But now I hope that ye wollin no more
In thefe pains fuffre me for to dwell,
For of all godeneffe iwis ye be the' well.
Lo, whiche a paintid proceffe can`ye make
Thefe harmleffe creturis for to begile!
And when thei flepe ye painin you to wake,
And to bethinke you' on many' a wickid wile;
But ye fhal fe the daie that ye fhall curfe the while
That ye fo bufily did your entent
Hem to begile that falfhed nevir ment.
For this ye know wel, though I wouldin lie,
In women is all trouth and ftedfaftneffe,
For in gode faithe I nevir of 'hem fie
But moche worship, bounte, and gentilneffe,
Right commyng, faire, and full of mekèncffe,
Gode and glad, and lowlie I you enfure,
Is this godelie and angelike creture.
And if it happe a man be in difefe
She doeth her bufineffe and her full paine
With al her might him to comfort and pleſe,
If fro his difefe ſhe might hyn reſtrain:
In worde ne dede iwis fhe woll not faine
With al her might fhe doth her buſineſſe
To bryngin hym out of his hevineſſe.
Lo, here what gentilleffe thefe women have!
If we could knowe it for our rudèneffe
How bufie thei be us to kepe and fave
Bothe in hele and alſo in fickèneffe,
And alwale right forie for our diſtreſſe;
In every manir thus fhewe thei routhe,
That in 'hem is all godeneffe and all trouthe.
And fith we find in 'hem gentilneffe, trouth,
Worship, bounte, and kindneffe, evirmore,
Let nevir this gentilleffe through your flouth
In ther kinde trouth be evir aught forlore
That in women is and hath ben full yore,
For in revèrence of heven'is quenc
We ought to worſhip all women that bene;
For of all cretures that were get and borne
This wote ye well a woman was the beft;
By her was recovered the blis we' had lorne,
And through that woman ſhall we come to reft
And ben ifavid, if that our felf left;
Wherefore me thinkith if that we had grace
We oughten honour women in every place.
Therefore I rede that to our liv'is ende,
Fro this time forth while that we havin fpace,
That we have treſpaced purſue to amende,
Praying our Ladie, the welle of all grace,
To bryngin us unto that blisfull place
There as ſhe' and all gode women fhall be' in feres
In hevin above, emong the angils clere.
3
446
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
M. Aleyn, Secretary to the King of France, formed this dialogue between a gentleman
and a gentlewoman, who finding no mercy at her hand, dyeth for forrow.
HALFE in a dreme, not fully well awaked,
The goldin Slepe me wrapped undir his wyng,
Yet not forthy I rofc, and well nigh naked,
Al fodainly my felf remembèryng
Of a mattir, levyng all othir thyng,
Which I muft doe withoutin more delaie
For them whiche I ne durft not diſobaie.
My charge was this, to tranflate by and by,
(All thyng forgive) as parte of my penaunce,
A boke callid La bel Dame fans Mercy,
Whiche Maiftir Aleine made of remembraunce,
Chief Secrctarie with the Kyng of Fraunce;
And hereupon a while I ftode mufyng,
And in my felf greatly imaginyng
What wife I ſhould perform the faid proceffe
Confidiryng by gode adviſèment
My unconnyng and my grete fimpleneffe,
And ayenward the ſtraite cominaundèment
Whiche that I had; and thus in myne entent
I was vexid and tournid up and doune,
And yet at laſt, as in conclufioun,
I caft my clothis on, and went my waie,
This forefaid charge having in remembraunce,
Till I came to a luftie grene valaie
Full of flouris, to fe a grete plefaunce,
And ſo boldly, with ther benigne fuffraunce
Which redin this boke, touching this matere
Thus I began, if it pleſe you to here.
Not long ago, ridyng an efie paas,
I fell in thought of joyful defperate,
With grete difefe and pain, fo that I was
Of all lovirs the most unfortunate,
Sith by his darte mofte cruill full of hate
The Deth hath take my ladie and maiſtreffe,
And left me fole, thus difcomfite and mate,
Sore languifhyng and in waic of diſtreſſe.
Then faid I thus, It fallith me to ceffe
Eithir to rime or ditees for to make,
And furely to makin a full promeffe
To laugh no more, but wepe in clothis blake
My joyfull tyme (alas !) now doeth it flake,
For in my felf I fele no manir eſe,
Let it be written, foche fortune (as I take)
Which neithir me nor non othir doth pleſe.
If it were fo my wyll or myne entent
Conſtrainid were a joyfull thing to write,
My penne coud nevir knowin what it ment,
To fpeke thereof my tongue hath no delite;
Tho with my mouthe I laugh mochil or lite
Mine eyin fhould make a countenance untrue,
My herte alſo would have therof deſpite,
The wepyng teris have fo large iffue.
Thefe ficke lovirs I leve that to 'hem longes,
Which lede ther life in hope of elegeaunce,
This is to faie, to make balades and fonges
Every of 'hem as thei fele ther grevaunce,
For fhe that was my joye and my plefaunce,
Whofe foule I praie God of his mercie fave!
She hath my will, myne hert'is ordinaunce,
Which lyith here within this tombe igrave.
For this tyme forthe tyme is to hold my pees;
It werieth me this mattir for to trete;
Let othir lovirs put 'hem felfe in prees,
Their fefon is, my tyme is now forgete;
Fortune by ftrength the forcir hath unfhete
Wherein was fperde all my worldly richeffe,
And all the godis which that I have gete
In my beſt tyme of youth and luftineffe.
Love hath me kept undir his govirnaunce
If I mifdid God graunt me forgiveneffe!
If I did well yet felt I no pleſaunce,
It caufid neithir joye nor hevineffe,
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
447
For when he dyid that was my maiſtres
My welfare then ymade the fame purchaſe;
The Deth hath fhette my bondis of witneſſe,
Which for nothing myne hert fhal nevir pafe.
In this grete thought fore troublid in my mind,
Alone thus rode I all the morrow tide,
Till at the laft it happid me to finde
The place wherein I caft me to abide
When that I had no furthir for to ride,
And as I went my lodgyng to purvaię
Right fone I herd a little me befide,
In a gardin, where minstrels gan to plaie :
With that anone I went me backir more,
My ſelf and I, me thought we were inow,
But twaine that wer my frendis here before
Had me efpied, and yet I wote not how
Thei came for me; awaiewarde I me drowe,
Somwhat by force, fomwhat by ther request,
That in no wife I coud my felf reſcowe,
But nedis I must come in and fe the feft.
At my commyng the ladies everichone
Bad me welcome, God wote fo gentillic,
And made me chere every one by one
A grete dele bettir than I was worthie,
And of ther grace fhewed me grete curtifie
With gode difport, bicauſe I fhould not mourne :
That daie I bode ftill in ther companie,
Whiche was to me a gracious fojourne.
A
The bordis were fpred in right lityl ſpace,
The ladies fat eche as fhe femid beſt;
There were no dedly fervauntes in the place,
But chofin men, right of the godelyeft,
And fome there wer, peraventure moſt freſheſt,
That fawin ther judgis right full demure,
Withoutin femblaunt eithir to mofte or left,
Notwithſtandyng thei had 'hem undir cure.
Emong all othir one I gan efpie
Which in grete thought ful oftin came and went,
As one that had ben raviſhed uttirly,
In his language not gretly diligent;
His countinaunce he kept with grete turment,
But his defire farre pallid his refon,
For er his eye went aftir his entent
Full many' a tyme when it was no fefon.
To makin chere forely hymfelf he pained,
And outwardly he fainid grete gladneffe;
To fing alfo by force he was conſtrained,
For no plefaunce but verie fhamefaftneſſe,
For the complainte of his mofte hevineſſe
Came to his voice alwaie without requeſt,
Like as the foune of birdis doeth expreffe
When thei fing loude in frithe or in foreſt.
Othir there were that fervid in the hall,
But none like hym, as aftir myne advife,
For he was pale, and fomwhat lene withall,
His fpeche alfo tremblid in ferfull wife,
And er alone but when he did fervife;
All blacke he were, and no devife but plain;
Me thought by him, as my witte coud fuffife,
His herte was nothyng in his owne demain.
To feft 'hem all he did his diligence,
And well he coud, right as it femid me,
But evirmore when he was in prefence
His chere was doen, it n'olde none othir be;
His fcholemaiftir had foche authorite
That all the while he bode ftill in that place
Speke cou'd he not, but upon her beaute
He lokid ftill with a right pitous face.
With that his hedde he tournid at the laſt
For to beholde the ladies everichone,
But er in one he fet his cye ſtedfaſt
On her whiche that his thought was mofte upon,
For of his eyen the fhot I knewe anone,
Which ferfull was, with right humble requefles;
Then to my felf I faied, by God alone
Soche one was I or that I fawe thefe jeftes.
Out of the prefe he went full efily
To make ftable his hevie countinaunce,
And wote ye well he fighid wondirly
For his forowes and wofull remembrance,
Then in hymfelf he made his ordinance,
And forthwithall came to bryng in the meffe,
But for to judge his mofte wofull penance
God wote it was a pitous entremeffe.
Aftir dinir anone thei 'hem avaunced
To daunce above the folk everychone,
And forthwithal this hevie man he daunced
Somtime with twaine and fomtimis with one;
Unto 'hem all his chere was aftir one,
Now here, now there, as fell by avinture,
Bur er emong he drewe to her alone
Whiche that he mofte drede of livyng creture.
To mine adviſe gode was his purveiaunce
When he her chofe to his maiftreffe alone,
If that her herte were fet to his plefaunce
As moche as was her beauteous perfone,
For who fo evir fetteth his truſt upon
The report of the eyen withoutin more
He might be dedde and gravin undir flone
Or he fhould his hert'is eſe reſtore.
In her failid nothyng that I coud geffe
One wife nor othir, privie nor aperte;
A garifon fhe was of godelineffe,
To make a frontier for a lovirs herte;
Right yong and frefhe, a woman full coverte,
Affurid wele of porte and cke of chere,
Wel at her efe, withoutin wo or fmerte,
All underneth the ftanderde of Dangere.
To fe the felt it weried me full fore,
For hevie joye doeth fore the herte travaile,
Out of the prefe I me withdrawe therfore,
And fet me doune alone behinde a traile
Full of levis, to fe a grete mervaile,
With grene wrethis iboundin wondirly,
The levis were fo thicke withoutin faile
That thoroughout no man might me eſpie.
To this ladie he came full curtifly
When he thought time to daunce with her a trace,
Set in an herbir made full plefantly,
Thei reftid 'hem fro thens but lityl fpace,
Nigh 'hem were none of a certain compace,
But onely thei, as farre as I coud fe;
Save the traile there I had ychofe my place.
Ther was no more betwene 'hem two and me.
I herd the lovir fighyng wondir fore,
For aie the more the forir it hym fought,
His inward paine he coud not kepe in ſtore,
Nor for to fpeke fo hardie was he nought;
{
448
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
His leche was nere, the gretir was his thought:
He mufid fore to conquere his defire,
For no man maie to more penaunce be brought
Then in his hete to bryng hym to the fire.
The herte began to fwell within his cheft,
So fore ftrainid for anguifhe and for pain,
That all to pecis almofte it to breſt,
When both at ones fo fore it did conſtrain.
Defire was bolde, but fhame it gan refrain,
That one was large, the othir was fall clofe;
No little charge was laied on hym certain
To kepe foche werre and have fo many fofe.
Full oftin times to fpeke himſelf he pained,
But fhamefaftneffe and drede faied evir naie,
Yet at the laft fo fore he was conftrained,
When he full long had put it in delaie,
To this ladie right thus then gan he faie,
With dredefull voice, wepyng, halfe in a rage;
For me was purveied an unhappie daie
When I first had a fight of your viſage:
I fuffre pain, God wote, full hote brenning,
To caufe my deth, all for my true fervife,
And I fe well ye recke thereof nothing,
Nor take no hede of it in no kinde wife,
But when I fpeke aftir my beſt adviſe
Ye reke it nought, but make thereof a game,
And though I fewe fo grete an entirprife
Yet peirith not your worſhip nor your fame.
Alas! what fhould it be to' you prejudice
If that a man doe love you faithfully?
To your worship efchewyng every vice,
So I am yours, and will be verily;
I chalenge nought of right, and refon why,
For I am whole fubmit to your fervice;
Right as you lift it be right fo will I,
To binde my felf where I was in fraunchiſe,
L'amant.
Though it be fo that I can not deferve
To have your grace, but alwaie live in drede,
Yet fuffre me you for to love and ferve
Without maugre of your moſte godelihede;
Both faith and tronth I give your womanhede
And my fervice without any callyng;
Love hath me bound withoutin wage or mede
To be your man and leve all othir thyng.
La Dame.
When this ladie had herd al this language
She gave anfwere full foft and demurely,
Without chaungɲng of colour or
of colour or corage,
Nothyng in haft, but full mefurably ;
Me thinkith, Sir, your thought is grete foly;
Purpoſe ye nought your labour for to cefe,
For thinkith not whilis ye live and I
In this mattir to fet your herte in peſe.
L'amant.
Ther maie none make the pece but onely ye,
Which are the ground and caufe of all this war,
For with your eyen the lettirs writtin be
By whiche I am defied and put afarre;
Your pl.faunt loke, my very lod ſtarre,
Was made heraude of thilke fame defiaunce
Whiche uttirly behight me for to barre
My faithfull truft and all myne affyaunce.
La Dame
To live in wo he hath grete fantaſic,
And of his hert alfo but flipper holde,
That onely for beholdyng of an eye
Can not abide in pece, as refon wolde ;
Other or me if
ye lift ye maie beholde;
Our eyen are made to loke, why thould we fpare?
I take no kepe neithir of yong ne olde;
Who felith ſmart I counfaile hym beware.
L'amant.
If it be fo one hurte on othir fore
In his defaute that felith the grevaunce,
Of very right a man may do no more,
Yet refon would it were in remembraunce,
And fith Fortune onily by her chaunce
Hath caufid me to fuffre all this pain
By your beautie, with all the circumftaunce,
Why lift ye have me in fo grete difdain?
La Dume.
To your perfone ne have I no diſdain,
Nor nevir had truelie, ne nought will have,
Nor right grete love nor hatred in certain,
Nor your counfaile to knowe fo God me fave;
If that foche love be in your minde igrave,
That lityl thyng maie doe you difplefaunce,
You to begile or make you for to rave,
I will not caufin no foche encombraunce.
L'amant,
What er it be that me hath thus purchaſed
Wenyng hath not decevid me certain,
But fervent love fo fore hath me ichafed
That I unware am caftin in your chaine;
And fith fo is, as Fortune lift ordaine,
All my welfare is in your handis fall,
In efchewyng of more mifchevous paine
Who fonist dieth his care is left of all.
La Dame.
This ckneffe is right efie to endure,
But fewe peple it caufith for to die,
But what thei mene I knowe it very fure,
Of more comfort to drawe the remedic;
Soche be there now plainyng full pitouflic
That fele, God wote, not althir gretift pain;
And if fo be love hurte fo grevouffie,
Leffe harme it wer one forowful then twain.
l'amant.
Alas! Madame, if that it might you plefe,
Moche bet it were by waie of gentilneffe
Of one farie to make twain well at efe
Then hym to deftroic that liveth in diftreffe,
For my defire is neithir more nor leffe
But my fervice to doc for your plefaunce,
In efchewyng all manir doubleneffe
To make two joies in ftede of one grevaunce.
La Dame.
Of love I feke neithir plefaunce nor cſe,
Nor have I therein no grete affiaunce;
Though ye be fick it doeth me nothing plefe,
Alfo I take no hede of your plefannce :
Chefe who fo will ther hertis to avaunce,
Free am I now and fre will I endure;
To be rulid by mann'is govirnaunce
For yerthly gode naie, that I you enſuççs
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
440
L'amant.
Love, which that joy and forow doth depart,
Hath fet the ladies out of all fervage,
And largily doeth graunt 'hem for ther part
Lordſhip and rule of every maner of age;
The pore fervaunt nought hath of avantage
But what he maie get onely by purcheffe,
And he that ones to Love doeth his homage
Full oftin tymes dere bought is the richeffe.
La Dame.
Ladies, be not fo fimple, thus I mene,
So dull of witte, fo fottid in folic,
That for wordis which faid be of the fplene,
In faire language paintid full pleſauntlie,
Whiche ye and mo holde fcholis of dailie,
To make 'hem all grete wondirs to fuppofe,
But fone thei can awaie their heddis wrie,
And to faire fpeche lightly ther eris cloſe.
L'amant.
There is no man that janglith bufilie,
And fetteth his herte and al his minde therfore,
That by refon maie plain ſo pitouflie
As he that bath moche hevineffe in ſtore;
Whoſe hedde is whole and faieth that it is fore
His fainid chere is harde to kepe in mewe,
But thought, whiche is unfainid evirmore,
The workis previth as the wordis ſhewe.
La Dame.
Love is fubtill, and hath a grete awaite,
Sharp in working, in gabbing grete pleſaunce,
And can hym venge of foche as by difceite.
Would fele and knowe his fecrete govirnaunce,
And makith 'hem to' obeie his ordinaunce
By cherefull waies, as in 'hem is ſuppoſed,
But when thei fallin into repentaunce
Then in a rage ther counfaile is diſcloſed.
L'amant.
Sith for as moche as God and eke Nature
Hath avauncid love to fo hie degre,
Moche fharpe is the poinct, thus am I right fure,
Yet grevith more the faute, where er it be;
Who hath no colde of hete bath no deinte ;
The' one for that othir afkid is expreffe;
And of plefaunce knowith none certainte
But it be one in thought and hevineffe.
La Dame.
As for plefaunce, it is not alwaie one,
That you think ſwețe I think it bittir pain ;
Ye maie not me conſtrain, nor yet right none,
Aftir your lufte to love; that is but vain;
To chalenge love by right was nevir ſein,
But herte affent, before bonde and promife,
For ftrength and force ne maie not er attain
A will that ſtandeth enfeffid in franchife.
L'amant.
Right faire laide! God mote I nevir pleſe
If that I feke othir right in this cafe
But for to ſhewe you plainly my difefe,
And your mercie to' abide and eke your grace;
VOL. I
If I purpoſe your honour to deface,
Or evir did, God and Fortune me fhende,
And that I ner unrightfully purchace
One onelie joye unto my liv'is ende.
La Dame
Ye and othir that fwere foche othis faſte,
And fo condempne and curlin to and fro,
Full fikirly ye wene your othis laſte
No lengir then the wordis ben ago,
And God and eke his fainctis laugh alſo;
In foche fweryng there is no ftedfaſtneffe,
And theſe wretchis that have ful truft thereto
Aftir thei wepe and wailin in diftreffe.
L'amant.
He hath no courage of a man truelie
That fechith plefaunce worſhip to difpife,
Nor to be callid, for he' is not worthie
The yerth to touch, the aire in no kind wife,
A truſtie herte, a mouthe without feintiſe,
Thus by the ſtrength of every manir name,
And who that laieth his faith for little priſe
He lefith both his worſhip and his fame.
La Dame,
A curfid herte, a mouthe that is curtciſe,
Full well ye wote thei be not accordyng,
Yet fainid chere right fone maie 'hem apeiſe,
Where of malice is fet all ther workyng,
Full falfe femblaunt thei bere and true femyng,
Ther name, ther fame, ther tonguis,ben but fained,
Worſhip in 'hem is put in forgettyng,
Nought repentid, nor in no wife complained.
L'amant.
Who thinkith ill no gode maie him befall,
God of his grace graunt eche man his deſert!
But for his love emong your thoughtis all
As thinke upon my wofull forowes fmert,
For of my paine whethir your tendir hert
Of fwete pitie be not therewith agreved,
And of your grace to me were diſcovert,
That by your mene fone ſhould I be releved.
La Dame.
A lightſome herte, a folic of plefaunce,
Are moche bettir the leffe while thei abide,
Thei make you think and bring you in a traunce
But that fikeneffe will fone be remedide;
Refpite your thought, and put all this afide;
Full gode difporte ywerieth me all daie;
To helpe nor hurte my will is not aplide;
Who troweth me not I let hym paffe awaie.
L'amant.
Who hath a birde, a faucon, or a hounde,
That foloweth hym for love in every place,
He cherisheth him and kepith him ful found,
Out of his fight he will not hym enchace,
And I, that fet my wittis in this cace
On you alone, withoutin any chaunge,
Am put undir, moche farthir out of grace,
And leffe fet by, then othir that be ſtraunge,
FE
450
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
!
La Dame
Though I make chere to every man about
For my worship and for myne own franchiſe,
To you I n'ill doe fo withoutin doubt,
I efchewyng all manir prejudiſe,
1
For wote ye well Love is fo little wife,
Į
And in bileve fo lightly will be brought,
That he takith all at his owne deviſe
Of thing God wote that fervith him of nought.
L'amant
It I by love and by my true ferviſe
Leſe the gode chere that ftraungirs have alwaie
Whereof shall ferve my trouthe in any wife
Leffe then to him that cometh and goeth al daie,
Whiche holdeth of you nothyng, that is no naie?
Alfo in you is loft, as to' my femyng,
All curtific, whiche of refon will faie
That Love for love were lawfull defiryng.
La Dimė.
Curtifie is alyid wondir nere
To worship, whiche hym lovith tendirly,
And he will not be bounde for no praiere,
Nor for no giftes, I faie you verily,
But his gode chere depart full largily
Where hym lykith, as his conceipt will fall;
Guerdon conſtrained, a gift doen thankfully,
Theſe twain can ner accord, nor nevir fhal.
L'amant.
As for guerdon, I feke none in this cace,
For that deferte to me it is to hie,
Wherfore I afke your pardon and your grace,
Sith me behovith deth or your mercie;
To give the gode where it wantith truly
That were refon and a curtife manere,
And to your own moche bettir were worthy
Then to ftraungirs to fhew 'hem lovely chere.
La Dame.
What cal ye gode? fain would I that I wift;
That plefith one an othir fmertith fore,
But of his owne to large is he that lift
Give moche and lefin his gode name therfore;
One fhould not make a graunt, little ne more,
But the requeſt were right well accordyng:
If worship be not kept and fet before
All that is lefte is but a little thyng.
L'amant.
Into this worlde was foundin nevir none,
Nor undir hevin creäture ibore,
Nor nevir fhall, fave onely your perfone,
To whom your worship touchith halfe fo fore
But me, whiche have no fefon leffe ne more
Of youth ne age but ftill in your fervice;
I have no eyen, no wit, nor mouthe, in ftore,
But all be givin to the fame office.
La Dame.
A ful grete charge hath he withoutin faile
That his worſhip kepith in fikirneffe,
But in daungir he ſettith his travail
That feffith it with othirs buſineſſe ;
To hym that longith honour and nobleffe
Upon one othir fhould not be awaite,
For of his owne fo moche hath he the leffe
That of othir moche foloweth the conceite.
L'amant.
Your eyen hath fet the print which that I fele
Within my herte, that where fo er I go
If I doe thyng that founith unto wele
Nedes muſt it cum from you and fro no mo
Fortune will this, that I for wele or wo
My life endure, your mercy abidyng,
And verie right will that I thinke alfo
Of your worship above all othir thyng.
La Dame.
To your worship fe well, for that is nede,
That ye fpende not your fefon all in vain;
As touchyng myne I rede you take no hede,
By your follie to put your felfe in pain;
To ovircome is gode and to reſtrain
An herte which is decevid follilie,
For Worſe it is to breke then bowe certain
Bettir to bowe then to fall fodainly.
L'amant.
Now, faire ladie! thinke fith it firſt began
That Love hath fet mine herte undir his cure
It nevir might, ne truelie I ne can,
None othir ferve while I fhall here endure,
In moſt fre wife thereof I make you fure,
Which maie not be withdraw, this is no naie;
I muſt abide all manir advinture,
For I ne maie put to nor take awaie,
La Dame
I holde it for no gift in fothfaftneſſe
That one offirith where it is forfake,
For foche a gifte' is abandonyng expreffe,
That with worſhip ayen maie not be take
He hath an herte full fell that lift to make
A gift lightlie that put is to refufe,
But he is wife that foche conceipt will flake,
So that hym nede neithir ftudie ne mufe.
L'amant.
He fhould not mufe that hath his fervice fpent
On her whiche is a ladie honourable,
And if I fpende my time to that entent
Yet at the left I am not reprovable
Of fainid harte, to thinke I am unable,
Or I miſtoke when I made this requeſt,
By whiche Love hath of enterpriſe notable
So many hertis gottin by conqueft.
La Dame.
If that ye lifte doe aftir my counfaile
Seche a fairir and of more highir fame,
Whiche in fervice of love will you prevaile,
Aftir your thought, accordyng to the fame ;
He hurtith bothe his worship and his name
That follily for twain himfelf will trouble,
And he alfo lefith his aftir game
That furely can not fet his poinctis double,
•
3
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
451
L'amant.
This your counfaile, by ought that I can ſe,
Is bettir faid than doen, to myne adviſe,
Though I beleve it not forgive it me:
Mine herte is foche, fo whole without feintife,
That I ne maie give credence in no wiſe
To thyng whiche is not founyng unto truth :
Othir counfaile I fe' is but fantafife
Save of your grace to fhewe pitie and ruth.
La Dame.
I holde hym wife that workith no folie,
And when hym lift can leve and part therfro,
But in connyng he is to lerne truelie
That would himſelf conduite and can not fo;
And he that will not aftir counfaile doc
His fute he puttith into difperaunce,
And all the gode that ſhould yfall hym to
Is loft and dedde člene out of remembraunce.
L'amant.
Yet woll I fhewe this mattir faithfullie
Whillis I live, what evir be my chaunce,
And if it hap that in my truthe I die
•
Then deth fhall doe to me no difplefaunce,
But when that I by your hard fufferaunce
Shall die fo true, and with fo grete a pain,
Yet fhall it doe me moche the leffe grevaunce
Then for to live a falfe lovir certain.
}
La Dame.
Of me get ye right noght, this is no fable,
I will to you be neithir hard nor ſtraite,
And right will not no man cuftomable
To thinke ye fhould be fure of my conceite;
Who fechith foroze his be the receite ;
Othir counfaile can I not fele nor ſe,
Nor for to lerne I caft me not to' awaite,
Who will thereof let him affaie for me.
L'amant.
Oncs muſt it be affaied, that is no naie,
With foche as be of reputacion,
And of true love the right honour to paie
Of fre hartis gottin by due raunfome,
For frewil holdith this opinion,
That it is grete dureffe ond diſcomforte
To kepe a herte in fo ftraite a prifon
That hath but one bodie for his difporte.
La Dame.
I knowe fo many caufis marvelous
'That I muſt nede of refon thinke certain
Sochic avinture is wondir perilous,
And yet well more the coming backe again,
Gode or worship thereof is feldome fene,
Where I ne will make any foche araie,
As for to finde a plefaunce but baraine
When it fhall coft fo dere the firſt affaie.
L'amant:
Ye have no caufe to doubt of this matter,
Nor you to meve with no foche fantalife,
To put me farre all out as a ftraunger,
For your godeneffe can thinke and well adviſe
That I have made aprife in every wife,
By whiche my truthe fheweth opin evidence ;
My long abidyng and my true fervice
Maie well be knowen by plain experience.
La Dame!
Of verie right he maie be callid true,
And ſo muſt he be take in every place,
That can difcerne and let as he ne knewe,
And kepe the gode if he it maie purchaſe
For who that praieth or fwereth in any cafe
Right well ye wote in that no trouth is preved;
Soch hath there ben and are that gettin grace,.
And lefe it fone when thei have it acheved.
L'amant.
If truthe me caufe, by vertue fov`rain,
To fhewe gode love and alwaie find contrarie,
And cherishe the whiche fleeth me with the pain,
This is to me a lovely adverfarie,
When that Pitie, whiche long on flepe doth tarie,
Hath fet the fine of all my hevineffe,
Yet her comfort, to me mofte neceffarie,
Shall fet my will more fure in ftableneffe.
La Dame.
The woful wight what maie he think or fay,
The contrarie of all joye and gladneffe,
A ficke bodie, his thought is ferre alwaie
From 'hem that felin no fore nor fickeneffe;
Thus hurtis ben of divers bafineffe,
Whiche love hath putt unto grete hindèraunce,
And truthe alfo put in forgetfulneſe,
When thei full fore begin to figh afkaunce.
L'amant.
Now God defende but he be harmèleffe
Of all worship or gode that maie befall
That to werft tournith by his leudèneffe
A gift of grace or any thyng at all
That his ladie vouchfafe upon hym call,
Or cherish hyn in honourable wife;
In that defaute what er he be that fall
Defervith more than deth to fuffre twife.
La Dame
There is no judge ifet on foche trefpace,
By whiche of right love maie recovered be,
One curfith faft, an othir doth manace,
Yet dyith none, as farre as I can fe,
But kepe ther courfe alwaie in one degre,
And evirmore ther labour doeth encrefe
To bryng ladies, by ther grete fubtilte,
For othirs gilte, in forowe and difefe.
L'amant.
All be it fo one doeth fo grete offence
And is not dedde nor put to no juftice,
Right well I wote hym gainith no defence,
But he muft ende in full mifchevous wife,
And all ever faied God will hym difpife,
For falfhed is all full of curfidneffe,
That his worſhip may ner have entirprife
Where it reignith and hath the wilfulneſſe,
}
J
Ffij
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LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
1
La Dame.
Of that have thei no grete fere now a daiſe,
Soche as will faie and maintain it thereto,
That ſtedfaſt truthe nothyng for to praife
In 'hem that kepe it long in wele or wo,
Their bufie hertis paffin to and fro,
Thei be fo well reclaimid to the lure,
So well lernid 'hem to withholde alfo,
And alto chaunge when love ſhould beſt endure.
L'amant.
When one hath fet his herte in ftable wife
In foche a place as is bothe gode and true
He ſhould not flit, but doe for the his fervice
Alwaie withoutin chaunge of any newe:
As fone as love beginnith to remewe
All plefaunee goeth anone in lityl ſpace;
As for my partie that fhall I efchue
While that the foule abidith in his place.
La Dame.
To love truely there as it ought of right
Ye maie not be miſtakin doubtileffe,
But be foule difcevid in your fight
ye
By your light underftandyng as I geffe,
Yet maie we well repele your buſineffe,
And unto refon have fome attendaunce,
Moche bettir than to' abide by fimplenes
The feble foccouris of difperaunce.
L'amant.
Refon, counfaile, wifedome, and gode adviſe,
Ben undir love arreftid everichone,
To whiche I can accorde in every wife,
For thei ben not rebell but ftill as ftone;
Ther will and myne be medlid all in one,
And therwith boundin with fo ftrong a chain,
That as in 'hem departyng fhall be none,
But pitie breke the mightie bonde atwain.
I a l'ame.
Ye love not your felf, what evir ye be,
That in love ftande fubject in every place,
And of your wo if ye have no pite
Othirs pite bileve not to purchace,
But be fullie affured, as in this cace,
I am alwaie undir one ordinaunce ;
To havin bettir truft not aftir grace,
And all that levith take to your plefaunce.
L'amant.
I have my hope ſo ſure and ſo ſtedfaft
That foche a ladie fhould not lacke pitie,
But now, alas! it is fhit
alas! it is fhit up fo faft
That Daungir fheweth on me his crueltie,
And if the fe the virtue faile in me
Of true fervice, though fhe doe faile alfo
No wonder were; but this is my fureté,
I muft fuffre whiche waie that er it go.
La Dame.
Leve this purpofe, I rede you for the beſt,
For the lengir ye kepe it is in vain,
The leffe ye get as of your hert'is reft,
And to rejoyce it fhall you ner attain 3
When ye abide gode hope to make you fain
Ye shall be founde afottid in dotage,
And in the ende ye shall knowe for certain
That hope fhall paie the wretchis for ther wage.
L'amant.
Ye faie as fallith mofte for your plefaunce,
And your powir is grete, all this I fe,
But hope fhall ner out of my remembraunce,
By whiche I fele ſo grete adverſite,
For when Nature hath fet in you plente
Of all godeneffe, by vertue and by grace,
He ner affemblid 'hem, as femid me,
To put Pitie out of his dwellyng place.
I a Dame.
Pitie of right ought to be refonable,
And to no wight do grete difavauntage,
There as is nede it ſhould be profitable,
And to the pitous fhewyng no domage:
If a ladie will doe fo grete outrage
To fhewe pitie and cauſe her owne debate,
Of foche pitie comith difpitous rage,
And of foche love alfo right dedly hate.
L'amant.
To comfort 'hem that live all comfortleſſe
That is no harme, but comfort to your name,
But
ye that have a herte of foche dureffe,
And a faire ladie', I muſt affirme the fame,
If I durft faie, ye winne all this defame
By cruiltie, whiche fittith you full ill,
But if pitie, whiche maie all this attain,
In your high herte maie reft and tary ſtill
La Dame.
What er he be that faieth he lovith me,
And paraventure I leve well it be ſo,
Ought he be wrothe, or ſhould I blamid be,
Though I did not as he would have me doc?
If I medlid with foche or othir moe
It might be callid pitie mercileffe,
And aftirward if I fhould live in wo
Then to repent it were to iate I geffe.
L'amant.
O marble herte! and yet more harde parde,
Whiche mercie maie not perce for no labour,
More ſtrong to bowe then is a mighty tre,
What availeth you to fhewe fo grete rigour !
Plefeth it you more to fe me die this hour
Before your eyen, for your difport and plaie,
Then for to fhewe fome comfort and foccour
To refpite deth, whiche chalith me alwaie?
La Dame.
Of your difeafe ye may have allegeaunce,
And as for myne I let it ovir flake,
Alfo ye fhall not die for my plefaunce,
Nor for your hele 1 can no furetie make;
I will not hurte my ſelf for othirs fake;
Wepe thei, laugh thei, or fing thei, I waraunt
For this mattir fo will I undirtake
That none of 'hem ſhall make therof avaunt.
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.
453
L'amant,
I can not ſkill of love by God alone,
I have more caufe to wepe in your prefence,
And well ye wote avauntour am I none,
For certainly I love bettir filence:
One ſhould not love by his hert'is credence,
But he were ſure to kepe it fecretlie,
For a vauntour is of no revèrence
When that his tongue is his mofte enemie.
La Dame
Male bouch in court hath grete commaundèment,
Eche man ſtudieth to faie the worft he maie,
Theſe falfe lovirs in this tyme now prefent
Thei fervin beſt to jangle as a jaie;
The mofte fecrete iwis yet fome men faie
How he miſtruſtid is in ſome partiſe,
Wherfore to ladies when men fpeke or faie
It ſhould not be bilevid in no wife.
l'amant.
Of gode and ill fhall be and is alwaie,
The world is foche; The yerth is not al plain ;
Thei that be gode the profe fheweth every daie,
And othir wife grete villonie certain;
It' is not refon though one his tongue diftain
With curfid fpeche to doe hymfelf a fhame
That foche refuce fhould wrongfully remain
Upon the gode renomid in ther fame.
La Dame.
Soch as be nought, when thei here tidinges new
That eche trefpas fhall lightly have pardon,
Thei that purſuin to be gode and true
Will not fet by none ill difpoficion,
To continue' in every gode condicion
Thei are the first that fallin in domage,
And full frely the hertis habandon
To lityl faithe with ſoft and faire language,
L'amant.
Now knowe I well of verie certainte
If one doe truelie yet fhall he be fhente,
Sith all manir of justice and pite
Is baniſhed out of a ladies entente;
I can not fe but all is at one ftente,
The gode, the ill, the vice, and eke the virtue ;
Soche as be gode foche have the puniſhmente
For the trefpace of 'hem that live untrue.
La Dame.
I have no powir you to do grevaunce,
Nor to puniſhe none othir creature,
But to efchewin the more encombraunce,
To kepe us from you all I hold it fure,
For Falfe Semblaunce hath a face full demure,
Lightlie to catche thefe ladies in a waite,
Wherefore we muft, if we will here endure,
Make right gode watch: lo! this is my conceite.
L'amant.
Sith that of grace a godely worde not one
Maie now be had, but alwaie kept in ſtore,
I' appele to God, for he maic here my mone,
Of the dureſſe which grevith me ſo fore,
And of pite I complaine furthirmore,
Whiche he forgate in all his ordinaunce,
Or els my life to have endid before,
Whiche ſo fone am put out of remembraunce,
La Dame.
My herte nor I have doen you no forfeite
By whiche ye fhould complaine in any kinde;
Nothyng hurtith you but your own conceite;
Be judge your ſelf, for ſo ye ſhall it finde :
minde
Thus alwaie let this finke into your
That your defire fhall ner recovered be;
Ye noye me fore in waftyng all this winde,
For I have faied inough, as femith me.
This wofull man rofe up in all his paine,
And departid with wepyng countinaunce,
His wofull herte almofte to brafte in twaine,
Full like to die, walkyng forthe in a traunce,
And fayid, Deth, come forthe, thy felf avaunce,
Or that myne herte forget his propertie,
And make ſhortir all this wofuil penaunce
Of my pore life, full of adverfitie
Fro thens he went, but whithir wift I nought,
Nor to what part he drewe in fothfaftneffe,
But he no more was in his ladie's thought,
For to the daunce anone fhe gan her dreffe;
And aftirward one tolde me thus expreffe,
He rent his heer for anguifhe and for pain,
And in hymſelf toke fo grete hevineſſe
That he was dedde within a daie or twain.
L'ENVOY.
The true lovirs thus I befeche you all
Soche advintures flie 'hem in every wife,
And as peple defamid ye 'hem call,
For thei truelie do you grete prejudice
His caftelles ftrong ftuffid with ordinaunce,
For thei have had long tyme by their office
The whole countrey of Love in obeifaunce.
And ye ladies, or what eftate ye be,
Of whom Worſhip hath choiſe his dwellyng place,
For Godd'is love doe no foche cruilsie,
Nor in no wife ne folowe not the trace
Of her that here is namid right wifely,
Whiche by refon me femith in this cace
Maie be callid La belle Dame fans Mercy.
Go, lityl Boke, God fende the gode paffage!
Chefe well thy waie, be fimple of manere,
Loke thy clothyng be like thy pilgrimage,
And ſpecially let this be thy praiere
Unto 'hem all that the will rede or here,
Where thou art wrong after ther helpe to call
The to correcte in any parte or all.
Praie 'hem alfo with thine humble fervife
Thy boldenedle to pardon in this cace,
Fer els thou art not able in no wife
To make thy felf appere in any place;
And furthirmore befeche 'hem of ther grace
By ther favour and ſupportacion,
To take in gre this rude Tranflacion,
The which God wote ſtandith full deftitute
Of eloquence, of metre, and colours,
Like as a beft nakid without refute
F fiij
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LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY,
Upon a plain to abide all manir fhowers:
I can no more but afke of 'hem focours
At whofe requeſt thou wer made in this wife,
Commaundyng me with body and ferviſe.
Right thus I make an ende of this proffes,
Bcfechyng hym that all hath in balaunce
That no true man be vexid caufèleffe
As this man was, whiche is of remembraunce;.
And all that doen ther faithfull obfervaunce,
And in ther trouth purpoſe 'hem to endure
I praie God fende 'hem bettir avinture.
1
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L
THE ASSEMBLE OF LADIE S.
455
THE ASSEMBLE OF LADIES.
Agentlewoman dreameth that she feeth a greate number of Lidies put up their billes of
complaint before a judge, who promifeth to relieve their grievances.
In September', at the fallinge of the lefe,
The freſhe fefon was altogidir done,
And of the corne was gathirid the ſhefe,
In a gardine, aboute twayne aftir none,
Ther were Ladies walking, as was ther wone,
Foure in nombre, as to my minde doth fall,
And I the fifthe, the fimpliſt of 'hem al.
Of gentilwomen faire there were alſo
Difporting 'hem everiche aftir her gife,
In croffe aleis walking by two and two,
And fome alone, aftir ther fantaſies;
Thus occupied we were in diverſe wiſe,
And yet in trouthe we were nat al alone,
There werin knightes and fquiris many one.
Whereof I ferved? one of 'hem aſkid me ;
I faid ayen, as it fel in my thought,
To walke aboute the mafe in certainte,
As a hedelefs woman that nothing rought.
He afkid me ayen whom that I fought,
And of my colour why I was fo pale?
Forfothe (quod I) and therby lithe a tale.
That muſt me wete, (quod he) and that anone;
Tel on, let fe, and make no tarying,
Abide, (quod I) ye ben a haftie one;
I let you were it is no lityl thing,
But for bicauſe ye have a grete longing
In your defire this proceffe for to here
I fhal you tel the plaine of this matere.
It happid thus' that in an aftirnone
My felauſhip and I by one affent,
Whan al othir befineflis were done,
To paffe our time into this maſe we went,
And toke our waies eche aftir our entent,
Some went inward and went they had gon out,
Some fonde in the mid and loked all about.
And, foth to ſay, fome were ful ferre behinde,
And right anon as ferforthe as the beſt,
Othir ther were fo mafid in ther minde
Al waies were gode for 'hem both eft and weft;
Thus went they forth and had but lityl reſt,
And fome ther courage dyd 'hem fore afſaile,
For very wrathe they dyd ftep o'er the raile;
And as they fought 'hem felvin to and fro,
I gate my felf a lityl avauntage,
Al forweried I might no furthir go,
Though I had won right grete for my viage,
So came I forthe into a ftraite paffage,
Which brought me to an herbir faire and grene,
Ymade with benchis ful crafty and clene;
That as me thoughtin there might no creture
Deviſe a bette by dewe proporcioun,
Safe it was clofid wel I you enfure,
With maſonrye of compace enviroun,
Ful fecretly with ftairis goyng
goyng down
In myddes the place with turning whele certain,
And upon that a potte of margelaine,
With margerettes growinge in ordinaunce
To fhewe 'hem felfe as folke went to and fro,
That to beholde it was a grete pleſaunce,
And how they were accompainid with mo,
Ne momblifneffe and fonèneffe alſo,
The poure penfis were not diflogid there,
Ne, God wote ther place was evèry where,
The flore and bench was pavid faire and fmothe
With ftonis fquare of many divers hewe,
So wel joynid that for to fay the foth
Al femid one, that no one othir knewe,
And undirnith the ftremis newe and newe,
As filvir bright, fpringing in foche a wife,
That whence it came ye coude it not devife.
Ffij
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456
THE ASSEMBLE OF LADIES.
A lityl while ywas I al alone
Bcholding wel this delectable place,
My felawfhip were coming everichone,
So mufte we nedis abyde for a ſpace,
Remembiring of many divers cace
Of tyme ypallid yore with fighis depe,
I fet me downe, and there I fel aflepe!
And as I flept me thought there came to me
A gentylwoman metely of ftature,
Of grete worship fhe femid for to be,
Atyrid wel. not high, but by mefure,
Her countinaunce full fad was and demure,
Her colours blewe al that he had upon;
Ther ne came no mo but her felfe alone.
Her gowne wel was embraudrid certainly
With fonis fette aftir her owne deviſe
In her purfillis, her worde by and by
Bien & Loyalement, as I coude devife;
Than praide I her in any manir wife
That of her name I might have remembraunce;
She faid fhe was callid Perfeveraunce.
So furthirmore to fpekin was I bolde,
Where the dwellid I prayed her for to ſay?
And the againe ful curtifly me tolde,
My dwelling is and hath be many' a day
With a lady. What lady? I you pray.
Of gret eltate, thus warne I you (quod fhe,)
What cal ye her? Her name is Loyalte.
In what office ftonde ye or what degre?
(Quod I to her) that would I wete right faine.
I am, quod fhe) unworthy though I be,
Of her chambre her ufhir in certaine,
This rodde I berc as for a tokin plaine,
Lyke as ye knowe the rule in foche fervice
Apertaining is to the fame office.
She chargid me by her commaundèment
To warne you and your felawes ever.chone
That ye fhulde come there as fhe is prefent
For a counfaile whiche fhall be nowe anone,
Or fevin dayis be comin and gone;
And furthirmore, fhe bad that I fhulde fay
Excufis there might be none nor delay.
Anothir thing was not forget behinde,
Whiche in no wife I wolde but that ye knewe;
Remembre wel and bere it in your minde
Al your felawcs and ye muſt come in blewe
Everlyche, your matirs for to fewe,
With more, whiche I pray you to thinke upon,
Your wordis on your felvis everychon.
And be not abafhed in no manir wife,
As many ben, in foche an high prefence;
Make your requeft as ye can beft devife,
And the gladly wol yeve you audience:
Ther is no grefe nor no manir offence
Wherin ye fele that your herte is difpifed
But with her help right fone ye flal be cfed.
I am right glad (quod I) yc tel me this,
But ther is non of us that knoweth the waie.
As of your way (quod fhe) yc fhal not mis,
Ye fal have one to gyde you day by day
Of my felawes, I can not bettir fay,
Soche one as fhal tel you the way ful right,
And Diligence this gentilwoman hight,
A woman of right famous govirnaunce,
And wel cherifhed, I tel you in certaine,
Her felaufhip fhal do you grete plefaunce;
Her porte is foch, her manirs trewe and plaine,
She with glad chere wold do her befy paine
To bring you there. Now farewel; I have done,
Abyde, faid 1, ye may not go fo fone.
Why fo? (quod fhe) and I have ferrc to go,
To yeve warning in many divers place
To your felawes and fo to othir mo,
An i well ye wote I have but lytil pace,
Now yet, (quod I) ye muft tel me this cace,
If ye fhal any men unto us cal.
Not one (quod fhe) may come amonges you all.
Not one, than? faid I eigh, Benedicite !
What have I done? I pray you tel me that.
Nowe by my lyfe I trowe but wel, (quod fhe)
But er I can byleve there is fomwhat,
And for to faye you trouthe more can I nat;
In questions I may nothing be to large;
I meddle muſt no furthir then my charge.
Than thus, (quod I) do me to undirſtande
What place is there this lady is dwelling?
Forfothe (quod fhe) and one fought al this lande
Fairir is none, though it were for a king,
Devifid wel, and that in every thing,
The touris hie ful plefaunt fhal ye finde,
With phanis freſh turning with every wynde;
The chambris and the parlirs of a forte,
With bay windowes godely as may be thought,
As for daunfing and othir wife diſporte
The galèries be all right well ywrought,
That wel I wote if ye were thydir brought,
And take gode hede therof in every wife,
Ye wol it thinke a very paradifc.
What hight the place? (quod I) now fay me that
Plefaunt Regarde, (quod fhe) to tell you plaine.
Of very trouth, (quod I) and wote ye what?
It may right wel be callid fo certaine :
But furthirmore this wold I wit right fain,
What I fhulde do as fone as I come there,
And aftir whom that I may beſt enquere?
A gentilwoman portir of the yate
There fhal ye finde, her name is Countinaunce,
If ye fo hap ye come erly or late
Of her wer gode to have fome acquaintaunce,
She can you tel howe ye fhal you avaunce,
And howe to come to her ladye's prefence ;
To her wordis I rede ye geve credence.
Now it is time that 1 fhulde partc you fro,
For in gode faithe I have grete bufineffe.
I wote right wel (quod I) that it is ſo,
And I thanke you of your grete gentilneffe,
Your comforte hath yevin me hardineffe,
That nowe I fhal be bolde withoutin faile
To do' aftir your advice and gode counfaile.
Thus partid fhe, and I lefte all alone;
With that I fawe (as I behelde afide)
A woman come, a verie godely one,
And forth withal as I had her afpide
Me thought anone it fhouldè be the gide,
And of her name anone I did enquere ;
Iul womanly fhe yave me this anfwere :
2
THE ASSEMBLE OF LADIES.
AST
I am (quod fhe) but a fimple creture,
Sent from the courte, my name is Diligence;
As fone as I myght come, I you enſure,
I taried not aftir I had licence:
And nowe that I am come to your prefence,
Loke, what fervice I can you do or may
Commaundith me; I can no furthir fay.
I thankid her, and prayed her to come nere,
Bycauſe I woulde fe how ſhe was araide;
Her gown was blew, dreffid in gode manere,
With her devife, her worde alfo, that faide
Tant
que je puis, and I was wel apaide;
And then wift I, withoutin any more,
It was ful trewe that I had herde before.
Though we toke nowe before a litil ſpace
It were ful gode (quod fhe) as I coude geffe.
Howe farre (quod I) have we unto the place?
A daye's journey (quod fhe) but litil leffe;
Wherfore I rede that now we outwarde dreffe
For I fuppofe our felawfhip is paſt,
And for nothinge I wolde not we were the' laſt.
Then departid we' at ſpringing of the daye,
And forthe we wente a fofte and efy pace,
Til at the laſt we were on our journey
So far outwarde that we might ſe the place;
Nowe let us reft (quod 1) a litil ſpace,
And fay we as devoutly as we can
A Pater nofter for Saint Julian.
With all my herte; I affent with gode wil;
Much bettir fhal we fpede whan we have done.
Than taried we and faid it every dyl;
And whan the day was paft farre aftir none
We fawe a place, and thidir came we ſone,
Whiche rounde aboute was clofid with a wal,
Seminge to me full like an hofpitall.
There found I one had brought all min aray,
(A gentil woman of mine acquaintaunce)
I have mervaile (quod I) what manir way
Ye had knowlege of al this ordinaunce.
Yes, yes, (quod fhe) I herde Perfeveraunce
Howe the warnid her felawes everichone,
And what aray ye fhouldin have upon.
Nowe for my love (quod I) this I you praye,
Sith ye have take upon you all the paine,
That ye wolde helpe me on with mine araye,
For wit ye wel I wolde be gone right faine.
Al this prayir us nedith not certaine,
(Quod fhe againe ;) come of, and hye you fone,
And ye fhal fe anone it fhall be done.
But this I doute me gretly, wote ye what?
That my felawes be paffid by and gone.
I warne you (quod fhe) that are they nat,
For here they fhall affemble everichone,
Notwithſtandinge I counfaile you anone
Make you redy, and tary you no more,
It is no harme though ye be there before.
So than I dreffid me in mine araye,
And aſked her whethir it were wel or no?
It is right well (quod ſhe) unto my pay,
Ye nede not care to what place er ye go:
And whilies that she and I debatid fo
Came Diligence and fawe me al in blewe;
Siftir, (quod fhe) right wel broke ye your nowe!
Difcrecion Purveiour.
Than wente we forth and met an avinture
A yonge woman, an officir feminge;
What is your name? (quod I) tell, gode creture,
Difcrecion, (quod fhe) without lefinge.
And where (quod 1) is your moft abidinge?
I have (quod fhe) this office of purchace,
Chefe Purveyour that longith to this place.
Acquayntaunce Herbyger.
Fair love! (quod I) in all your ordinaunce
What is her name that is the herbigere?
For fothe (quod fhe) her name is Acquaintance,
A woman of right gracious manere.
Then thus, (quod I) what ftraungirs have ye here?
But fewe (quod fhe) of high degre ne lowe,
Ye be the firſt, as ferforth as I knowe.
Countinaunce Porter.
Thus with talis we came ftreight to the yate,
This yonge woman departid was and gone,
Came Diligence, and knockid faſt thereat,
Who is without? (quod Countinaunce anone.)
Truly, (quod f) fayre fiftir, here is one.
Which one? (quod fhe) and therewithal fhe lough.
I Diligence; ye knowe me wel ynoughe.
Than opened the the gate, and in we go;
With wordis faire fhe faide full gentilly,
Ye are welcome ywis; are ye no mo?
Nat one (quod fhe) ſave this woman and I,
Now than (quod fhe, I pray you hertily
Takith my chaumbre for a while to reſt
Til
your felawis come; I holde it beft.
I thanked her, and forth we go everichone
Til her chambre withoutin wordis mo,
Came Diligence and toke her leve anone.
Where er ye lyft (quod I) nowe may ye go,
And I thanke you right hertily alſo
Of your labour, for whiche God do you mede;
I can no more, but Jefu be your ſpede!
Than Countinaunce thus afkid me anone,
Your felaufhip where be they all? (quod fhe.)
For fothe (quod I) they' are cominge everichone,
But where they are I knowe no certainte,
Without I may 'hem at his windowe fe;
Here will flande a waitinge here amonge,
For wel I wote they wil not bence be longe.
Thus as I ftode mufing ful bufily,
I thought to take gode hede of her aray;
Her gowne was blewe, this wote I verily,
Of gode facyon, and furrid wel with gray,
Upon her fleve her worde, this is no nay,
Whiche ſaid thus, as my penn can epdite,
A moy, qui voy, writin with lettirs white.
Then forth withal fhe came ftreight unto me,
Your wordes (quod fhe) fain wold I that I knewe.
Forfothe (quod I) ye ſhal wel knowe and fe,
And for my worde I have none, this is trew;
It is ynough that my clothing be blewe,
As here before I had commaundèment,
And fo to do I am right well content.
Largeffe Stewarde.
But tell me this I pray you hertilye,
The ſteward here, fay me what is her name?
She hight Largeffe, I fay you furily,
A faire lady, and of right noble fameș
458
THE ASSEMBLE OF LADIES.
Whan
ye her fe
ye wil reporte the ſame,
And undir her to byd you welcome al
There is Belchier, marfhal of the hal.
Now al this while that ye here tary ftill
Your own matirs ye may wel have in mind;
But tel me this, have ye brought any bill?
Ye, ye, (quod I) and els I were behinde;
Where is there one, tel me, that I may finde
To whom that I may fhewe my matirs plaine?
Surely (quod fhe) unto the chambirlaine.
Remembraunce Chambirlaine.
The chambirlaine, (quod I) and ſay ye trewe?
Ye, verily, (faid fhe ;) by myne adviſe
Ben nat aferde; unto her lowlye fewe.
It fhal be done (quod I) as ye devyſe,
But I must knowe her name in any wife.
Trewly (quod fhe) to fhewe you in fubftaunce,
Withouten fainyng, her name is Remembraunce.
The ſecretarye may not be forget,
For the dothe right moche in every thinge,
Wherfore I rede when ye have with her mete
Your matere whole tel her without faininge;
Ye fhal her fynde ful gode and ful lovinge.
Tel me her name (quod I), of gentilneffe.
By my gode fothe (quod fhe) Aviſèneſſe.
That name (quod 1) for her is paffing gode,
For every byl and ſchedule ſhe muſt fe.
Nowe gode, (quod I) come ftande there as I ftode,
My felawes be cominge; yondir they be.
Is it in jape, or fay ye fothe? (quod fhe)
In jape! nay, nay, I fay you for certayne;
Se how thei come togithir twain and twaine.
Ye fay ful fothe, (quod fhe) that is no nay,
I fe coming a godely company.
They ben foch folke, (quod I) dare I to fay,
That lyft to love, thinkith it verily,
And for my love I pray you faythfully
At any tyme whan they upon you call
'That ye woll be gode frende unto 'hem all.
Of my frendſhip (quod ſhe) they ſhal not miſſe,
And for their efe to put therto my paine.
God yelde it you! (quod I) but take you this,
Howe ſhal we know who is the chambirlayne?
That fhal ye wel know by her word certaine.
What is her worde, fyftir? I pray you fay.
Plus ne purroye, thus writith ſhe alwaye.
Thus as we ſtole togydir fhe and I,
Even at the yate my felawes were echone,
So met I 'hem (as me thought was godely)
And bade 'hem welcome al by one and one:
Then came forth Countinaunce to us anone,
Ful hertily, Fair fiflirs al, (quod fhe)
Ye be right welcome into this countre.
I counfayle you to take a litil reſt
In my chambre, if it be your plefaunce;
Whan ye be there me thinke it for the beſt
That I go in and cal Perfeveraunce,
Bycauſe ſhe is one of your acquaintaunce,
And fhe alfo wil tel you every thinge
Howe ye fhal be rulir of your cominge.
My felawes al and I, by one adviſe,
Were wel agreed to do lyke as ſhe fayde;
Than we began to dreffe us in our giſe,
That folke fhoulde fay we were not unpurveide,
And gode wagirs among us there we laide
Which of us was atirid mofte godeleft,
And of us al whiche fhulde be praifid beft.
The portir came and brought Perfeveraunce,
She welcomid us in curteis manere;
Thinke not long (quod fhe) of your attendance,
I wil go fpeke unto the herbigere,
That the may purvey for your lodging here,
Than wil I go unto the chambirlaine
To fpeke for you, and come anone againe.
And whan that the departid was and gone,
We fawe folkis coming without the wal,
So gret peple, that nombre coude we none,
Ladies they were, and gentil women al,
Clothid in blewe, echone her worde withal,
But for to knowe her worde or her devife
They came fo thicke I ne might in no wiſe.
With that anone came in Perfeveraunce,
And where I ftode fhe came ftreight unto me;
Ye ben (quod fhe) of min olde acquaintaunce,
You to enquere the boldir wolde I be
What worde they bere eche aftir her degre;
I you pray tel it me in fecret wife,
And I shall kepe it clofe on warrantife.
We ben five ladies (quod I) al in fere,
And gentil women four in company,
When they begin to opin ther matere
Than fhal ye knowe ther wordis by and by;
But as for me I have none verily,
And fo I tolde Countinaunce here before;
Al min aray is blewe, what nedith more?
Nowe then (quod fhe) I wol go backe againe
That ye may have knowlege what ye fhuld do.
In foth (quod I) if ye wolde take the paine,
Ye dyd right moche for us if ye dyd fo,
The rathir fpede the fonir may we go;
Grete cofte alway there is in taryinge,
And longe to fewe it is a wery thinge.
Then partid ſhe and came againe anone;
Ye muft (quod fhe) come to the chambirlaine,
We be nowe redy (quod I) everychone
To folowe you whan er ye lift certaine;
We have none eloquence, to tel you plaine,
Befeching you we may be fo excuſed
Our trewe meaning that it be not refuſed.
Then went we forth aftir Perfeveraunce;
To fe the prees it was a wondir cace,
There for to paffe it was a grete combraunce,
The peple ftode fo thicke in every place:
Nowe ftande ye ftil (quod fhe) a litil ſpace,
And for your eſe fomwhat I fhal aſſay
Yf I can make you any bettir way.
And forth fhe gothe among 'hem everychon,
Making a way that we might thorough paffe
More at our eſe, and whan fhe had fo done
She beckende us to come where as fhe was,
So aftir her we folowed more and las;
She brought us ftreight unto the chambirlayne,
There lefte fhe us, and than fhe went againe.
We falued her, as refon woulde it ſo,
Ful humble befeching her gret godeneffe
In our mattirs that we had for to do
That ſhe wolde be gode lady and maiftreffe.
Ye be welcome, (quod fhe) in fothfaſteneffe,
And fe, what I can do you for to pleſe
I am redy, that may be to your efe.
THE ASSEMBLE OF LADIES.
459
We folowed her unto the chambir dore;
Siftirs, (quod fhe) come ye in aftir me :
But wete ye wel there was a pavid flore
The godlyit that any wight might ſe;
And furthirmore about than lokid we
On eche cornir and upon every wal,
Whiche was ymade of burel and cryſtal.
Wherein was graven of ſtories many one
Firfte how Phyllis, of womanly pite,
Dyed piteouſly for love of Demophone,
Next aftir was the ſtory of Thiſbe,
Howe that he flewe her felfe undir a tre;
Yet fawe I more, howe in right pitous caas
lor Antony was flaine Cleopatras;
Jpon the othir fide was Hawes the fhene,
Ful untrewly dif:evid in her baine;
There was alfo Annelida the Quene,
Upon Arcite howe fore fhe did complaine!
Al thofe ftories were gravid there certaine,
And many mo than I reherfe you here;
It were to longe to tel you al in fere.
And bicauſe that the wallis fhone fo bright
With fine umple they were al ovir ſprad,
To the entent folke fhulde not hurte ther fight,
And thorough it the ftories might be radde;
Taan fur thirmore I went as I was lad,
And there I fawe withoutin any faile
A chaire yfet with ful riche aparaile ;
And five ftagis it was fet fro the grounde,
Of caffidony ful curiouſly wrought,
With foure pomelles of golde, and very rounde,
Set with faphirs as gode as coude be thought,
That wot ye what? if it wer thorough fought
As I fuppofe fro this countre to Inde
Anothir foche it were right harde to finde :
For wete ye wèl I was right nere to that,
So as I durft, beholding by and by,
Above there was a riche clothe of eſtate
Ywrought with the nedle ful ftraungely,
Her worde thereon, and thus it faid truely,
En Dieu eft, to tel you in wordis fewe,
With grete lettirs, the bettir I 'hem knewe.
Thus as we ftode a dore opened anone,
A gentilwoman femely of ftature,
Bering a mace, came out her felfe alone,
Sothely me thought her a godely creture;
She fpake nothinge to lowde, I you enfure,
Nor haftily, but with godely warninge
Make rome, (quod fhe) my lady is cominge.
With that anone I fawe Perfeveraunce
Howe fhe helde up the tapet in her hande,
I fawe alfo in godely ordinaunce
This gret lady within the tapet ftande,
Comyng outwarde I wol ye undirſtande,
And aftir her a noble company,
I coude not tel the nombre fikirly.
Of ther namis I wolde nothing enquere,
Furthir than foche as we wolde fewe unto,
Save a lady whiche was the chauncellere,
Attemperaunce, fothely her name was ſo,
For us nedith with her have moche to do
In our mattirs, and alway more and more;
And ſo forthe to tellin you furthirmore
Of this lady, her beaute to difcrive
My conninge is to fimple verily,
For nevir yet the dayis of my live
So inly faire I have fene none trewly,
In her eftate affurid uttirly;
There wantid nought, I dare you well afſure,
That longid to a moſt godely creture.
And furthirmore, to fpeke of her araye,
I fhal tel you the manir of her gowne;
Of clothe of golde ful riche, it is no nay,
The colour blewe, of right godely facyoun,
In taberde wife, the fleves hanging adown,
And what purfil there was, and in what wife,
So as I can I fhal it you devife :
Aftir a forte the collir and the vente,
Lyke as armine is made in purfilinge,
With grete perlis ful fine and orient,
They were couchid all aftir one worching,
With diamondes in ftede of powdiring,
The flevis and the purfill of a fiſe,
They werin made alike in every wife.
Aboute her necke a forte of faire rubyes,
In white flouris of right fine enamaile,
Upon her hed fet in the faireſt wiſe
A circle of grete balais of entaile,
That in erneft, to fpeke withoutin faile,
For yonge and olde and every manir age
It was a worlde to loken on her viſage.
Thus coming forth to fit in her eſtate,
In her prefence we kneled down everychone,
Preſenting our byllis; and wote ye what?
Ful humbly the toke 'hem by one and one :
Whan we had done than came they al anone
And did the fame eche aftir her manere,
Kneling at ones and rifing al in fere.
Whan this was don, and ſhe ſet in her place,
The chambirlaine fhe did unto her cal,
And the godely coming to her apace,
Of her entent knowing nothing at al,
Voyde backe the prefe (quod fhe) up to the wall,
Make large rome, but loke that ye do not tary,
And take thefe byllis to the fecretary.
The chambirlaine did her commaundèment,
And came againe as fhe was byd to do,
The fecretary there beyng preſent
The byllis were delivered her alfo,
Not onely ours but many othir mo,
Than the lady with gode adviſe againe
Anone with al callid her chambirlaine.
We wol (quod fhe) the firſt thing that ye da
The fecretary ye make come anone
With ther bilis, and thus we wil alfo
In our prefence fhe rede 'hem everychon,
That we may takin gode adviſe theron
Of the ladies that ben of our counfaile;
Loke this be done withoutin any faile.
Whan the chambirlaine wifte of her entent
Anone fhe did the fecretarye call;
Let your billis (quod fhe) be here preſent,
My lady' it wil. Madame (quod ſhe) I fhal.
And in preſence fhe wil that ye 'hem call.
With right gode wil I am redy (quod fhe)
At her plefure, whan the commaundith me.
1
THE ASSEMBLE OF LADIES.
And upon that was made an ordinaunce
They that came firft ther byllis fhulde be red,
Ful gentilly than ſaid Perfeveraunce,
Refon it wil that they were foniſt ſpedde;
Anone withal, upon a tapet fpredde,
The fecretarye layde 'hem downe echone;
Our byllis firſt ſhe redde tho one by one.
The first lady bering in her devife
Sans que jamays, thus wrote the on her byl,
Complaining fore, and in ful pitous wife,
Of promiffe made with faithful hert and wyll,
And fo brokin ayent al manir ſkil,
Without deferte alwaies on her partie,
In this matir defiring remedye.
Her next fol'owing her word was in this wife,
Un fans changer, and thus ſhe did complaine,
Though fhe had be guerdoned for her fervice
Yet nothing like as the that toke the paine,
Wherfore the coude in no wife her reftraine,
But in this cafe fewe until her prefence,
As refon wolde, to havin recompence.
So furthirmore, to fpeke of othir twaine,
One of 'hem wrote aftir her fantaſy
Onques puis lever, and for to tel you plaine,
Her complaint was ful pitous verily,
For, as the faid, there was grete refon why:
As I can remembre in this matere
I hal you tell the proceffe al in fere.
Her byl was made complaining in her gife,
That of her joye, her comforte, and gladneſſe,
Was no furetie, for in no manir wife
She ſaid therin no point of ſtableneſſe;
Now yl, now wele, out of al fikirneffe,
Ful humbly defiring of her high grace
Sone to fhewe her remedy in this caſe.
Her felawe made her bil, and thus fhe faid,
In plaining wife, There as fhe lovid beſt,
Whethir that he were wrothe or weie apaide,
She might not fe whan that ſhe wole faineft,
And fulle wrothe fhe was in very erneft;
To tel her worde, as ferforth as I wote,
Entierement voftre, right thus fhe wrote.
And upon that ſhe made a grete requeſt
With hert and wil, and al that might be done,
As until her that might redreffe it beft,
For in her minde there might the finde it fone
The remedy of that whiche was her bone,
Reherfing that that ſhe had faide before,
Befechinge her it might be ſo no more.
And in like wife as they had done before
The gentylwomen of our company
Put ther byllis; and for to tell you more,
One of 'hem wrote C'eft fans dire verily,
And her matere wholy to ſpecify
Within her byl fhe put it in writinge,
And what it faid ye fhall y have knowinge.
It ſaid, God wote, and that ful pitoufly,
Lyke as ſhe was difpofid in her herte,
No misfortune that the toke grevouſly,
Al one to her was the joy and the ſmerte,
Sometime no thanke for al her gode deferte,
Othir comforte fhe wantid none coming,
And ſo ufid it grevid her nothing;
Defiring her and lowly befeching,
That the wolde for her feke a better way,
As ſhe tl at had yben her daies lyving
Sedfaft and trewe, and wil be fo alway:
Of her felawe fomwhat I fhal you fay,
Whofe byl was red the nextè forthe withal,
And what it ment reherlin you I fhal.
Ex Dieu eft the wrote in her deviſe,
And thus the faid withoutin any faile,
Her trouthe ne might be takin in no wife,
Like as fhe thought, wherfor fhe had mervaile,
For trouth fomtyme was wont to take availe
In every mattere, but al that' is ago,
The more pyte that it is fuffrid ſo.
[plain,
Moche more there was, wherof fhe fhuld com
But the thought it to gret an encombraunce
So moche to write, and therfore in certain
In God and her fhe put all her affiaunce,
As in her worde is made a remembraunce,
Befeching her that fhe wolde in this cace
Shewe unto her the favour of her grace.
The thirde ſhe wrote reherfing her grevaunce,
Ye, wote ye what a pitous thing to here?
For as me thought the felt grete difplefaunce,
One might ryght wel perceve it by her chere;
And no vondir, it fate her paffyng nere,
Yet lothe ſhe was to put it in writinge,
But Nede wol bavin courſe in every thinge.
Soyes affure, this was her word certain,
And thus fhe wrote within a litil ſpace;
There the lovid her labor was in vaine,
For he was fet al in anothir place,
Ful humilly defiring in that cace
Some gode conforte her forowe to appeſe,
That she might livin more at hert'is eſe,
The fourth furely me thought the likid wele,
As in her porte and in her behavinge,
And Bien monefte, as ferre as I coude fele,
That was her worde, tyl her belonging,
Wherfore to her the praied above al thing
Ful hertily, to ay you in fuſtance,
That ſhe wold fendin her gode Countinaunce,
Ye have reherfid me theſe byllis all,
But nowe let fe fomwhat of your entent;
It may ſo hap paravinture ye fhal;
Nowe I pray you while I am here prefent
Ye fhal have knowlege parde what I ment,
But thus I fay in trouth, and make no fable,
The cace it felfe is inly lamentable;
And wel I wote that ye wol thynke the fame,
Lyke as I fay, whan ye have herde my byl;
Now gode, tel on; I hate you by Saint Jame;
Abyde a while, it is not yet my wil,
Yet muft ye wete by refon and by ſkil,
Sith ye' have knowlege of that was don before,
And thus it is faid, without wordis more:
Nothing fo lefe as deth to come to me,
For final ende of my forowes and paine;
What fhuld I more defire as femith ye?
And ye knewe al aforne it for certaine
I wote ye wolde, and for to tel you plaine,
Without her helpe that hath al thinge in cure
I can nat thinke that it may long endure.
THE ASSEMBLE OF LADIES,
A
As for my trouth it hath be provid wele,
To ſay the fothe, and I can fay no more,
Of ful longe tyme, and fuffrid every dele
In pacience, and kepe it all in ſtore,
Of her godeneffe befeching her therfore
That I might have my thanke in foche a wife
As m, deſerte yſervith of juſtiſe,
Whan theſe billis were rad everychone
The ladie toke a gode adviſement,
And 'hem to anfwerin by one and one
She thought it was to moche in her entent,
Wherfore the yave to 'hem commaundèment
In her preſence to come both one and al
To yeve 'hem her anfwere in generall.
What dyd fhe than fuppofe ye verily?
She fpake her felfe, and ſaid in this manere:
We have wel fene your byllis by and by,
And ſome of 'hem be pitous for to here,
We wol therefore ye knowe al this in fere,
Within fhorte tyme our court of parliment
Here ſhal be holde in our palays prefente,
And in al this wherin you find you greved
There ſhall ye finde an opin remedy,
In foche a wife as ye fhal be releved
Of al that ye reherfin here thoroughly;
As for the date, ye fhal knowe verily
That ye may have a ſpace in your coming,
For Diligence fhal tel you by writing.
We thankid her in our moſt humble wife
Our felawſhip eche one by one affent,
Submittinge u- lowly til her ſervice,
For as we thought we had our travaile ſpent
In foche wife as we heldin us content;
Than eche of us toke othir by the fleve,
And forth withal as we ſhulde take our leve,
Al fodainly the watir ſprange anone
In my vifage, and therwithal I woke :
Where am I now? thought I; al this is gone,
Al amafid; and up I began to loke:
With that anon I went and mode this Boke,
Thus fimpilly reherfing the ſubſtaunce,
Bicauſe it fhulde not be' out of remembraunot,
Now verily your dreme is paffing gode,
And worthy to be had in remembraunce,
For though I ftand here as longe as I ſtode
It ſhulde not to me be none encombraunce,
I toke therin fo inly grete plefaunce;
But tel me nowe what ye the boke do cal,
For I muſte wete. Wyth right gode wyl ye shal
As for this boke, to fay you very right,
And of the name to tel you' in certainte,
l'aſſemble de Dames, thus it hight.
How thinkin ye? That name is gode parde.
Nowe go; farewel; for they cal aftir me
My felawes al, and I muſt aftir fone:
Rede wel my dreme, for now my tale is done.
وها
+452
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
CHAUCER'S DREAME*.
Never before the year 1597 printed: that which heretofore hath gone under the name of
his Dreame, is The Book of the Ducheſſe, or The Death of Blanch, Ducheſſe of Lan-
cafter.
WHEN Flora, the quene of Plefaunce,
Had whole achievid th' obeyfaunce
Of the freſh and the new ſeſon
Thorow out every region,
And with her mantle whole covert
That wintir made had diſcovert,
Of avinture withoutin light
In May I lay upon a night
Alone, and on my lady thought,
And how the Lord that her ywrought
Couth well entayle in imagery,
And ſhewid had grete maiſtiry,
When he in fo litil a ſpace
Made fuch a body and a face,
So grete beautie with fwich fetures,
More than in othir creätures;
And in my thoughtis as I lay
Within a lodge out of the way,
Befide a well in a forcit,
Where aftir hunting I toke reft,
Nature and kind fo in me wrought
That halfe on flepe they me ybrought,
And gan to dreme to my thinking
With mind of knowliche like making,
*This Dreame, devided by Chaucer, femeth to be a co-
vert report of the marriage of John of Gaunt, the king's
fonne, with Blanch, the daughtir of Henry, Duke of Lan-
cafter, who after long love (during the time wherof the
poet faineth them to be dead) were in the end by conſent
of friends happily maried, figured by a bird bringing in her
bill an hearbe which restored them to lyfe againe. Here
alfo is fhewed Chaucer's match with a certain gentlewo-
man, who although the was a stranger, was notwithftand-
ing fo well liked and loved of the Lady Blanch and her lord,
as Chaucer himfelfe alfo was, that gladly they concluded a
marriage between them. Urry.
For what I dremid, as me thought,
I faw it, and I fleptin nought,
Wherefore is yet my full beleve
That fome gode ſpirit that ilke cve,
By mene of fome curious port,
Bare me where I faw payne and sport;
But whether it were I woke or flept
Well wot I oft I lough and wept;
Wherefore I woll in remembraunce
Put whole the payne and the pleſaunce,
Which was to me axin and hele;
Would God ye wift it everydele,
Or at the left ye might o night
Of fuch anothir have a fight
Although it were to you a payne,
Yet on the mo'row ye would be fayne,
And wish that it might long endurc,
'Then might ye fay ye had gode cure,
For he that dremes and wenes he fe
Mochil the bettir yet maie he
Ywit what, and of whom, and where.
And eke the laffe it woll hindere
To thinke I fe this with mine eene,
Iwis this may not dremè kene,
But figne or a fignifiaunce
Of hafty thing founing plefaunce;
For on this wife upon a night,
As ye have herd, withoutin light,
Not all wakyng ne full on flepe,
About fuch hour as lovirs wepe
And cric aftir ther ladies grace,
Befell me tho this wondir cace,
Which ye fhall here, and all the wife,
So wholly as I can devife:
CHAUCER'S
463
DREAM E.
}
1
In playne English evill writtin,
For flepe writir, well ye wittin,
Excufid is though he do mis
More than one whiche that waking is,
Wherefore here of your gentilneffe
I you requyre my boiſtouſneſſe
Ye lettin paffe as thingê rude,
And herith what I woll conclude,
And of the' endityng taketh no hede,
Ne of the termes, fo God you fpede,
But let all paffe as nothing were,
For thus befell, as you fhall here.
Within an yle methought I was
Where wall and yate was all of glaffe,
And fo was clofid round about
That leveleffe none come in ne out,
Uncouth and ftraungè to behold,
For every yate of fine gold
A thouſand fanis aie turning
Entunid had, and briddes finging
Divers, and on eche fane a paire
With opin mouth again the aire;
And of a fute were all the toures,
Subtily corvin aftir floures,
Of uncouth colours during aye,
That nevir ben none fenc in May,
With many a ſmall turret hie;
But man on live could I non fie,
Ne creturis, fave ladies play,
Which werin fuch of ther array
That as me thought of godelihed
They paffeden all and womanhed,
For to behold them daunce and fing
It femid like none erthly thing,
Such was ther uncouth countinaunce
In every play of right uſaunce,
And of one age everichone
They femid all fave onely one,
Which had of yeris fuffifaunce,
For fhe might neythir fing ne daunce,
But yet her countenaunce was ſo glad,
And ſhe fo fewe yeris had had
As any ladie that was there,
And as litil it did her dere
Of luftines to laugh and tale
As fhe had full ftuffid a male
Of difportis and new playis;
Faire had the ben in her dayis,
And maiftreffe femid well to be
Of all that lufty coinpanie,
And fo the might, I you enfure,
For one the conningift creture
She was, and fo faid everichone,
That er her knew, there failid none,
For ſhe was ſober, and well aviſed,
And from every fault diſguiſed,
And nothing uſed but faith and truth;
That ſhe n'as young it was grete ruth,
For every where and in ech place
She govirnid her, that in grace
She ftode alway with pore and riche,
That a word was none her liche,
Ne halfe fo' able maiſtreſs to be
To fucha lufty companie.
Befell me fo, when I avifed
Yhad the yle that me fuffifed,
And whole th' eftate every where
That in the lufty yle was there,
Which was more wondir to devife
Than is the joyous paradife,
1 dare well fay, for floure ne tre,
Ne thing wherein plefaunce might be,
There faylid none, for every wight,
Had they defirid day and night
Richis and hele, beauty and efe,
With every thing that them might plefe,
But thinke and have, it coft no more;
In fuch a country there before
Had I not ben ne herdin tell
That livis creature might dwell.
And when I had thus all about
The yle avifid thoroughout
The ſtate, and how they were arayed,
In my hert I wexe well appayed,
And in my felfe I me affured
That in my body' I was well ured,
Sithin I might have ſuch a grace
To fe the ladies and the place,
Which were fo faire, I you enfure,
That to my dome though that Nature
Would evir ſtrive and do her paine
She fhould not con ne mow attaine
The left feture for to amend,
Though she would all her conning ſpende,
That unto beautie might availe,
It were but paine and loſt travaile,
Such part in ther nativitie
Was then alargid of beautie;
And cke they had a thing notable
Unto ther deth ay durable,
And was, that ther beauty should dure,
Which was nevir fene in creture,
Save onily there (as I trow)
It ne hath not be wiſt ne know,
Wherefore I praiſe with ther conning
That during beautie, richè thing,
Had they ben of ther lives certaine
They had ben quite of every paine.
And when I wend thus all have fene
The ſtate, the riches, that might bene,
That me thought impoffible were
To fe one thing more than was there
That to beautie or glad conning
Serve or availe might any thing,
All fodainly as I there ftode
This lady, that couth fo much gode,
Unto me came with fmiling chere,
And faid, Benedicite! this yere
Saw I nevir man here but you;
Tell me how ye come hidir now,
And your name, and where that ye dwell
And whom ye feke eke mote ye tell,
And how ye come be to this place;
The foth well told my cauſe you grace,
And cllis ye mote priſoner be
Unto the ladies here and me,
That have the governaunce of this yle;
And with that word the gan to fmile,
464
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
And fo did all the lufty rout
Of ladies that ftode her about.
Madame, (quod !) this n ght ypaſt
Lodgid I was and flept. faſt
In a foreft befide a well,
And now am here, how fhould I tell?
Wot I not by whofe ordinance,
But onely Fortune's purveiance,
Which puttith many, as 1 geffe,
To travaile, paine, and bufineffe,
And lettith nothing for ther truth,
But fome fleeth eke, and that is ruth,
Wherefore I doubt her brittilnes,
Her variance and unftedfaftnes,
So that I am as yet afraid,
And of my beyng here amaid,
For wondir thing it femith me
Thus many freſh ladies to fe
So faire, fo cunning, and fo
And no man dwelling them among;
N'ot I not how I hidir come,
Madame, (quod I) this all and ſome :
What ſhould I faine a long proceffe
that feme fuch a princeffe?
What plefith you commaund or ſay,
Here I am redy to obay
To you,
yong,
To my powir, and all fulfill,
And prifonir bide at your will,
Till you duly enformid be
Of every thing ye afke me.
This laay there right well apaid
Me by the hande ytoke, and ſaid,
Welcome, prifoner adventurus,
Right glad am I ye have faid thus,
And for ye doubt me to diſpleſe
I will affay to do you efe:
And with that word, ye, right anon,
She and the ladies everichon
Affemblid, and to counfaile went,
And aftir that fone for me fent,
And to me faid on this manere,
All word for word, as ye fhall here :
To fe you here us thinke marvaile,
And how withoutin bote or faile,
By any fubtilty or wyle,
Ye get have entre in this yle,
But not for that yet fhall ye fe
That we gentill women ybe,
Loth to diſplefin any wight,
Notwithſtanding our grete right;
And for ye fhall well undirſtond
The oldè cuſtome of this lond,
Which hath continued many yere,
Ye fhall well wete that with us here
Ye may not bide, for caufis twaine
Which we be purpoſed you to faine.
The one is this; our ordinance,
Which is of long continuance,
Ne woll not, fothly we you tell,
That no man here among us dwell,
Wherefore ye mote nedis retourne ;
In no wife may you here fojourne.
The othir is eke, that our quene
Out of the relme, as ye maie fene,
ls, and may be to us a charge
If we let goe you here at large,
For whichè cauſe the more we doubt
To doe a fault while fhe is
out,
Or fuffir that may be noyſance
Againe our old accuftomance.
And when I had thefe caufis twaine
Yherd, o God! what mochil paine
All fodainly about mine hert
There came at onis, and how fmert!
In creping foft as who ſhould ſtele
Or doe me robbe of all mine hele,
And made me in my thought fo afraid
That in courage I ftode difmaid;
And ſtanding thus, as was my grace,
A lady came more than apace,
With a huge preifè her about,
And told how that the quene without
Was arivid, and would come in ;
Well were they that hidir might twin;
They hied fo they would not abide
The bridiling ther horſe to ride,
By five, by fixe, by two, by thre;
There was not one abode with me;
The quene to mete everichone
They went, and bode with me not one;
And I went aftir a foft pafe,
Imagining how to purchaſe
Grace of the quene there to abide
Till gode fortune ſome happy guide
Me fendin might, that would me bring
Where I was borne, to my wonning,
For way ne fote ne knew I none,
Ne whithirward I n'ift to gonc,
For all was fe about the yle;
No wonder though me lift not finile,
Seing the cafe uncouth and ftraunge;
And fo in like a perilous chaunge,
Imagi'ning thus walking alone.
I ſaw the ladies everichone,
So that I might fomwhat offer,
Sone aftir that I drew me nere,
And tho I was ware of the quene,
And how the ladies on ther knene
With joyous words gladly adviſed
Her welcomed fo that it fuffifed
Though the the princes whole had be
Of all environed is with fe;
And thus avifing with chere fad
All fodainly I was right glad,
That gretir joy, as mote I thrive,
I trow had nevir man on live
Than I tho, ne an hert more light,
When of my lady I had fight,
Which with the quene ycone was there,
And in one clothing both they were;
A knight alſo there well befene
I faw that come was with the quene,
Of whom the ladies of that yle
Had huge wondir a long while,
Till at the laft right fobirly
The quene her felf full cunningly,
With fofte wordis in gode wife,
Said to the ladies yong and nife,
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
405
My fiftirs, how it hath befall
I trow ye know it one and all
That of long time here have I bene
Within this yle biding as quene,
Living at efc, that nevir wight
More parfit joy havin ne might,
And to you ben of govirnance
Such as you found in whole plefance,
In every thing as ye know
Aftir our cuftome and our low,
Which how they firft yfoundin were
I trow ye wote all the manere;
And who the quenc is of this yle,
As I have ben this longè while,
Ech fevin yeres mote of ufage
Viſit the hevenly armitage
Which on a rock fo high yftonds,
In ftrangè fe out from all londs,
That to makin the pilgrimage
Is called a long peri'lous viage,
For if the wind be not gode frend
The journey duris to the end
Of him whiche that it undirtakes;
Of twenty thouſand one not ſcapes ;
Upon which rock growith a tre
That certaine yeres beres applis thre,
Which thre applis who fo may have
Ben from all difplefaunce yfave
That in the fevin yere may fall,
This wote ye well bothe one and all,
For the firft apple and the hext
Which ygrowith unto you next
Yhath thre vertues notable,
And kepith youth aie durable,
Beauty and loke evir in one,
And is the beft in everichone.
The ſecond apple red and grene,
Oncly with lokis of your yene
You nouriſhis in grete pleſaunce
Bettir than partridge or fefaunce,
And fedis every liv'is wight
Plefantly onely with the fight.
And the third apple of the thre,
Which growith lowiſt on the tre,
Who it beris ne may not faile
That to his plefaunce may availe,
So your plefure and beauty rich
Your during youth evir yliche,
Your truth, your cunning, and your wele,
Hath aye flourid, and your gode hele,
Without ficknes or difplefaunce,
Or thing that to you was noyfaunce,
So that you have as goddeffes
Livid above all princeffes :
Now is befall, as ye may fe,
To gathir theſe faid applis thre,
I have not failed againe the day
Thithirwardis to take the way,
Wening to fpede as I had oft;
But when I come I find aloft
My fiftir, which that here yſtands,
Having thofe applis in her hands,
Avifing them, and nothing faid,
But lokid as he were well paid;
VOL. I.
And as I ftode her to behold,
Thinking how my joyis were cold
Sith I thofe applis have ne might,
Evin with that fo came this knight,
And in his armes of me aware
Me toke, and to his fhip me bare,
And faid, though him I ner had fene
Yet had I long his lady ben,
Wherefore I ſhould with him ywend,
And he would to his liv'is end
My fervant be, and gan to fing
As one that had wonne a rich thing:
Tho were my ſpirits fro me gone
So fodainly evèrichone
That in me apperid but deth,
For I felt neithir life ne breth,
Ne gode ne harmè none I knewe;
The fodaine paine me was fo new,
That had not the hafty grace be
Of this lady, that fro the tre
Of her gentilneſſe ſo hyid
Me to comfort I had dyid,
And of her thre applis fhe one
Into mine hand there put anone,
Which brought againe my mind and breth,
And me recovered from the deth ;
Wherefore to her fo am I hold
That for her all things do I wold,
For fhe was lech of all my fmert,
And from grete paine fo quite mine hert,
And, as God wote, right as ye here
Me to comfort with frendly chere
She did her proweffe and her might;
And truly eke fo did this knight
In that he couth, and oftin faid
That of my wo he was ill paid,
And curfed the fhip that them there brought,
The maft, the maftir that it wrought:
And as cch thing mote have an end,
My fiftir here, your brothir frend,
Con with her words fo womanly
This knight entrete and conningly,
For mine honour and his alfo,
And ſaid that with her we ſhould go
Both in-her fhip, where fhe was brought,
Which was fo wondirfully wrought,
So clene, fo rich, and ſo araid,
That we were both content and paid;
And me to comfort and to plefe,
And mine hert for to put at efe,
She toke grete paine in litil while,
And thus hath brought us to this yle,
As ye may fe; wherfore echone
I pray you thanke her one and one
As hertly as ye can devife
Or imagine in any wife.
At once there tho men mightin feen
A world of ladies fall on kneen
'Fore my lady, that there about
Was left none ftanding in the rout,
But altogither they went at ones
To knele; they fpared not for the ftones,
Ne for eftate, ne for ther blode;
Well fhewid there they couth much gode :
G g
466
DREAME.
CHAUCER'S
To my lady they made fuch feſt,
And with fuch wordis, that the left
So frendly and fo faithfully
Yfaid was and fo cunningly,
That wondir was, feing ther youth,
To here the language that they couth,
And wholly how they governed were
In thanking of my lady there,
And faid by will and maundement
They were at her commaundèment,
Which was to me as grete a joy
As winning of the toune of Troy
Was to the hardy Grekis ftrong
When they it wan with fiegè long,
To fe my lady' in fuch a place,
And fo recevid as fhe was.
And when they talkid had a while
Of this and that, and of the yle,
My lady and the ladies there,
Altogithir as they ywere,
The quene her felf began to play,
And to the agid lady fay,
Now femith you not gode it were,
Sith we be altegithir here,
'To ordaine and devife the beſt
To fet this knight and me at reft,
For Woman is a feble wight
To rere a warre against a knight;
And fith he here is in this place,
left in dangir or grace,
At my
It were to me grete villany
To do him any tiranny ;
But faine I would, now will ye here,
In his owne country that he were,
And I in pece and he at efe;
This were a way us both to pleſe;
If it might be I you befeche
With him hereof you fall in fpeche.
This lady tho began to fmile,
Avifing her a litil while,
And with glad chere fhe faid anone,
Madain, I will unto him gone,
And with him fpeke, and oftin felc
What he defiris every dele:
And fobirly this lady tho
Her felfe, and othir ladies two
She toke with her, and with fad chere
Said to the knight on this manere ;
Sir, the grete princes of this yle,
Whom for your plefance many a mile
Ye fought have, as I undirftond,
'Till at the laft ye have her fond
Me fent hath here, and ladies twaine,
To herin all thing that ye faine;
And for what cauſe ye have her fought
Faine would fhe wote, and whole your thought,
And why you do her all this wo,
And for what caufe you be her fo,
And why of every wight unware
By force ye to your fhip her bare,
That fhe fo nigh ywas agone
'That mind ne fpech ne had the none,
But as a painfull creature
Dying abode her advinture,
That her to fe indure that paine
Here we all fay unto you plaine
Right on your felfe ye did amiffe,
Seing how the a princes is.
This knight, the which ycowth his gode,
Right of his truth mevid his blode,
That pale he woxe as any led,
And lok't as tho he wold be ded;
Blode was there none in nothir cheke,
Wordleffe he was, and feniid ficke;
And fo it provid well he was,
For without moving any paas,
All fodainly as thing dying,
He fell at onis downe fowning;
That for his wo this lady fraid
Unto the quene her hyed, and faid,
Cometh on anon, as have you bliffe,
But ye be wife; thing is amiffe;
This knight is ded or will be ſone,
Lo! where he lyith in a fwone
Withoutin word or anfwiring
To that I have ſaid any thing;
Wherefore I doubt moche that the blame
Might be hindiring to your name,
Which flourid hath fo many yere,
So longè that for nothing here
I would in no wife that he dyed,
Wherefore it gode were that ye hyed,
His life to favin at the left;
And aftir that his wo be ceſt
Commaundith him to voide or dwell,
For in no wife dare I more mell
Of thing wherein fuch perill is
As like is now to fall of this.
This quene right tho, full of grete fere,
With all the ladies prefent there,
Unto the knight came where he lay,
And made a fady to him fay,
Lo! here the quene; awake, for fhame!
What will you doe? is this gode game?
Why lye you here? what is your mind?
Now is well fene your wit is blind,
To fe fo many ladies here
And ye to make none othir chere;
But as ye fet them all at nought
Arife for his love that you bought.
But what fhe faid a word not one
He fpake, ne anfwere gave her none.
The quene of very pitty tho,
Her worship and his life alfo
To favin, there fhe did her paine,
And quoke for fere, and gan to ſaine,
For woe, alas! what fhall I doe!
What fhall I fay this man unto ?
If he die here loft is my name :
How fhal I play this perillous game?
If any thing be here amiffe
It fhall be faid it rigour is,
Whereby my name impayrin might;
And like to die eke is this knight:
And with that word her hand fhe laid
Upon his breft, and to him ſaid,
Awake, my knight! lo! it am I
That to you Ipeke; now tell me why
CHAUCER'S
467
DREAM E.
ve ime this, and this painc endure,
Ecing you be in country fure,
Among fuch frends that would you hele,
Iour hert'is efe eke and your wele?
And if I wift what you might eſe,
Or know the thing that you might plefe,
I vou enfure it ſhould not faile
That to your hele you might availe;
Wherefore with all my hert I pray
Ye rife, and let us talke and play:
And fe how many ladies here
Be comin for to make gode chere!
All was for nought, for ſtill as itone
He lay, and word ne ſpoke he none;
Long while was or he might braid;
And of all that the quene had faid
He wift no word; but at the laſt
O mercy! twife he cryid faſt,
That pittie was his voice to here,
Or to behold his painefull chere,
Which was not feined was well to fein
Both by his vifage and his eyn,
Which on the quene at once he caſt,
And fighid as he would to braft,
And aftir that eke he fhright fo
That wondir was to fe his wo,
For fithin that payne was first named
Was ner more wofull payne attained,
For with voyce did he gan to plaine,
And to himfelfe thefe wordis faine;
J, wofull wight full of malure,
And worfe than ded, and yet I dure,
And maugre any paine or deth
Against my will I fele my breth:
Why n'am I ded, fith 1 ne ferve,
And fith my lady will me fterve?
Where art thou, Deth? art thou agaft?
Well fhall we mete yet at the laſt
Though thou the hide it is for nought,
For where thou dwelft thou shalt be fought :
Mangre thy fubtill double face
Here will I die right in this place.
To thy dishonour and myn cie
Thy mannir is no wight to plefe:
What nedis the, fith I the feche,
So the to hide, my paine to eche?
And well woft thou I will not live
Who would me all this world here give,
For I have with my cowardife
Loft joy, and hele, and my fervife,
And made my foveraigne lady ſo,
That while the lives I trow my
She will be evir to her end;
Thus have I neither joy ne frend.
Wote I not whethir haft or floth
Hath caufid this now by my troth,
For at the hermitage full hie,
When I her faw firft with myne cye,
Thyid till I was aloft,
fo
And made my pacè ſmall and foft,
Till in mine arines I had her faft,
And to my flip bare at the laſt,
Wherof the wis difplefid fo
That endles there femid her we,
And I thereof had fo grete fere
That me repent that I come there,
Which haft I trow gan her difplefe,
And is the cauſe of my difefe.
And with that word he gan to cry,
Now Deth, Deth, come, twyis or thry,
And motrid I n'ot what of flouth:
And even with that the quene of routh
Him in her armis toke, and fayd,
Now, mine owne knight! be' not illapayd
That I a lady to you fent
To have knowledge of your entent,
For in gode faith I men't but well,
And would ye wift it every dele,
Nor will not do to you ywis;
And with that word fhe gan him kiſſe,
And prayed him rife, and faid fhe would
His welfare by her truth, and told
Him how fhe was for his diſefe
Right fory, and faine would him pleſe,
His lyfe to fave. Thefe wordis tho
She faid to him, and many mo,
In comforting, for from the paine
She would he were delivered faine.
The knight tho up ycaft his een,
And when he faw it was the quene
That to him had thefe wordis faid,
Right in his wo he gan to braid,
And him up dreflis for to knele,
The quene avifing wondir wele;
But as he rofe he ovirthrew,
Wherefore the quene yet eft anew
Him in her armis anone toke,
And pitoufly gan on him loke;
But for all that nothyng the fayd,
Ne fpake not like the were well payd,
Ne no chere made nor fad ne light,
But all in one to every wight
There was fene conning with eſtate
In her without noyfe or debate,
For fave onely a loke piteous
Of womenhed undifpitcous,
That the fhowid in continance,
Far femed her hert from obeifance,
And not for that he did her reine
Him to recovir from the peine,
And his hert for to put at large,
For her entent was to his barge
Him for to bryng agaynft the eve,
With certeine ladies, and take love,
And pray him of his gentilneffe
To fuffir her thenceforth in pece,
As othir princis had before,
And from thenceforth for evirmore
She would him worthip in all wife
That gentilneffe ymight devile,
And payne her wholly to fulfill
In honour his plefure and will.
And during thus this knightis wo,
Prefent the quene and othir nto,
My lady' and many' an othir wight,
Ten thoufand fhippis at a fight
I faw come oer the wavy Bode
With fayle and ore, that as I ftods
G g ij
468
DREAME.
CHAUCER'S
1
Them to behold I gan marvaile
From whom might come fo many' a faile,
For fith the tyme that I was bore
Such a navie there n'ere before
Had I not fene, ne fo arayed,
That for the fight my hert yplayed
Aye to and fro within my breft
For joy; long was or it would refl;
For there was faylis full of floures,
Aftir caftils with hugè toures,
Yfeming full of armis bright.
That wondir lufty was the fight,
With large toppis and maftis long,
Richly depeint, and reare among
At certaine timis gan repayre
Śmale birdis doune from the aire,
And on the fhippis bounds about
Yfate and fong with voyce full out
Ballades and layes right joyously,
As they cowth in ther harmony,
That you to write that I there fe
Mine excufe is it may not be ;
For why? the mattir were to long
To name the birds and write ther fong;
Whereof anon the tydings there
Unto the quene fone brought ywere,
With many' alas and many, a doubt,
Shewing the fhippis there without :
Tho gan the agid lady wepe,
And faid, Alas! our joy on flepe
Sone fhal be brought, ye, long or night,
For we difcried ben by this knight,
For certes it may none othir be
Z
But he is of yond companie,
And they be come him here to feche;
And with that word her faylid fpeche.
Without reme'dy we be deftroid,
Ful oft faid all, and gan conclude
Wholy at onis at the laft
That beft was ſhit ther yatis faſt,
And arme them all in gode langage,
As they had done of old uſage,
And of fayre wordis make ther fhot;
This was ther counfaile and the knot,
And othir purpoſe toke they none,
But armid thus forth they all gone
Toward the wallis of the yle;
Eut or they comin there long while
They mettin the grete lord of bove
That callid is the god of Love,
That them avifid with fuch chere,
Right as he with then angry were:
Avayled them not ther wals of glaffe;
This mighty lord let not to paffe
The fhuttyng of ther yatis fatt;
All they had ordained was but waſt;
For when his fhips had foundin land
This lord anon, with bow in hand,
Into this yle with huge prefe
Yhyid faft, and would not cefe
Till he came there the knight ylay:
Of quene ne lady by the way
Toke he no hede, but forth he paſt,
And yet all followed at the laft.
And when he came where lay the knight
Well fhewid he he had grete might,
And forth the quene callid anone
And all the ladies everichone,
And to them faid, Is not this routh,
To fe my fervaunt for his trouth
Thus lene, thus ficke, and in this payne,
And wot not unto whom to playne,
Save onely one withoutin mo,
Which might him hele, and is his fo?
And with that word his hevy brow
He fhewid the quene, and lokid row,
This mighty lord forth tho anone
With o loke her faultis echone
He can her flew in litil fpech,
Commaunding her to be his lech.
Withoutin more, fhortly to fay,
He thought the quene fone fhould obay;
And in his hond he ſhoke his bow,
And faid right fone he would be know;
And for fhe had fo long refuſed
His fervice, and his lawes not uſed,
He let her wit that he was wroth,
And bent his bow, and forth he goth
A pace or two, and evin there
A large draught up to his ere
He drew, and with an arrow ground
Both ſharpe and newe the quene a wound
He gave that perfed unto the hert,
Which aftirward full fore gan fmert,
And was not whole of many yere;
And even with that Be of gode chere,
My knight, quod he; I will the hele,
And the reſtore to parfite wele,
And for ech payne thou hast endured
To have two joies thou art enured:
And forth he paffid by the rout,
With fobir chere walking about,
And what he faid I thought to here;
Well wift he whiche his fervaunts were :
And as he paflid anon he fond
My lady', and her toke by the hond,
And made her chere as a goddes,
And of Beaute called her Princes,
Of Bounty eke gave her the name,
And fayd there was nothyng to Llame
In her, but ſhe was vertuous,
Saving fhe would no pity uſe,
Which was the cauſe that he her fought
To put that far out of her thought;
And fithin fhe had whole richeffe
Of womanhed and frendlineffe,
He faid it was nothing fitting
To void Fity his owne leggyng;
And gan her prech and with her play,
And of her beauty told her aie,
And faid the was a creäture
Of whom the namè fhould endure,
And in his bokis full of plefaunce
Be put for er in remembraunce;
And as me thoughtin more frendly,
Unto my lady and godelily
He fpake than any that was therc;
And for the applis I trow it were
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
469
That fhe had in poffeffion,
Wherefore long in proceffion
Many a pace arme undir other
He welke, and fo did with none other:
But what he would commaund or fay
Forwith nedis all muſt obay,
And what he defired at the left
Of my lady was by requeſt:
And when they long together had bene
He brought my lady to the quene,
And to her faid, So God you ſpede
Shew grace and confent, that is nede.
My lady tho full conningly,
Right well avifed and womanly,
Downe gan to knele upon the floures
Which Aprill nouriſhed had with fhoures,
And to this mighty lord gan ſay,
That plefith you I woll obay,
And me reftraine from othir thought;
As ye woll al thyng fhall be wrought:
And with that word knefing the quoke.
That mighty lord in armes her toke,
And faid, You have a fervaunt, one
That truir living is ther none,
Wherefore gode were, feing his trouth,
That on his painis ye had routh,
And purpoſe you to here his ſpech,
Fully avifid him to lech,
For of one thyng ye may be fure,
He will be yours while he may dure.
And with that word right on his game
Me thought he lough, and told my name,
Which was to me marvaile and fere,
That what to do I ne wift there,
Ne whethir was me bet or none
There to abide or thus to gone,
For well wend I my lady wold
Imagin or deme I had told
My counfaile whole, or made complaint
Unto that lord, that mighty faint,
So verily ech thing unfought
He faid as he had knowne my thought,
And told my trouth and mine unefe
Bet than I couth have for mine efe,
Though I had ſtudied all a weke :
Weil wift that lord that I was feke,
And would be lechid wondir faine;
No man me blame, mine was the paine.
And when this lord had all yfaid,
And long while with my lady plaid,
She gan to fmile with fpirit glade;
This was the anfwere that ſhe made,
Which put me there in double peine,
That what to do ne what to feine
Wift I not, ne what was the beſt;
Ferre was my hert then fro his reſt,
For as I thought that fmiling figne
Was tokin that the hert encline
Would to requeftis refonable,
Becauſe Smiling is favorable
To every thing that ſhall thrive,
So thoughtin I tho anon blive
That Worldleje anfavere in no toun
Was tane for obligacioun,
Ne callid furety in no wife
Amongst them that callid ben wife:
Thus was I in a joyous dout,
Sure and unſuriſt of that rout:
Right as mine hert ythought it were
So more or leffe wexin my fere,
That if one thought ymade it wele
Anothir fhent it everydele,
Till at the laft I couth no more,
But purpoſed as I did before
To ferve truly my lyv'is fpace,
Awaiting er the
yere of grace,
Which may yfall yet or I fterve,
If that it plefe her that I ferve,
And fervid have, and woll do ever,
For thyng is none that me is lever
Than is her fervice, whoſe preſence
Mine heven is whole, and her abfence
An hell all full of divers paines,
Whych to the deth full oft me ftraines.
Thus in my thoughtis as I ftode,
That unneth felt I harme ne gode,
I faw the quene a litil paas
Come where this mighty lord ywas,
And knelid downe in prefence there
Of all the ladies that there were,
With fobir continaunce aviſed,
In few wordis that well fuffifed,
And to this lord anon prefent
A bill, wherein whole her entent
Was writtin, and how the befought,
As he knew every will and thought,
That of his godhed and his grace
He would forgyve all old trefpace,
And undifplefid be of time paſt,
For fhe would evir be ftedfaft,
And in his fervice to the deth
Ufe every thought while fhe had breth,
And fight and wept, and ſaid no more,
Within was writtin all the fore:
At whychè bill the lord gan fmyle,
And faid he would within that yle
Be lord and fyre both eſt and weſt,
And call'd it there his new conquest.
And in grete councell toke the quene;
Long were the talis them betwene :
And ovir her bill he red thrife,
And wondir gladly gan devife
Her fetures faire and her vifage,
And bad gode thrift on that image,
And faied he trowid her compleint
Should aftir caufe her be corfeint;
And in his fleve he put the bill,
Was there none that yknew his will,
And forthe he walke apace about,
Beholding all the lufty rout,
Halfe in a thought with fmiling chere,
Till at the laſt, as ye fhall here,
He turned unto the quene ageine,
And faid, To morne here in this pleine
I woll that ye be and all yours,
That purpofid ben to were flours,
Or of my lufty colour ufe,
It may not be to you excuſe,
::
G g fij
470
DREAM E.
CHAUCER'S
quene,
Ne to none of yours in no wife,
'That able be to my ſerviſe;
For as I faid have here before
I will be lord for evirmore
Of you, and of this yle, and all,
And of all yours that havin fhall
Joy, pece, or cfe, or in plefaunce
Your livis ufe without noyfaunce ;
Here will I in ftate be yfene,
And turned his vifage to the
And you give knowledge of my will,
And a full anfwere of your bill.
Was there no nay, ne wordis none,
But very' obeifaunt femed echone;
The quene and othir that were there
Well femid it they had grete fere,
And there toke lodging every knight,
Was none departid of that night,
And fome to rede old romances
Them occupied for ther plefances,
Some to n.ake verèlaies and laics,
And fome to othir diverfe plaies,
And I to me a romance toke,
And as I reding was the boke,
Methought the ſpherè had fo run
That it was rifing of the fun,
And fuch a pres into the plaine
Affemble gone, that with grete paine
One might for other go ne ftand,
Ne none take othir by the hand,
Withoutin they diftourbid were,
So huge and gret the pres was there.
And aftir that within two houres
This mighty lord clad all in floures
Of divers colours many' a paire
In his eſtate up in the aire
Well nigh two fathom, às his hight,
He fet him there in all ther fight,
And for the quene and for the knight,
And for my lady' and every wight,
In haft he fent, fo that ner one
Was there abfent, but come echone:
And when they thus affemblid were,
have herd me fay you here,
Without more tarrying on hight,
There to be fene of every wight,
Up fto among the
pres above
As ye
A counfaylir, fervaunt of Love,
Which femid well of gret eftate,
And fhewid there how no debate
Othir then godely might be uſed
In gentilueffe and be excuſed,
Wherefore he faid his lord'is will
Was every wight there fhould be ftill
And in pecs, and of one accord,
And thus commaundid at a word,
And can his tongue to fwiche language
To turne, that yet in all mine age
Herd I nevir fo conningly
Man fpeke, ne halfe fo faithfully,
For every thing he faid there
Semid as it infelid were, '
Or approvid for very trew:
Swichic was his cunning language newc,
}
And well according to his chere,
That where I be me thinke I here
Him yet alway, when I mine one
In any place may be alone:
Firft con he of the lufty yle
All the eſtate in lityl whyle
Rcherfe, and wholly every thing
That caufid there his lord's comming,
And every wele and every wo,
And for what caufe eche thing was fo
Well fhewed he there in efie fpech,
And how the ficke had nede of lech;
And that whiche whole was and in grace
He told plainly why ech thing was,
And at the laft he con conclude,
Voidid every language rude,
>
And faid, That prince, that mighty lord,
Or his departing would accord
All the parties were there prefent,
And was the fine of his entent,
Witneſſe his prefence in your fight,
Which fits among you in his might;
And knelid downe withoutin more,
And not o word yfpake he more.
Tho gan this mighty lord him dreffe,
With chere avifed, to do largeffe,
And faid unto this knight and me,
Ye fhall to joy reftorid be,
And for ye have ben truc ye twaine
I graunt you here for every paine
A thoufand joies every weke,
And loke ye be no lengir fcke,
And both your ladies, lo 'hem here!
Take ech his own; beth of gode chere,
Your happic day is now begun
Sith it was rifing of the fun,
And to all othir in this place
I graunt wholly to ftand in grace
That fervith truely without flouth,
And to avauncid be by trouth.
Tho
gan this knight and I downe knele,
Wening to doin wondir wele,
Seing, O lord! your grete mercy
Us hath enriched fo opinly
That we deferve may nevir more
The leftè part, but evirmore
With foule and body truely ferve
You and yours till that we ysterve:
And to ther ladies there they ftode
This knight, that couth fo mikil gode,
Ywent in haft, and I alfo ;
Joyous and glad werin we tho,
And al fo rich in every thought
As he that all hath and ought nought,
And them befought in humble wile
Us to accept to ther fervice,
And fhew us of ther frendle cheres,
Which in ther trefure many yeres
They keptin had, us to grete paine,
And told how ther fervauntis twainc
We were, would be; and fo had ever,
And to the doth chaunge would we never,
Ne doc offence, ne thinke like ill,
But fill ther ordinaunce and will;
•
CHAUCER'S
471
DREAME.
And made our othis frethe and new,
Our old ſervice for to renew,
And wholly ther's for evirmore
We there become; what might we more?
And well awaiting that in flouth
We made no fault ne in our trouth,
Ne thought not de, I you enfure,
With our will, whilis we may dure.
This fefon paft, againe an eve
This lord of the quene toke his leve,
And faid he would haſtely returne,
And at gode leifure there fojourne,
Both for his honour and his efe,
Commanding faft the knight to pleſe,
And gave his ftatutes in papirs,
And orderit divers officirs,
And forth to fhip the fame night
He went, and fone was out of fight.
And on the morowe when the aire
Attemprid was and wondir faire,
Erly at rifing of the fun,
Aftir the night away was run,
Yplaying us on the rivage,
My lady fpake of her voyage,
And faid fhe madin fmall journies,
And held her in ftraunge countèries,
And forthwith to the quenè went,
And fhewed her wholly her entent,
And toke her leve with chere weping,
That pity was to fe that parting;
For to the quene it was a paine,
As to a martyr new yflaine,
That for her woe, and ſhe ſo tender,
Yet I wepe oft when I remember :
She offerid there to refigne
To my lady eight times or nine
Th' aftate, the y le, fhortly to tell,
If it might plefe her there to dwell,
And faid, for evir her linage
Should to my lady doe homage,
And hers be whole withoutin more,
Ye, and all thers for evirmore.
Nay, God forbid! my lady eft,
With many cunning word and ſoft,
Said, that evir fuch a thing fhould bene
That I confent fhould that a quene
Of your eftate, and fo well named,
In any wife fhould be attamed,
But would be faine with all my hert,
What fo befell or how me ſmert,
To doin thing that you might plefe
In any wife or be your efe,
And kiflid there and bad gode night,
For which leve wept many a wight.
There might men here my lady praifed,
And fuch a name of her araifed,
What of cunning and frendlineffe,
What of beauty with gentilneffe,
And what of glad and frendly cheres
That the ufid in all her yeres,
That wondir was here every wight
To fay well how they did ther might,
And with a pres upon the morow
To fhip her brought, and what a forow
They made when ſhe ſhould undir faile,
That and
ус
wift
ye
would mervaile,
Forth goeth the fhip, out goeth the ſond,
And I as a wode man unbond,
For doubt to be left behind there,
Into the fe withoutin fere
Anon I ran, till with a waw
All fodenly I was oerthraw,
And with the watir to and fro
Backward and forward travailed fo
That mind and breth nigh was ygone,
For gode ne harme ne knew I none,
Til at the laft with hokis tweine
Men of the fhip with mckil peine
To fave my life did fuch travaile
That and ye wift ye would mervaile,
And in the fhip me drewe on hie,
And faidin all that I would die,
And laid me long downe by the maſt,
And of ther clothis on me caſt i
And there I made my teftament,
And wift my felfe not what I ment,
But when I faid had what I would,
And to the maft my wo all told,
And tane my leve of every wight,
And cloſed mine eyen and loft my fight,
Aviſed to die without more fpech,
Or any remedy to fech
Or gracè new, as was grete nede,
My lady of my paine toke hede,
And her bethought how that for trouth
To ſe me die it were grete routh,
And to me came in fobir wiſe,
And foftly faid, I pray you rife;
Come on with me; let be this fare;
All fhall be wel; have ye no care;
I will obey ye and fulfill
Wholly in al that lardis will
That you and me not long ago
Aftir his lift commaundid fo,
That there againe no refiftence
May be withoutin gret offence,
And therefore now loke what I fay,
1 am and will be frendly ye;
Rife up, behold this avauntage,
I grauntin you in heritage
All peceably withoutin ſtrive
During the dayis of your live;
And of her applis in my fleve
One fhe yput, and toke her leve
In wordis few, and faid, God hele
He that all made you fend, and wele!
Wherewith my pains all at ones
Tokin fuch leve, that all my bones,
For the new durenfè plefaunce,
So as they couth defired to daunce,
And I as whole as any wight
Up roſe with joyous hert and light,
Whole and unficke, right wele at eſe,
And all forget had my difefc,
And to my lady where the plaiɖ
I went anone, and to her faid;
He that all joies perlons to plefe
First ordainid with parfite efe,
✔
Gg iiij
}
472
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
And every plefure can depart,
Send you, Madame, as large a part,
And of his godis ſuch plenty,
As he has done you of beauty,
With hele, and all that may be thought,
He fend you all as he all wrought.
Madame, (quod I) your ſervaunt trew
Have I ben long, and yet will new,
Withoutin chaunge or repentaunce
In any wife or variaunce,
And fo will do, as thrive I ever,
For thing is none that me is fever
'T'han you to plefe how er I fare,
Mine hert's lady and my welfare,
My life, mine hele, my lech alfo
Of every thing that doth me wo,
My helpe at nede, and my furete
Of every joy that longs to me,
My fuccours whole in allè wife
1
That may be thought or man deviſe,
Your grace, Madame, fuch have I found,
Now in my nede, that I am bound.
To you for er, fo Chriſt me fave,
For hele and live of you I have,
Wherefore is refoun-I you ferve
With due obeifaunce till I fterve,
And ded and quicke be evir yours,
Late, erly, and at allè hours.
Tho came my lady fmall alite,
And in plaine English con confite,
In wordis few whole her entent
She fhewed me there, and how the ment
To me ward in every wife,
Wholly she came at ther deviſe,
Without proceffe or long travell,
Charging me to kepin counſell,
As I would to her grace attaine,
Of which conimaundement I was faine;
Wherefore I paffe oer at this time,
For counfell cords not well in rime,
And eke the oth that I have fwore
'To breke me were bettir unbore;
Why? for untrue for evirmore
I ſhould be hold, that nevirmore
Of me in place thould be report
Thing that availe might, or comfort
To mewardis in any wife,
And eche wight wouldin me diſpiſe
In that they couth, and me repreve,
Which were a thing fore for to greve,
Wherefore hereof more mencion
Make I not now ne long fermon,
But fhortly thus I me excufe,
To rime a counfell I refufe.
Sailing thus two dayis or thre
My lady towards her countre,
Ovir the wavis high and grene,
Which werin large and depe betwenc,
Upon a time me called and faid,
That of my hele fhe was well paid,
And of the quene and of the yle
She talkid with me a long while,
And of all that ſhe there had fenc,
And of th' cftate and of the quene,
And of the ladies name by name,
Two houres or mo this was her game,
Till at the laft the wind can rife,
And blew fo faft and in fuch wife
The fhip, that every wight can fay
Madame, cr eve be of this day,
And God toforc, ye shall be there
Aş ye would fainift that ye were,
And doubtith not within fixe hours
Ye shall be there as all is yours:
At which wordis fhe gan to fmile,
And ſaid that was no longè while
That they her fet; and up fhe rofe,
And all about the ship the gofe,
And made gode chere to every wight,
Till of the land fhe had a fight,
Of whichè fight glad, God it wot,
She was abafhid and abote,
And forth goeth, fhortly you to tell,
Where the accustomed was to dwell,
And recevid was, as gode right,
With joyous chere and hert'is light,
And as a glad new avinture
Plefaunt to evèry creture;
With which landing tho I awoke,
And found my chambir full of ſmoke,
My chekis eke unto the eres,
And all my body, wet with teres,
And all fo feble' and in fuch wife
I was, that unneth might I riſe,
So far travailid and fo faint,
That neithir knew I kirke ne faint,
Ne what was what ne who was who,
Ne avifed what way I would go;
But by an adventurous grace
I rife and walkt, fought pace and pace,
Till I a winding ſtaire yfound,
And held the vice aye in my hond,
And upward foftly fo can crepe
Till I came where I thought to flepc
More at mine efc, and out of prece,
At my gode leifure and in pece,
Till fomwhat I recomfort were
Of the travill and the grete fere
That I endurid had before,
This was my thought withoutin more;
And as a wight witleffe and faint,
Without more in a chambir paint
Full of ftories old and divers,
More than I can as now reherſe,
Unto a bed full fobirly,
So as I mightin, full fouthly,
Pace aftir other, and nothing faid,
Till at the laft downe I me laid,
And as my mind would give me leve
All that I dremid had that eve
Before that all I can reherſe,
Right as a child at fchole his verſe
Doth aftir that he thinketh to thrive,
Right fo did I for all my live,
I thought to have in renicmbraunce
Both the paine and eke the plefaunce,
The Dreme whole as it me befell,
Which was as ye herin me tell :
t
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
473
Thus in my thoughtis as I lay
'That happy or unhappy day,
Ne wot I not, fo have I blame,
Of the two which fhulde be the name,
Bufell me fo that there a thought
By proceffe new on flepe me brought,
And me governed ſo in a while
That ones againe within the yle
Me thought I was, where of the knight
And of the ladies I had fight,
And were affeniblid on a grene,
Bothe knight and lady with the quene,
At which affembly there was faid
How that they all content and paid
Werin wholly as in that thing
'That the knight there fhould be the king,
And they would all for fure witneffe
Yweddid be both more and leffe,
In remembraunce, withoutin more,
Thus they confent for evirmore,
And was concludid that the knight
Departin ſhould the famè night,
And forthwith there toke his voiage
To journey for his marriage,
And returnin with fuch an hoft
That weddid might be leſt and moſt :
This was concluded, written and feled,
That it ne might not be repeled
In no wife, but continue firme,
And all ſhould be within a terme,
Without more excufation,
Both feft and coronation.
This knight, which had thereof the charge,
Anon into a little barge
Ybrought was late againſt an eve,
Where of all he ytoke his leve,
Which barge was as a man'is thought
Aftir his pleſure to him brought,
The quene her felfe accuſtomed aye
In the fame barge oft for to play,
It nedith neithir maſt ne rothir,
I have not herd of fuch another,
No maiſtir for the govirnaunce,
He faylid by thought and plefaunce,
Withoutin labour eft and weft,
All ywas one calme or tempeft,
And I went with at his requeſt,
And was the firft praied to the feſt.
When he came into his countre,
And paffid had the wavy fe,
In an havin bothe depe and large
He left his rich and noble barge,
And to the court, fhortly to tell,
He went where he was wont to dwell,
And was recevid, as gode right,
As heire, and for a worthy knight,
With all the ftatis of the lond,
Which came anon at his firſt fond,
With glad fpiritis full of trouth,
Loth to do fault, or with a flouth
Attaint to be in any wife,
Ther richis was ther old ferviſe,
Which evir trew had ben yfond
Sith firſt inhabit was the lond;
And fo recevid thei ther king
That forgottin ywas no thing
That ought to be done ne might plefe,
Ne ther foveraine lord do efe;
And with them fo, fhortly to ſay,
As they of cuſtome had done aye,
For fevin yere paft was and more,
The father, the old, wife, and hore,
King of the land, ytoke his leve
Of all his barons on an eve,
And told them how his dayis paft
Were all, and comin was the laſt,
And hart'ily prayed 'hem to remember
His fonnè, which yong was and tender,
That borne ywas ther prince to be,
If he returne to that countre
Might by adventure or by grace
Within any fhorte time or ſpace,
And to be true and frendly aye,
As they to him had ben alway:
Thus he them prayd withoutin more,
And toke his leve for evirmore.
Knowin was how tendir in age
This yongè prince a grete viage
Uncouth and ftraunge, honours to feche,
Ytoke in hond with lityl fpeche,
Which was to ſekin a printes
That he defired more than riches,
For her grete name that flourid fo
That in that time there was no mo
Of her eſtate, ne fo well named,
For borne was none that er her blamed,
Of which princes fomwhat before
Here have I ſpoke, and ſome will more.
So thus befell as ye fhall here;
Unto ther lord they made fuch chere
That joy was there to be prefent
To fe ther troth and how they ment;
So very glad they were ech one
That them among there was no one
Whiche that defirid more riches
Than for ther lord fuch a princes
That they might pleſe, and that were faire,
For faft defirid they an heire,
And faid grete furety were ywis.
And as they were ſpekin of this
The prince himſelfin him avifed,
And in plaine English undiſguiſed
Them fhewid wholy his journey,
And of ther counſell can them prey,
And told how he enfurid was,
And how his day he might not paffe
Withoutin diffame and grete blame,
And to him for evir a fhame;
And of ther counfell and avife
There he prayith them once or twife,
And that they would within ten daies
Avife and ordaine him fuch waies,
So that it were no difplefaunce,
Ne to this relme oer grete greivaunce,
And that he might have to his feft
Sixty thouſand geftes at the left,
For his intent within fhort while
Was to returne unto this yle
f
I
474
CHAUCER'S
That he came fro, and kepe his day;
For nothing would he be away.
To counfaile tho the lords anon
Into a chambir everychone
Togithir went, them to deviſe
How they might beſt and in what wife
Purvey for their iord'is plefaunce,
And the reln'is continaunce
Of honor, which in it before
Had continuid evirmore :
So at the laſt they found the waies,
How that within the next ten daies
All might with paine and diligence
Be done, and caft what the difpence
Might draw, and, in conclufion,
Made for ech thing proviſion.
When this was done, wholly tofore
The prince the lordis all before
Come, and fhewid what they had done,
And how they couth by no refon
Findin that within the ten daies
He might departin by no waies,
But would be fiftene at the left...
Or he returne might to his feſt:
And fhewed him every refon why
It might not be fo haftily
As he defirid, ne his day..
He might not kepe by no way,
For divers caufis wondir grete;
Which when he herd in fuch an hete
He fell for forow, and was' ſeke,
Still in his bed whole that weke,
And nigh the tothir for the fhame,
And for the doubt and for the blame
That mightin on him be aret,
And oft upon his breſt he bet,
And faid, Alas! mine honour for aye
Have I here loft clenely this day;
Ded would I be; alas! my name
Shall aye be more henceforth in fhame,
And I dishonoured and repreved,
And nevir more fhall be beleved:
And made fwich forow, that in trouth
Him to behold it was grete routh;
And fo endured the dayes fiftene,
Till that the lords on an even
Him come and told they redy were,
And fhewid in few wordis there
How and what wife they had purvey'd
For his eſtate, and to him ſaid
That twenty thousand knights of name,
And fourty thouſand without blame,
All come of noble ligine,
Togidir in a compane,
Were lodgid on a river's fide,'
Him and his plefure there t'abide.
The prince tho for joy up arofe,
And where they lodgid were he goes
Withoutin more that fame night,.
And theſe his fuppir made to dight,
And with them bode till it was dey,
And forthwith to take his journey,
Leving the freight, holding the large,
Till he came to his noble barge:
+
DREA M É.
And when this prince, this luftie knight,
With his peple in armis bright
Was comin where he thought to pas,
And knew well none abiding was
Behind, but all were there prefent,
Forthwith anon all his intent
He told them there, and made his cries
Thorough his hoftè that day twife,
Commaunding every livis wight
There being prefent in his fight
To be the' morow on the rivage,
Where he begin would his viage.
The morow come, the cry was kept,
But few was there that night that flept,
But truffed and purveid for the morow,
For fault of fhips was all ther forrow,
For fave the barge and othir two.
Of fhippis ther faw I no mo:
Thus in ther doubtis as they ſtode,
Waxing the fe, comming the flode,
Was cried, To fhip goe every wight,
Then was but hie that hic him might;
And to the barge me thought echone
They went, without was left not one,
Ne horſe ne male, truffe ne baggage,
Salad ne ſpere, gardbrace ne page,
But was lodgid, and rome ynough;
At which fhipping me thought I lough,.
And gan to marvaile in my thought
How evir fuch a ſhip was wrought,
For what peple that can encrefe,
Ne ner fo thicke might be the prefe,.
But all had rome at ther will,
There was not one was lodgid ill;
For as I trowe my felfe the laſt
Was one, and lodgid by the maft,
And where I loked I faw fuch rome
As all were lodgid in a towne.
Forth goth the fhip, faid was the crede,
And on ther knees for ther gode fpede
Downe knelid every wight a while,'
And prayid faſt that to the ylei
They mightin comin in fafety,
The prince and all the company,
With worship and withoutin blame,
Of difclaundir of his gode name,
Of the promiſe he ſhould retourne,
Within the time he did fojourne,
In his londè biding his hoft,
This was ther prayir left and moſt :
To kepe the day it might not ben
That he' appointid had with the quene
To returnin withoutin flouth,
And fo affurid had his trouth,
For which default this prince, this knight,
During the time flept not a night,
Such was his wo and his difefe,
For doubt he ſhould the quene diſpleſe.
Forth goith the fhip with fuch ſpede
Right as the prince for his grete nedę
Defirin would after his thought,, :.
Till it unto the yle him brought,
Where all in haft upon the fand
He and his peple toke the land
1
1
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
475
I
With hertis glad and cherè light,
Wening to be in heven that night;
But or they paffid had a while,
Entring in towardis that yle,
All clad in blacke, with chere pitcous,
A lady which ner difpiteous
Had be in all her life tofore
With fory chere and hert to tore
Unto this prince where he gan ride
Ycome and faid, Abide, abide,
And have no haft, but faft retourne,
No refon is ye here fojourne,
For your untruth hath us difcried;
Wo worth the time we us allied
With you, that are ſo fone untrew;
Alas the day that we you knew!
Alas the time that ye were bore!
For all this lond by you is lore;
Accurfed be he you hidir brought!
For all our joy is turnd to nought;
Your acquaintance we may complaine,
Which is the caufe of all our painc.
Alas! Madame, quod tho this knight,
And with that from his horfe he light,
With colour pale and chekis lene,
Alas! what is this for to mene?
What have ye faid? why be ye wroth?
You to difplefe I would be loth :
Knowe ye not full well the promeffe
Which I made have to your princeffe,
Which to perfourme is mine intent,
So mote I fpede as I have ment,
And as I am her very trew,
Withoutin change or thoughtis new,
And al fo fully her fervand
As creäture or man livand
May be to lady or princeffe,
For the mine heven and whole richeffe
Is, and the lady of mine hele,
My worldis joy and all my wele.
What may this be, whence coms this fpech?
Tell me, Madame, I you befech,
For fith the firft of my living
Was I fo ferefull of nothing
As I am now to here you fpeke,
For doubt I fele mine hert to breke:
Say on, Madame, tell me your will;
The remnaunt is it gode or ill?
Alas (quod fhe) that ye were bore!
For for your love this land is lore;
The quene is ded, and that is ruth,
For forow of your gret untruth:
Of two partes of the lufty rout
Of ladies that were there about,
That wont werin to talk and play,
Now are thei ded and clenc away,
And undir earth tane lodging newe;
Alas that er ye were untrew!
For when the time ye fet was paſt
The quene toke counfaile fone in haft
What was to doe, and faid Grete blame.
Your acquaintaunce caufe would and ſhame,
And the ladies of ther ayife
Prayid, for nęde was to be wife,
In efchewing talis and fongs,.
That by them makin would ill tongs,
And fey they were lightly conqueft,
And prayid to a porè feſt,.
And fouly had ther worship weved,
When fo unwifely they conceived
Ther richè trefour and ther hele,
Ther famous name and ther wele
To put in fuch an avinture,
Of which the fclaundir eveir dure"
Was like, without helpe of appele,
Wherefore they nede had of counfele,
For every wight of them would fay,
Ther clofid yle an opin way
Was become to every wight,:
And well apprevid by a knight,
Which he, alas! without payfaunce
Had fone achevid th' obeiſance :
All this was moved at counfell thrife,
And was concludid daily twife,
That bet was die withoutin blame
'T'han lofe the riches of ther name;
Wherefore the deth'is acquaintance
They chefe, and left have ther pleſaunce,
For doubt to livin as repreved,
bu
די
1
In that they you fo fone beleved, :
And made ther othes with one accord,
That ete ne drinke, ne fpeke o word,
They fhould nevir, but er weping:
Bide in a place without parting,
And uſe ther dayis in penaunce,
Without defire of allegeaunce,
Of which the truth anon con preve;
For why? the quene forthwith her leve
Toke at them all that were prefent,
Of her defauts fully repent.
And dyid there withoutin more,
Thus are we loft for evirmore;
What should I more hereof reherfe?.
Comin within, come fe her herſe
Where ye fhall fe the piteous fight
That er yet was fhewin to knight,
For ye fhall fein ladies ftond
Ech with a grete rod in her hond,
Yclad in black with viſage white,
Redy ech othir for to fmite;
If any be that will not wepe,
Or who that makes counte'nance to flepe,
They be fo bet, that all fo blew
They be as cloth that died is new,
Such is ther parfite repentance,
And thus they kepe ther ordinance,
And will do evir to the deth,
While them enduris any breth.
This knight tho in his armis twaine
This lady toke, and gan her faine,
Alas my birth wo worth my life!
And even with that he drew a knife,
And thorough gown, doublet, and fhert,
He made the blode come from his hert,
And fet him doune upon the grene, .⠀
And full repent clofid his ene,
And fave that ones he drew his, breth
Without more thus he toke his deth;
་
t
476
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
For whichè caufe the lufty hoſt,
Which in a battaile on the cost
At once for forrow fuch a cry
Gan rere throw the company,
That to the heven herd was the fowne,
And undir th' erth als fer adowne,
'That wilde beftis for the fere
So fodainly afrayid were,
That for the doubt while they might dure
They ran, as of their lives unfure.
From the wodis unto the plaine,
And from valleys the high mountaine
They fought, and ran as beftis blind
That clene forgottin had ther kind.
This wo not cefed, to counfaile went
Thefe lordis, and for that lady fent,
And of avife what was to done
They her befought fhe fay would fonc.
Weping full fore, all clad in blake,
This lady foftly to them fpake,
And faid, My Lordis, by my trouth
This mifchefe it is of your flouth,
And if ye had that judge would right.
A prince that were a very knight,
Ye that ben of eftate echone
Die for his fault fhould one and one;
And if he hold had the promeſſe,
And done that longes to gentilneffe,
And fulfilled the princes beheft,
This haftie farme had ben a feft,
And now is unrecoverable,
And us a flaundir aye durable,
Wherefore I fay, as of counfaile
In me is none that may availe,
But if ye lift for remembraunce
Purvey and make fuch ordinaunce
That the quene whiche that was fo meke,
With all her women dede or fcke,
Might in
your land a chappill have,
With fome remembraunce of her grave,
Shewing her end with the pity
In fome notable old city,
And nigh unto an highè way,
Where every wight might for her pray,
And for all hers that have been trew:
And even with that ſhe changid hew,
And twife wifhid after the deth,
And fight, and thus paffid her breth.
Then faid the lordis of the hoſt,
And fo concludid left and moſt,
That they would in houfis of thacke
'Ther livis lede, and were but blacke,
And forfake all ther plefaunces,
And turne all joy to penaunces,
And bere the ded prince to the barge,
And namid them should have the charge;
And to the herfe where lay the quene
The remnaunt went and dounc on kncne,
Holding ther honds, on high con crie,
Mercy, mercy! evêrich thrie,
And curfed the time that evir fouth
Should have foche naftirdome of trouth,
And to the barge a longè mile
They bare her forth, and in a while
Allè the ladies one and one
By companies were brought echone,
And paft the fe and toke the land,
And in new herfis on a fand,
Put and brought werin all anon
Unto a city cloſed with ſtone,
Where it yhad ben ufid aye
The kingis of the land to lay,
After they raignid in honours,
And writ was which were conquerours,
In an abbey of nunnis blake,
Which accuftomid were to wake,
And of ufage rife ech a night
To pray for every livis wight:
And fo befell, as is the guife,
Ordeint and faid was the fervife
Of the prince and eke of the quene
So devoutly as might yben,
And aftir that about the herfes
Full many orifons and verfes
Withoutin note ful hertily
Said were, and that full ſoftily
That all the night till it was day
The peple in the church con pray
Unto the holy Trinitie.
Of thofe foulis to have pitic.
And when the night ypaſt and ronne
Was, and the newè day begonne,
The yong morow with rayis red,
Which from the fonne oer all con fpred,
Atcmpirid clere was and faire,
And made a tyme of wholſome aire,
Befell a wondir cafe and ftrange
Among the peple, and gan change
Sone the word and every wo
Unto a joy, and ſome to two;
A bird all fedrid blew and grene,
With bright rayis like gold betwene,
As fmall thred ovir every joynt,
All full of colour ſtrange and coint,
Uncouth, and wondirfull to fight,
Upon the quen'is herfe con light,
And fong full low and foftily
Thre fongis in her harmony,
Unlettid of every wight,
Til at the laſt an agid knight,
Which femid a man in grete thought,
Like as he fet all thing at nought,
With viſage and ein al forwept,
And pale, as a man long unflept;
By the herfis as he yftode
With hafty hondling of his hode
Unto a prince that by him paſt
Ymade the bridde fomwhat agaft,
Wherefore the rofe and left her fong,
And departed from us among,
And fpred her wingis for to paffe
By the place where he entrid was,
And in his haft, fhortly to tell,
Him hurt, that backeward downe he fell
From a window richly ypcint
With lives of many divers feint,
And bet his wingis and bled faft,
And of the hurt thus died and paſt,
CHAUCER'S
477
DREAME.
And lay there well an hour and more,
'Till at the laft of briddes a ſcore
Come and affemblid at the place
Where the window ybrokin was,
And made fwiche wamentacioun
That pity was to here the foun,
And the warblis of ther throtis
And the complaint of ther notis,
Which from joy clene ywas reverſed;
And of them one the glas fone perfed,
And in his boke of colours nine
An herbe he brought floureleffe, all grene,
All full of ſmall levis and plaine,
Swart, and long with many a vaine,
And where his fellow lay this dede
This herbe he down laid by his hede,
And dreffid it full foftily,
;
And hong his hed and ftode thereby,
Which herb in leffe than half an houre
Gan oer all knit, and aftir floure
Full out, and wexin ripe the fede,
And right as one anothir fede
Would, in his beke he toke the graine,
And in his fellowes beke certaine
It put, and thus within the third
Up ftode and prunid him the bird
Which ded had be in all our fight,
And both togithir forth ther flight
Toke, finging from us, and ther leve
Was none difturb 'hem would ne greve.
And when they partid were and gone
Th' abbeffe the fedis fone echone
Gathirid had, and in her hand
The herbe fhe toke, well avifand
The lefe, the fede, the ſtalke, the floure,
And faid it had a gode favour,
And was no common herb to find,
And well approved of uncouth kind,
And than othir more vertuouſe
Who ſo have it might for to uſe
In his nede flowre, or lefe, or graine,
Of ther hele might ybe certaine;
And laid it downe upon the herſe
Where lay the quene, and reherfe
gan
Echone to' othir that they had fene
And taling thus the fede wex grene,
And on the drie herfe gan to fpring,
Which me thought was a wondrous thing,
And aftir that floure and new fede,
Of which the peple all toke hede,
And faid it was fome grete miracle,
Or medicine fine more than triacle,
And were well done there to aſſay
If it might efe in any way
The corfis, which with torchè light
They wakid had there all that night :
Sone did the lordis their confent,
And all the peple' thereto content
With cfie words and litil fare,
And made the quen’is vifage bare,
Which fhewid was to all about,
Wherefore in fwone fell whole the rout,
And were fo fory moſt and left
That long of weping they not celt,
For of ther lord the remembraunce
Unto them was ſuch difplefaunce
That for to live they called a paine,
So were they very true and plaine.
And after this the gode abbeffe
Of the graine gan to chefe and dreffe
Thre, with her fingirs clene and fmale,
And in the quen'is mouth by tale
One aftir othir efily
She put 'hent and full conningly,
Which fhewid fonè ſuch vertue
That previd was the medi'cine true,
For with a fmiling countinaunce
The quene uprofe, and of ufaunce,
As fhe was wont to every wight,
She made gode chere, for whiche fight
The peple kneling on the ftones
Thought they in beven were foule and bones ;
And to the prince where he ylay
They went to make the fame affay,
And when the quene it undirftode,
And how the medicine was gode,
She preyid fhe might have the graines
To relevin him from the paines
Which she and he had both endured,
And to him went and fo him cured,
That ftreight within a litil ſpace
Lufty and freſhe on live he was,
And in gode hele, and whole of ſpech,
And lough, and faid, Gramercy, lech!
For which the joy throughout the town
So gret was that the bellis fown
Afraied the peple a journay
About the citie every way,
And come and aſkid cauſe and why
They rongin were fo ftatily?
And aftir that the quene th' abbeffe,
Made diligence or they would ceffe,
Such that of ladies fone a rout
Sewing the quene was all about,
And called by name echone and told,
Was none forgettin young ne old;
There mightin men fe joyis new
When the medicine fine and trew
Thus reftorid had every wight,
So well the quenê as the knight,
Unto full perfit joy and hele,
That fleting they were in fuch wele
As folke that wouldin in no wife
Defire more parfit paradife.
And thus when paffed was the forow,
With mikil joye fone on the morow
The king, the quene, and every lord,
With all the ladies, by' one accord
Helde a generall affembly:
Gret cry was made through the country.
The which aftir as ther intent
Was turnid to a parliament,
Where was ordainid and aviſed
Every thing and wel devifed
That plefiu might to moft and left,
And there concludid was the feft
Within the yle for to behold
With full confent of young and old,
༨
{
478
DREAME.
CHAUCER'S
All in the fame wife as before,
As thing fhould be withoutin more,
And thei fhippid and thithir went,
And into ftraungè relmis fent,
To kingis, quenes, and ducheffes,
To divers princes and princeffes,
Of ther linage, and can them pray
That it might like them at that day
Of mariage, for ther difport,
Come ſe the yle and them diſport,
Where ſhould be jouſtis and turnaies,
And armis done in othir waies,
Signifying oer all the day
Aftir Aprilis within May,
And was avifed that ladies tweine,
Of gode eftate and well befeine,
With certaine knightis and fquiers,
And of the quen'is officers,
In mannir of an embaffade,
With certain lettirs clofed and made,
Should take the barge and depart,
And feke my lady every part
Till they her found for any thing
Both chargid have the quene and king,
And as ther lady and maiſtres
Her to befeke of gentilnes
At the day there for to yben,
And oft her recommaund the quene,
And prayis for all loves to haft,
For but the come all woll be waft,
And the feft but a buſineſſe
Withoutin joy or luftineffe,
And toke them tokins, and gode fpede
Praid God fend 'hem aftir ther nede.
Forth went the ladies and the knights,
And were out fourtene daies and nights,
And brought my lady in ther barge,
And had well fped and done ther charge;
Whereof the quene fo herti'ly glad
Was, that in foth fuch joy fhe had
When that the fhip approchid lond
That the my lady on the fond
Met, and in armis fo conftraine,
That wondir was behold them twaine,
Which to my dome during twelve houres
Neithir for hete ne watry fhoures
Departid not no company
Saving themfelfe, but none them by,
But gave them layfour at ther efe
To rcherfin joy and diſeſe
Aftir the plefure and couragis
Of ther young and tendir agis;
And aftir with many a knight
;
Brought thei were where as for that night
They partid not, for ro plefaunce
Content was hert and countinaunce
Both of the quene and my maiftreffe,
This was that night ther bufineffe
And on the morow with huge rows
This prince of lordis him about
Come, and unto my lady faid,
Of her comming glad and well paid
He was, and full right conningly
Her thankid and full hertily,
And lough and ſmiled, and faid, Ywis
That was in doubt in fafety is;
And commaundid do diligence,
And fpare for neithir gold ne fpence,
But make redy, for on the morow
Yweddid, with Saint John to borow,
He would ybe withoutin more,
And let them wite this lefe and more.
The morow come, and the fervice
Of mariage in fuch a wife
Yfaid was, that with more honour
Was nevir prince ne conquerour
Ywedde, ne with fuch company
Of gentilneffe in chivalry,
Ne of ladies fo gretè routs,
Ne fo befeen as all abouts
They werin there, I certifie
You on my life, withoutin lie.
And the felt hold was in tentis,
As to tell you mine entent is,
In a rome in a largè plaine,
Undir a wode in a champaine,
Betwixt a rivir and a well,
Where nevir had abbay ne fell
Yben, ne kirke, houſe, ne village,
In time of any man'is age,
And durid thre moniths the feft
In one eftate, and nevir ceſt
From erly rifing of the fonne
Till the day fpent was and yronne
In jufting, dauncing, luftineffe,
And all that fowned to gentilneffe.
And as me thought the fecond morow;
Whan endid was all old forow,
And in furety every wight
Had with his lady flept a night,
The prince, the quene, and all the reſt,
Unto my lady made requeſt,
And her befought oftin and praied
To mewardes to be well apaied,
And confidir mine oldè trouth,
And on my painis havin routh,
And me accept to her ferviſe
In fuch forntè and in fuch wife
That we both mightin be as one;
Thus praied the quene and everichone g
And for there fhould ne be no nay
They ſtintin juſting all a day
To pray my lady, and requere
To be content and out of fere,
And with gode hert make frendly chere,'
And faid it was a happy yere ;
At which the failed, and faid, Ywis
I trow well he my fervaunt is,
And would my welfare, as I triſt,
So would I his, and would he wiſt
How and I knewd that his trouth
Continue would withoutin flouth,
And be fuch as ye here report,
Reftraining both courage and fport,
I couth confent at your requeſt
To be ynamid of your felt,
And doin aftir your ufaunce
In obeying of your pleſaunce :
4
CHAUCER'S DREAME.
479
At your requeſt this I confent,
To plefin you in your entent,
And eke the foveraine above,
Commandid hath me for to love,
And before othir him prefer,
Againſt which prince may be no wer,
For his powir ovir all raigneth,
That othir would for nought him paineth;
And fith his will and yours is one
Contrary in me fhall be none:
Tho (as me thoughtin) the promeiſe
Of marriage before the meſe
Defirid was of every wight
To be madin the fame night,
To put away all manir doubts
Of every wight thereabouts ;
And fo was do: and on the morow,
When every thought and every forrow
Diflodgid was out of mine hert,
With every wo and every fmert,
Unto a tent prince and princes
Me thought brought me and my maiſtres,
And faid we werin at full age
There to conclude our marriage,
With ladies, knightis, and ſquiers,
And a gret hoft of minifters,
With inftruments and founes diverfe,
That long werin here to reherſe;
Which tent was church parochiall,
Ordaint was in eſpeciall
For the feſt and for the facre,
Where archbishop and archdiacre
Yongin full out the fervife
Aftir the custome and the guife
And holie church'is ordinaunce:
And aftir that to dine and daunce
Brought were we, and to divers plaies,
And for our fpede ech wight praies,
And merry was both moſt and left,
And faid amendid was the feſt,
And were right glad lady and lord
Of the marriage and th' accord,
And wifhid us hert'is plefaunce,
In joy and hele continuaunce,
And to the minftrils made requeſt
That in encrefing of the feſt
They wouldin touchin ther cordis,
And with ſome new joyeux accordis
Ymove the peple to gladneffe,
And praidin of all gentilneffe
Ech to painin them for the day
To thew his cunning and his play :
"Tho began fownis mervelous,
Enrunid with accords joyous,
Round about and in all the tents,
With thouſandis of inftruments,
That every wight to daunce them pained;
To be merry was none that fayned;
Which fowne me troublid in my flepe,
That fro my bed anone I lepe,
Wening to have be at the feft,
But when I woke all was yfeft,
For there n'as lady ne creture,
Save on the wals old portraiteur,
Of horfmen, haukis, and houndis,
And hurt dere all full of woundis,
Some like bittin, fome hurt with fhot,
And as my dreme femed that was not.
And when I wake and knew the trouth,
And ye had feen, of very routh
I trow ye would have wept a weke,
For nevir man yet halfe fo feke
Iwent efcapid with the life,
And was for fault that fword ne knife
I find ne might my life t' abridge,
Ne thing that kervid ne had edge,
Wherewith I might my wofull pains
Have voidid with bleding of vains.
Lo, here my bliffe! lo, here my paine!
Which to my lady' I do complaine,
And grace and mercy her requere
To end my wo and bufie fere,
And me accept to her fervife,
And to her fervice in fuch wife,
That of my Dremè the fubftaunce
Might turnin once to cognilaunce,
And cognifaunce to very preve,
By full confent and by gode leve;
Or cls withoutin more I pray
That this fame night or it be day
I mote unto my Dreme retourne,
And fleping fo forthe aie fojourne
Aboutin the yle of plefaunce
Undir my ladie's obeifaunce,
In her fervice, and in fuch wife
As it plefe her may to deviſe,
And grace onis to be accept
Like as I dremid when I flept,
And dure a thoufand yere and ten
In her gode will. Amen, Amen!
L'ENVOY.
Fairift of faire, and godelyift on live!
All my fecre to you I plaine and fhrive,
Requiring grace, and of my fore complaint
To be be helid or martirid as a faint,
For by my trouth I fwere, and by this boke,
Ye both hele and fle me with a loke.
may
Go forth, mine ownè true hert innocent,
And with humbleneffe do thine obfervaunce,
And to thy lady on thy knees prefent
Thy fervice new, and think how grete plefaunce
It is to live undir the obeifaunce
Of her which that may with her lokis foft
Give the the bliffe that thou deſiriſt oft.
Be diligent, awake, obey, and drede,
And be not wild of thy countinaunce,
But mèke and glad, and thy nature yfede
To do ech thing that may her doe plefaunce;
When thou shalt flepe have aie in remembraunce
Th' image of her which may with lokis foft
Give the the bliffe that thou defiriſt oft.
And if fo be that thou her name find
Writtin in boke, or ellis upon wall,
Loke that thou do, as fervauht true and kind,
Thine obeifaunce as he were therewithall:
Fayning in love is breding of a fall
From the grace of her whofe lokis foft
May give the bliffe that thou defirift oft.
Ye which that this ballade yredin fhall
I pray you that you kepe you fro the fall,
1
480
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
!
THE DREME OF CHAUCER*.
I HAVE grete wonder, by this light,
How that I lyve, for day ne night
I maye not flepin welny nought;
I have fo many' an ydle thought,
Purely for the defaute of flepe,
That by my trouth I take no kepe
Of nothing howe it cometh or gothe,
Ne me n'ys nothing lefe nor lothe;
Al is iliche gode to me
Joye or forowe where ſo it be,
For I have felinge in nothing,
But as it were a mafid thing
Al day in pointe to fall adoun,
For forowful ymaginacioun
Is alway wholy in my minde.
And well ye wote that againfte kinde
It were to livin in this wife,
For nature ne wolde not fuffife
Unto none erthy creäture
Not longè tyme to endure
Withoutin flepe and be in forowe,
And I ne may ne night ne morowe
Slepin, and this melançolye
And drede I havin for to die;
Defaute of flepe add hevineffe
Hath flaine my fpirite of quickneſſe,
That I have loft al luftihed;
Soche fantaſies ben in mine hed
So I n'ot what is beft to do:
But men might aſkin me whi fo
I
may not flepe, and what me is?
But nathèles who afkith thys
Lefeth his afkyng trewily;
My felvin can not telling why
The fothe, but trewly, as I gcffe,
I holde it be a fikèneffe
* By the perfon of a mourning knight fitting under
an oak, is meant John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster,
greatly lamenting the deth of one whom he entirely lo-
ved, fuppofed to be Blanch the Dutchcfs. Urry.
That I have fuffrid this eyght yere,
And yet my bote is ner the nere,
For there is phificien but one
That may me hele; but that is done
Paffin we ovir until eſte;
That wil not be mote nedes be lefte 3
Our first matir is gode to kepe.
So whan fawe I might not ſlepe
Til now of late this othir night
Upon my bedde I fate upright,
And bade one rechtn me a boke,
A romauncè and it me toke
To rede, and drive the night away;
For why? me thought it betir play
Than play either at cheffe or tables.
And in this boke were writtin fables
That clerkis had in olde time
And other poetes put in rhime
To rede, and for to be in minde,
While men lovid the lawe of kinde:
This boke ne fpake but of foche thinges
Of quenis livis and of kinges,
And many othir thingis fmale;
Amonge al this I fond a tale
Whiche that me thought a wondir thing.
This was the tale. There was a king
That hight Ceix, and had a wife
The best that mightin berin lyfe,
And this quenè hight Alcyonc ;
So it befil thereaftir fone
This king wol wendin ovir fe :
To tellin fhortly whan that he
Was in the fe thus in this wife
Soche a tempeft began to ryfe
That brake ther maſte and made it fal,
And clefte ther fhip and dreint 'hem al,
That nevir was founde, as it telles,
Ne borde ne man, ne nothing elles:
Right thus this king ylofte his life.
Nowe for to fpekin of his wife.
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
481
This ladie that was lefte at home.
Hath wondir that the kinge ne comé
Home, for it was a longè terme;
Anone her herte began to yerne,
And for that her thought evirmo
It was not wele, her thoughtin fo,
She longid fo aftir the king,
That certes it were a pitous thing
To tell her hertely forowful lyfe
Whiche that fhe had this noble wife,
For him the lovid aldirbeſt ;
Anon fhe fent both eft and weft
To ſeke him but they founde him nought.
Alas (quod fhe) that I was wrought!
And where my lorde my love be ded
Certis I n'yl nevir etc bred,
I make a vowe to my God here,
But I mowe of my lorde here.
Soch forowe this lady to her toke,
That trewly I, that made this boke,
Yhad foche pite and foche routhe
To rede her forowe, that by my trouthe
1 farid the worfe al the morowe
Aftir to thinkin on her forowe.
So whan that the coude here no worde
That no man myghtin finde her lorde
Ful ofte fhe wouned, and faide Alas!
For forow ful nigh wode fhe was,
Ne fhe ne coude no rede but one,
But downe on knees fhe fate anone
And wept, that pitie was to here.
A mercy, my fwete lady dere!
!
Quod fhe to Juno, her goddeſſe,
Helpith me out of this diftreffe,
And yeve me grace my lorde to fe
Sone, or to wete where fo he be,
Or howe he fareth, or in what wife,
And I fhal make you facrifice,
And wholly yours become 1 fhal,
With gode wil, body, herte, and al;
And but thou wolte this, lady fwete
Sendin me grace to ſlepe, and mete
In my flepe fome certaine fwevin
Where through that I may knowe evin
Whethir my lorde he quicke or ded
;
With that worde fhe hinge down the hed,
And fel in a fwonne as colde as ftone
Her women caught her up anone,
And broughtin her in bed al naked,
And the for wepid and forwaked
Was wery, and thus the ded flepe
Yfel on her or fhe toke kepe,
Through Juno that had herde her bone,
That madin her to flepè fone;
For as fhe praide right fo was don
In dede, for Juno right anon
Ycallid thus her meffangere
'To do' her eraunde, and he come nere:
Whan he was come fhe bad him thus;
Go bet (quod Juno) to Morpheus,
Thou knoweft him wel, the god of Slepe;
Nowe understande wel, and take kepe,
Say thus on my behalfe, that he
Go faft into the gretè fe,
VOL. I.
And bid him that on alle thinge
He take up Ceix body the kinge,
That lieth ful pale and nothinge rody;
Byd him crepin into the body,
And do it gone to Alcyone
The quene, there fhe lyith alone,
And fhewe her ſhortely' it is no nay
Howe it was dreint this othir day,
And do the body (peke right fo
Right as it was wonnid to do
The whilis that it was alyve:
Goith nowe faft, and hye the blive.
This meffanger toke leve and went
Upon his way, and nevre' he ſtente
Tyl he came to the darke valey
That ftante betwixt in rokis twey,
There nevir yet grewe corne ne gras,
Ne tre, ne nothing that ought was,
Ne beit ne man, ne nothing elles,
Save that there werin a fewe welles
Came renning fro the clyffes adowne
Thar made a dedly flepinge ſowne,
And rennin downe right by a cave
That was undir a rocke ygrave
Amyd the valey wondir depe
There as theſe goddis lay ailepe,
Morpheus and Eclympaiteyre,
That was the god of ŝlep'is heire,
That lepte and did none othir werke.
This cave ywas alſo as derke
As hel pitte; ovir all aboute
They had gede leyfire for to route
To vye who mightin flepè beſt;
Some hinge ther chinne upon ther breft,
And flepte upright ther hed yhed,
And fome lay nakid in ther bed,
And fleptin whiles their dayis lift.
This meffaunger come renning faſt,
And cried, Ho, ho! awake anone !
It was for naught; there herde him none;
Awake, (quod he) who lyith there?
And blewe his horne right in ther ere,
And cried Awakith wondir hie.
This god of Slepe with his one eye
Caft up, and afked Who clepith there?
It am I, (quod this meffangere)
Juno bade that thou ſhouldift gone,
And toldin him what he ſhould done
As I have tolde you here before,
It is no nede reherfe it more,
And wente his way whan he had faide.
Anone this god of Slepe abraide
Out of his flepe and gan to go,
And did as he had bidde him do ;
He toke up the ded body fone,
And bare it forthe to Alcyone
His wife, the quene, there as fhe lay,
Right even a quartir before day,
And ftode right at her bedd'is fete,
And callid her right as fhe hete
By name, and faid; My fwete wife !
Awake, let be your forowful lyfe,
For in your forow there lyth no rede,
For certes, fwete love! I am but dede ;
Hh
*
482
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
Ye fhall me ner on lyve yfe:
But, gode fwete herte! I praye that ye
Bury my body; foche a tide
Ye mowe it finde the fe befide:
And farewel fwete! my world’is bliffe !
I pray that God
that God your forowe lyffe:
To lytel while our bliffe ylafteth.
With that her eyin up fhe cafteth,
And fawe naught. Alas! for forowe
She died within the thirde morowe.
But what the faid more in that fwowe
I may nat tellin you as nowe;
It were to longè for to dwel:
My firit matere 1 wil you tel
Wherfore I have ytolde this thinge
Of Alcyone and Cix the kinge.
For this moche dare I fayin well,
I had be dolvin everidel,
And ded, right through defaute of ſlepe,
YfI ne had red and take kepe
Of this ilke tale next before,
And I wil tellin you wherfore,
For I ne might for bote ne bale
Slepin or I had redde this tale
Of this ydreinte Ceix the kinge,
And of the goddis of Slepinge,
Whan I had red this tale wele,
And ovirloked it everidele,
Me thought wondir if it were fo,
For I had ner herde ſpeke or the
Of no goddis that couldin make
Men for to flepe ne for to wake,
And I ne knewe ner God but one,
And in my game I faid anone,
(And yet me lyft right il to pley)
Rather than that I fhuldin dey
Thorough defaute of flepinge thus
1 woldin gyve thilke Morpheus,
Or that goddeffe hight Dame Juno,
Of fome wight els, I ne rought who,
To make me flepe and have fome reft
I will give him the althir beft
Vefte that er he abode his lyve
And hereonwarde right now as blyve,
If he woll make me flepe a lite,
Of downe of purè dovis white
I wol yeve hira a fethir bed
Rayid with gold, and right wel cled
In fine blacke fattin doutremere,
And many' a pilowe', and every bere
Of clothe of Raines to flepe on ſofte,
Him thare not nede to turnin ofte;
And I wol yeve him al that falles
To his chambre'and to his halles,
I wol do painte 'hem with pure golde,
And tapite 'hem ful niany folde;
Of one fute this fhal he yhave,
If that I wife where were his cave,
If he can make me flepin fonc,
As did the goddeſic Quene Alcyone;
And thus this ylke god Morpheus
May winnin of me mo fees thus
Than er he wanne; and to Juno
That 'is his goddeffe I fhall fo do;
I trowe that the fhal holde her paide.
I had unneth that worde ifaide,
Right thus as I have toldin you,
Than fodeinly, I ne wifte howe,
Soche a lufte anone me ytoke
To flepe, that right upon my boke
1 fel aflepe, and therwith even
Me mette fo inly foche a fweven,
So wondirfull, that nevir yet
I trowe no man ne had the wit
To connin wel my fwevin rede,
No, nought Jofeph withoutin drede
Of Egypt, he which that rad fo
The king'is metinge Pharao,
No more than coude the lefte of us,
Ne nat ſcarfly Macrobeus,
He that wrote al the' avifion
Whiche that he met Kinge Scipion,
'The noble man, the Affrican,
Soche mervaillis fortunid than
I trowe, arede my dremis even;
Lo! thus it was, this was my fweven:
Me thoughtin thus, that it was Maye,
And in the dawning there I lay
Me met thus in my bed al naked,
And lokid forthe, for I was waked
With fmale foulis a gret hepe,
That had afraied me' out of my flepe
Through noiſe and fwetneffe of ther fonge;
And as me met they fate amonge
Upon my chambre rofe without,
Upon the tyles ovre' al about,
And evèriche fonge in his wife
The mofte fwete and folempne ferviſe
By note that evir man I trowe
Had herde, for fome of 'hem fonge lowe,
Some high, and al of one accorde :
To tellin fhortly, at o worde,
Was nevir herde fo fwete a ſteven,
But it had be a thinge of heven,
So meric' a fowne, fo fwete entunes,
That certis for the towne of Tewnes
I n'olde but I had herde 'hem finge,
For al my chambre gan to ringe
Through finging of ther harmony,
For inftrument nor melody
Was no where herde yet halfe fo fwete,
Nor of acorde halfe fo mete,
For there was none of 'hem that fained
To finge, for eche of 'hem him pained
To finde put many crafty notes,
They ne yfparid nat ther throtes;
And, foth to faine, my chambre was
Ful wel depaintid, and with glas
Were al the windowes wel yglafed
Ful clere, and nat an hole ycrafed,
That to beholde it was grete joy,
For wholly al the ftory' of Troy
Was in the glaifinge ywrought thus,
Of Hector and Kinge Priamus,
Achilles and Kinge Lamedon,
And eke Medea and Jaſon,
Of Paris, Heleine and Lavine;
And all the walles with colours fine
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
483
Were paintid, bothè texte and gloſe,
And al The Romaunte of the Rofe :
My wyndowes werin fhet ech one,
And through the glaffe the funne yfhone
Upon my bed with bright bemis,
With many glad gildy ftremis;
And eke the welkin was fo faire,
Blewe, bright, and clere, ywas the ayre,
And ful attempre', in fothe it was,
For neithir colde ne hote it n'as,
Ne' in al the welkin was no clowde.
And as I lay thus, wondir lowde
Me thought I herde an huntir blowe
T'affay his gret horne, and to kuowe
Whethre' it was clere or horſe of fowne;
And I herde goynge up and downe
Men, horfis, houndes, and othir thinge,
And al men fpekin of huntinge,
How they wolde fle the harte with ftrength,
And how the harte had upon length
So moche enboſed, I n'ot nowe what.
Anon right whan I herdin that,
How that they wolde on huntinge gone,
I was right glad, and up anone
I toke my horſe, and forth I wente
Out of chambre; I nevir ftente
Tyl I come to the felde without,
There ovirtake I a grete rout
Of huntirs and of forefters,
And many relaies and limers,
That hied 'hem to the foreft faſt,
And I with 'hem: fo at the laft
I afkid one lad, a lymere,
Say, felowe, who fhal huntin here?
(Quod I) and he anſwered ayen,
Sir, the Emperour Octonyen,
(Quod he) and he is here faite by.
A goddes halfe, in gode tyme, (quod I)
Than go we faft, and gan to ride :
Whan we come to the foreft fide
Every man ydyd right fone
As unto huntinge fel to done.
The maiftir hunte anone fote hote
With his clere horne yblewe thremote
At the uncouplinge of his houndis.
Within a while the harte founde is:
I halowed and rechafid faft
A longe time and fo at the laſt
This harte roufid and ftale away
Fro al the houndes a privy way.
The houndes had ovirfhot him all,
And were on a defaulte yfal,
Ther with the hont full wondir faft
Yblewe a forloyn at the laſte :
I was go walkid fro my tre,
And as I went there came by me
A whelpe, that fawned me as I ftode,
That had folowed and coude no gode;
It came and crepte to me as lowe,
Right as it had me wele yknowe,
Helde down his hed and joyned his eres,
And laide al fmothe adowne his heres.
I wolde have caught it up anone ;
It fled, and was fro me ygone :
As I folowed and it forth went,
Downe by a floury grene it went
Ful thick of graffe ful fofte and (wete,
With flouris fele fare undir fete,
And lytil ufed, it femid thus,
For bothe Flora and Zephyrus,
They two that makin flouris growe,
Had made ther dwelling there I trowe,
For it was on for to beholde
As though the erthe there envye wolde
To be gayir than is the heven,
To havin mo flouris foche feven
As in the welkin ftertis be,
It had forget the povirte
Of Wintir, through his coldè morowes
That made it fuffre, and his forowes
All was forieten, and that was fene,
For all the wode was woxin grene,
Swetneffe of dewe had made it waxe.
It is no nede eke for to axe
Where there were many grene greves,
Or thicke of trees fo ful of leves,
And every tree ftode by him felve
Fro othir wel ten fote or twelve,
So grete trees and ſo huge of ſtrength,
Of fourty' or fifthy fadome length,
All clene without in bowe or fticke,
With croppis brode, and eke as thicke;
They werin not an ynche afonder,
That it was fhadde ovir all under;
And many' an hart and many' an hinde
Was both before me and behinde,
Of fawnis, fowirs, buckis, does,
Was ful the wodde, and many roes,
And many fquirrilis, that fete
Ful high upon the trees and ete,
And in ther manir madin feſtes:
Shortly, it was fo ful of beftes
That though Argus the noble countour
Yfate to rekin in his countour,
And rekin with his figures ten,
For by tho figures newe al ken
If they be crafty, reken and nombre,
And tel of every thing the nombre,
Yet fhulde he faile to rekin even
The wonders me inet in my fweren:
But forthe I romed right wondir fafe
Downe through the wode; fo at the lafte
I was ware of a man in blacke,
That fate, and had yturned his backe
Unto an ooke and huge tre;
Lord! tho thought I, who may that be?
What eylith him to fittin here?
And anon right I went him nere;
Than founde I fitte evin upright
A wondir faire welfaring knight,
By the manir me thoughtin fo
Of gode mokil, right yonge therto,
Of the age of foure-and-twenty yere,
Upon his berde but litil here,
And he was clothid al in blacke ;
I ftalkid even unto his backe;
And there I ftode as ftil as ought,
The fothe to fay he faw me nought;
II h ij
1
484
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
For why he hinge his hed adowne,
And with a dedly forowful fowne
He made of rime ten verfes or twelve
Of a complainte unto himfelve,
The mofte pite and the mof: routhe
That evir I herde, for by trouthe
It was grete wondir that Nature
Might fuffre any creature
To have foche forow' and he not ded;
Ful pitous pale, and nothing red,
He faid a lay, a manir fonge,
Withoutin note, withoutin fonge,
And was this, for ful wel I can
Reherfe it; right thus it began:
I have of forrowe fo grete wone,
That joye ne get I nevir none,
Nowe that I fe my lady bright,
Which I have loved with all my might,
Is fro me ded, and is agone,
And thus in forowe' lefte me alone:
Alas! o Dethe! what eylith the
That thou n'oldiſt have takin me
Whan that thou toke my lady fwete?
Of all godenes fhe had none mete,
That was fo faire, fo freſhe, ſo fre,
So gode, that men may wel yſe.
Whan he had made thus his complainte
His forowful hert gan faft fainte,
And his fpiritis wexin dede,
The blode was fledde for pure drede
Downe to his herte to makin him warme,
For wel it feled the herte had harme,
To wete eke why it was adradde,
By kinde, and for to make it gladde,
For it is membre principal
Of the body, and that made al
His hewe ychaunge, and wexin grene
And pale for there no blode is fene
Within no manir lymme of his.
Anon therwith, whan I fawe this,
He farde thus yvil there he fete,
1 went and ſtode right at his fete,
And grette him, but he fpake right nought
But arguid with his owne thought,
And in his witte difputid fafte
Bothe why and howe his lyfe might laſte,
Him thought his forowes were fo fmerte,
And lay fo colde upon his herte.
So through his forowe' and holy thought
Made him that he ne herde me nought,
For he had welnye loft his minde,
Though Pan, that men clepe god of Kinde
Were for his forowes ner fo wrothe.
But at the last, to faine right fothe,
He was ware of me howe I ftode
Before him and did of my hode,
And had gret him as I beft coude
Debonairly and nothing loude;
He faid, I pray the be not wrothe,
Lherde the not, to faine the fothe,
Ne I fawe the not, Sir, truely.
Ah, gode Sir! tho no force (quod I)
I am right fory' if I have ought
Diftroublid you out of your thought;
Forieve me if I have myffetake.
Yes, the amendes is light to make,
(Quod he) for there lithè non therto;
There is nothing miffaide nor do.
Lo howe godely yſpake this knight,
As it had be anothir wight,
And made it neithir tough ne queint!
And I fawe that, and gan me' aqueint
With him, and founde him fo tretable,
Right wondir fkylful and refo'nable,
As me thoughtin, for all his bale,
Anon right I gan finde a tale
To him, to loke where I might ought
Have more knowleging of his thought.
Sir, (quod I) this game is ydone,
I holde that this hart be ygone,
Theſe huntis can him no where fe.
I do no force therof, (quod he)
My thought is theron ner a dele.
By' our Lorde (quod I) I trowe you wele,
Right fo me thinkith by your chere;
But, Sir, o thing wollin ye here?
Me thinketh in gret forowe' I you ſe,
But certis, Sir, and if that ye
Wolde aught difcovir me your wo
I wolde, as wife God helpe me fo,
Amende it if I can or may,
Ye mowin prove it by aſſay,
For by my trouthe, to make you whole
I wol do al my powir whole;
And telleth me of your forowes fmert,
Faraunter it may efe your herte,
That femeth ful fyke undir your
With that he loked on me afide,
As who faithe nay, that n'yl not be.
Graunt mercy, my gode frende! (quod he)
fide.
I thanke the that thou waldiſt ſo,
But it may ner the rather be do;
No man ne may my forowe glade,
That maketh my hewe to fal and fade,
And hath myn underflanding lorne,
That me is wo that I was borne:
May nought make my forowis flyde,
Not all the rem'edies of Ovide,
Ne Orpheus, god of Melodie,
Ne Dadalus, with his playes flye,
Ne hele me may no phyficien,
Nought Hippocrates ne Galen;
Me' is wo that I live houris twelve;
But whofo wol affaye him felve
Whether his hert can have pite
Of any forowe let him fe me,
I wretche, that dethe hath made al naked
Of al the bliffe that er was maked,
I wrothe, the werfte of allè wightes,
That hate my dayis and my nightes;
My lyfe, my luftis, be me lothe,
For alle fare and I be wrothe;
The pure deth is fo ful my foe
That I wolde die it wil not foe,
For whan I folowe' it it wil flye,
I wold have him it n'il not me;
And this is paine withoutin rede,
Alway dyinge and be not dede,
1
5
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
485
That Sifyphus that lyeth in hel
Nay may not of more forowe tel;
And who fo wifte al, by my trouthe,
Al my forowe, but he hadde routhe
And pyte of my forowes fmerte
That man yhath a fendely herte,
For whofo feeth me firft on morowe
May fayne that he hath met with Sorowe,
For I am Sorowe', and Sorowe' is I,
Alas! and I wyl tel the why,
My forowe' is tournid to playnyng,
And al my laughtir to weping,
My glad thoughtis to hevineffe,
In travaile is myn ydleneſſe,
And eke my reft, my wele is wo,
My gode is harme, and evirmo
In wrathe is tournid my playning,
And my delite in forowing,
Myn hele is turned into fickeneffe,
In drede is al my fyckerneffe,
To derke is turnid al my lyght,
My wytte is foly, my day night,
My love is hate, my flepe wakyng,
My mirth and melis is fafting,
My countinaunce is nicete,
And al abawed where fo I be,
My pece is pleding, and in werre,
Alas, howe might I fare in werre!
My boldeneffe is turnid to fhame,
For falſe Fortune hath played a game
At cheffe with me, alas the while!
The traytereffe falfe and ful of gyle,
That al behoteth and nothing halte,
She gothe upright and yet the halte,
That baggith foule and lokith fayre,
The difpitous and debonaire,
That fcornith many a creture;
An ydole of falſe purtraiture
Is fhe, for fhe wol ſonè wryen;
She is the monftri's hed ywryen,
As filthe, ovir yftrowed with floures,
Her mofte worthip, and her floures,
To lyen, for that is her nature,
Withoutin faith, lawe, or mefure,
She falſe is, and evir laughing
With one eye, and that othir weping,
That is brought up fhe fet al downe;
I likin her to the fcorpiowne,
'That is a falſe and flateryng beft,
For with his hed he makith feft,
But al amyd his flatiringe
With his taile he wil forely ftynge,
And envenim, and ſo wil fhe;
She is the envious Charite,
That is aye falfe and femith wele,
So turnith fhe her falfe whole
Aboute, for it is nothing ftable,
Nowe by the fyre nowe at the table;
Ful many' one hath the thus yblent;
She is playe of enchauntèment,
That femith one and is not fo:
The falfè thefe what hath fhe do
Troweſt thou? by' our Lorde I wil the fay.
At cheffe with me the gan to play;
With her falfe draughtis ful divers
She ftale on me, and toke my fers;
And whan I fawe my fers away,
Alas! I couth no lengir play,
But fayid, Farewel fwete! ywis,
And farewel al that er there is;
Therwith Fortune yfayid Cheke here,
And mate inthe' myd poynt of the' checkere
With a paunè errant. Alas!
Ful craftyir to play ſhe was
Than Athalus, that made the game
Firſt of the cheffe, fo was his name;
But God wolde I had ones or twife
Iconde and knowe the jeoperdife
That coude the Greke Pythagores,
I fhulde have plaide the bet at ches,
And kept my fers the bet therby;
And though wherto? for trewily
I holde that wifhe not worthe a ftre,
It had be ner the bet for me,
For Fortune can ſo many' a wyle
Ther be but fewe can her begile,
And eke ſhe is the laſſe to blame,
My felfe I wolde have do the fame,
Before God, had I ben as fhe,
She ought the more excufid be;
For this I fay yet more therto,
Had I be God, and might have do
My wyl, whan fhe my fers ycaught
I wolde have drawen the fame draught,
For al fo wife God gyve me reſte
I dare wel fwere the toke the beſte,
But throughe that draught I have ylorne
My blyffe, alas that I was borne !
For evirmore I trowe trewly,
For al my wil, my lufte wholly
Is turne, but wote ye what to done?
By' our Lorde it is to dyin fone,
For nothinge I ne leve it nought
But lyve and dye right in this thought;
There n'ys planet in firmamente,
Ne' in ayre ne' in erthe none elemente,
That they ne yeve me' a yette echone
Of wepyng whan I am alone,
For whan that I advife me wele,
And bethinke me evèrydele
How that there lieth in rekininge
In my forowis for nothinge,
And howe there livith no gladnenie
May gladdin me of my diftreffe,
And howe I have lofte fuffifaunce,
And therto I have no plefaunce,
Than may I fay I have right nought;
And whan al this falleth in my thought,
Alas! than am I ovircome,
For that is done this not to come:
I have more forowe than Tantale.
And whan I herde him tel this tale
Thus pitoufly as I you tell,
Unnethis myght I lengir dwell,
It did myn herte fo mochill wo.
A, gode Sir! (quod F) fay nat fo,
Have fome pite on your nature,
That fourmid you to a creture;
Hhij
480
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
Remembrith you of Socrates,
For he ne countith not thre ftrees
Of nought that Fortune coude ydo.
No, (quod he) I ne can not fo.
Why, gode Sir, yes parde, (quod !)
Ne fay not fo, for truily
Though ye had loft the ferfis twelve,
And for forowe murdrid your felve,
Ye fhulde be dampnid in this cafe,
By as gode right as Medea was,
That flough her childrin for Jafon,
And Phyllis for Demophoon,
'That hing her felf, fo welaway!
For he had brokin his terme day
To come to her. Anothir rage
Had Dido, the Quene of Carthage,
That flough her felf for Æneas
Was falfe, for whiche a fole fhe was;
And Echo dyed for Narciffus
Ne wolde nat love her; and right thus
Hath many' an othir foly done,
And for Dalila died Sampfone,
That floughe hini felfe with a pilere;
But there is no man alive here
Wolde for ther feris make this wo.
Why fo? (quod he) it is not ſo,
Thou woteft ful lytil what thou meneft,
For I have lofte more than thou weneft.
And howe may that ybe? (quod I)
Gode Sir, tellith me al wholly
In what wife, howe, why, and wherfore,
That ye have thus your bliffe ylore.
Blithely, (quod he;) come, fit the doun
I tel the on condicioun
Thou shalte wholly with all thy wit
Do thyne entente to herkin it.
Yes, Sir. Than fwere thy trouthe therto,
Gladly to holdin the hereto.
I fhal right blithe, fo God me fave,
Wholly with all the witte I have
Here you as wel as er I can.
A Godde's halfe, (quod he) and began.
Sir, (quod he) fithins firſte I couthe
Have any manir witte fro youthe,
Or kindily underſtandinge
To comprehende in any thinge
What love was in mine owne wit,
Dredileffe I have evir yet
Be tributary and yeve rente
To Love wholly, with gode entente,
And through plefaunce become his thral
With gode wil, body, herte, and al;
Al this I put in his fervage
As to my lorde, and dyd homage;
And full devoutly' I praide hym tho
He fhulde befet myne hertè fo
That it plefaunce unto him were
And worship to my lady derc.
And this was long and many' a yere
(Er that min hert was fet o where)
That I dyd thus, and ne wift why,
Itrowe it came me kindily;
Paraunter I was thereto moſt able
As a white wal or a table,
)
For it' is redy to catche and take
Al that men wollin therin make,
Whethir men will portrey or painte
Be the werkis nevir fo quainte.
And thilke tyme I farid right fo,
I was able to have lernid tho,
And to have conde as wel or better
Parauntir eithir arte or lettir,
But for love came firft in my thought
Therfore I ne forgate it nought;
I chees love to be my first crafte,
And therfore it is with me lafte;
For why? I toke' it of fo yonge age
That malice ne had my corage,
Not that time turnid to nothing
Thorough to mokil knowleging,
For that tyme Youth my maiſtireſſe
Covernid me in ydilneffe,
For it was in my firftè youth,
And though ful litil gode I couthe,
For al my werkis were flittyng
That time, and al my thought varying,
Al thinges were to me yliche gode,
That knewe I tho, but thus it ſtode:
It happed that I came on a day
In to a place there that I fey
Trewly the fairift companie
Of ladies that er man with eye
Had fene togithers in o place;
Shal I clepe it happe eithir grace
That brought me there? nought but Fortune,
That is to lyin ful comune,
The fall traitireffe perverfe,
God wolde that I coulde clepe her werfe,
For now the worchith me ful wo,
ſhe
And I wol tel the fone why fo.
Amonges theſe ladies thus echone,
The fothe to fayin, I fawe one
That ne was lyke none of the route,
For I dare fwere, withoutin doute,
That as the fommer's fonnè bright
Is fairer, clerer, and hath more lyght,
Than any other planet in heven,
The mone or the fterris feven,
For al the worlde right ſo had ſhe,
Surmountin 'hem al of beaute,
Of manir, and of comlyneffe
Of ftature, and wel fet gladneffe,
Of godelyhede, and fo wel befey,
Shortly, what fhal I more yſey?
By God, and by his holowes twelve,
It was my fwete right al her felve;
She had fo ftedfaft countènaunce,
So noble porte and maintènaunce,
And Love, that wel yherde my bone,
Yhad efpyid me thus fone
That the fill fonè in my thought;
As helpe me God fo was I cought
So fodainly, that I ne toke
No maner counfaile but at her loke
And at min herte; for why? her eyen
So gladly I trowe myn herte feyne,
That purely tho min owne thought
Said it were but ferve her for nought
3
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
887-
Than with anothir to be wele
And it was fothe, for every dele
I wil anone right tel the why:
I fawe her daunce ſo comily,
Carol and fing ſo fwetily,
And laugh and play fo womanly,
And lokin fo debonairly,
So godely fpeke and fo frendely,
That certes I trowe that evirmore
N'as fene fo blisful a trefore;
For every here on her hed,
The fothe to fay, it was not red,
Ne neithir yelowe ne browne it n'as,
Me thought mofte like to golde it was;
And whiche eyin my lady had,
Debonaire, gode, and glad, and fad,
Simple', of gode mokil, not to wide;
Therto her loke n'as not aſide,
Ne ovirthwart, but befet fo wele
It drewe and toke up everydele
Al whiche that on her gan beholde;
Her eyin femed anone the wolde
Have mercy, Folly wendin fo,
But it was ner the rathir do;
It n'as no counterfetid thinge,
It was her owne pure loking,
Whiche that the goddeffe Damo Nature
Had made 'hem opin by meſure
And cloſe, for were the ner fo glad
Her loking was not folifhe fprad
Ne wildily though that ſhe plaide,
But er me thought her eyin faide
By God my wrathe is al forieve;
Therwith her lifte fo well to live
That Dulneſſe was of her adrad;
She n'as to fobre ne to glad;
In alle thingis more mefure
Ne had nevir I trowe creture;
But many' one with her loke the herte,
And that fate her full lyte at herte,
For ſhe knewe nothinge of ther thought;
But wher fhe knewe or knewe it nought
Algate ſhe ne' rought of 'hem a ſtre;
To get her love no nere n'as he
That woned at home than he in Inde;
The formift was alway behinde;
But gode folke ovir al othir
She loved as man may his brothir,
Of whiche love ſhe was wondir large
In fkilful placis that bere charge;
But whiche a vifage had the therto!
Alas! my herte
herte is wondir wo
That I ne can difcrivin it,
Me lackith bothe Engliſhe and wit
For to undo it at the ful,
Aud eke my fpirites ben fo dull
So gret a thinge for to devife;
I have no wyt that can fuffyfe
To comprehendin her beaute;
But thus moche I dare faine, that the
Was white, rody, frethe, lifely hewed,
And every day her beaute newed;
And nyghe her face was aldirbefte,
For certis Nature had foche lefte
it
To make that faire, that trewly fhe
Was her chefe patron of beaute,
And chefe enfample' of al her werke
And monftre, for be' it ner fo derke
Me thinketh 1 fe her evirmo;
And yet moreovir, though al tho
That ever lived were now a lyve
Ne wolde thei have founde to diſcrive
In al her face a wickid figne,
For it was fad, fimple', and benigne.
And ſoche a godely ſwetè ſpeche
Yhad that fwete, my lyv'is leche
So frendely, and fo well ygrounded,
Upon refon fo wel ifounded,
And ſo tretable to al gode,
That I dare fwere wel by the rode
Of eloquence was nevir fonde
So fwete a fowning and faconde,
Ne trewir tonged, ne fcornid laffe,
Ne bet coude hele, that by the maſſe
I durfte fwere, though the Pope it fonge,
That ther was ner yet through her tonge
Man ne woman gretly harmid,
As for her was al harme yhid,
Ne laffe flatiring in her worde,
That purely her fimple recorde
Was founde as trewe as any bonde
Or trouthe of any man'is honde.
Ne chide fhe coulde nevir a dele,
That knowith al the worlde ful wele.
But foche a faireneſſe of a necke
Yhad that fwete, that bone nor brecke
N'as there none ſein that miffefatte,
It was white, fmothe, freight, and pure flatte,
Withoutin hole or canel bone,
And by feming the ne had none.
Her throte, as I have nowe memoire,
Semed as a rounde tour of yvoire,
Of gode gretneffe, and not to grete;
And Fair: White ywas fhe hete,
That was my ladies name right,
And he was therto faire and bright;
She ne had not her name wronge :
Right faire fholdirs and body longe
She had, and armis evir lith,
Fattifhe, fleshy, nat grete ther with;
Right white handis, and nailis rede;
Rounde breftis; and of a gode brede
Her hippis were; a ftreight flatte backe,
I knewe on her none othir lacke,
That al her limmis n'ere pure fewing,
In as ferre as I had knowing:
Therto fhe coulde fo wel yplaye
What that her lyfte, that I dare faye
That he was lyke to torchè bright,
That every man may take of light
Ynough, and it hath ner the leffe
Of manir and of comlyneffe.
Right fo farid my lady dere,
For
every wight of her manere
Moght catche ynough if that he wolde,
Yi he had eyen her to beholde,
For I dare fwere wel if that the
Had amonge tenne thouſande ybą
Hb iiij
288
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
She woldin have be at the beſte
A chefe myroure of al the fefte,
Though they had ftondin in a rowe
To mennis eyen that couldė have knowe;
For where fo men had plaide or waked
Me thought the felowfhippe as naked
Withoutin her that 1 fawe ones
As a corowne withoutin ftones;
Trewily fhe was to min eye
The' folein phoenix of Arabye,
For there livith nevir but one,
Ne fuche as he ne knowe I none:
To fpeke of godeneffe, trewly fhe
Had as mochil debonairte
As er had Hefter in the Bible,
And more, if more were poffible;
And, fothe to fayin, therwithal
She hadde a witte fo general,
So whole enclinid to al gode,
'That al' her witte was fette by the' rode
Without malyce, upon gladneſſe;
And therto' I fawe ner yet a leffe
Harmful than fhe was in doing;
I fay not that fhe n' hadde know yng
What harme ywas, or ellis fhe
Had coulde no gode, fo thinkith me
And trewly for to fpeke of trouthe,
But he had had it had be routhe,
Therof ſhe had fo moche her dele,
And I dare faine and fwere it wele,
That Trouthe him felfe over al and al
Had chofe his manor principal
In her, that was his refting place;
Therto fhe had the mofte grace
To have ftedfafte perfeveraunce,
And efy' attempre govirnaunce,
That evir I knewe or wifte yet,
So pure fuffèraunt was her wit;
And refon gladly ſhe' underſtode,
It folowid wel fhe coulde gode;
She ufid gladly to do wele :
Theſe were her manirs every dele.
Therwith the lovid fo wel right
She wronge do wouldin to no wight;
No wight ne might do her no ſhame,
She lovid fo wel her owne name,
Her luft to holde no wight in honde,
Ne be thou fikir fhe wolde not fonde
To holdin no wight in balaunce
By halfe worde ne by countinaunce,
But if men wolde upon her lye,
Ne fende men into Walakye,
To Pruife and to Tartarie,
To Alifaundrie ne Turkye,
And bidde him faft anon that he
Go hodeleffe into the drie fe,
And come home by the Carrenare ;
And, Sir, be ye nowe full ryght ware
That I may of you here men faine
Wurfhippe or that ye come againe.
She ne uſed no foche knackis fmale:
But therfore that I tel my tale,
Right on this fame, as I have faide,
Was wholly al my love ylaide,
For certis fhe was that fwete wife,
My fuffifaunce, my lufte, my life,
Min hope, min hele, and al my bleffe,
My worlde's welfare and my goddeffe,
And I wholly' hers, and every dele.
By' our Lorde! (quod I) I trowe you wele,
Hardly your love was wel befet,
I n'ot howe it might have do bet.
Bettir ne not fo wel (quod he.)
I trowe it, Sir, (quod I) parde.
Nay leve it wel. Sir, fo do I ;
I leve you wel that trewily
You thought that the ywas the beſt,
And to beholde the alderfaireft,
Who fo had loked her with your cyen.
With myn! nay, al whiche that her feyen
Sayid and fwore that it was fo,
And though they ne had I wolde tho
Have lovid beft my lady fre
Though I had had al the beaute
That er had Alcibiades,
And al the ftrength of Hercules,
And thereto had the worthineffe
Of Alifaundre', and al the' richeffe
That evir was in Babyloine,
In Carthage or in Macedoine,
Or in Rome or in Nineve,
And therto al fo hardy be
As was Hector, fo have I joyc,
That Achilles yflough at Troye,
And therefore was he flayne alfo
In a temple, for bothe two
Were flaine, he' and Antilegius,
And ſo faithe Darius Fregius,
For the love of Polyxena,
Or ben as wife as Minerva,
I wolde evir withoutin drede
Have lovid her, for I muft nede.
Nede! nay, trewly I gabbè nowe;
Nought nede, and I wol tellin howe,
For of golde wil min herte it wolde,
And eke to love her I was holde,
As for the fairift and the befte;
She was as gode, fo have I refte,
As was Penelope of Grece,
Or as the noble wife Lucrece,
That was the befte, he tellith thus
The Roman Titus Livius,
She was as gode, and nothing like,
Though ther ftories be autentike,
Algate ſhe was as trewe as the.
But wherfore that I tellin the,
Whan that I firſt my lady fey
I was right yonge, the fothe to fey,
And ful grete nede I had to lerne,
Whan that myn hertè woldin yerne ;
To love it was a gret emprife,
But as my wite wolde befte fuffiſe;
Aftir my yonge and childely wit
Withoutin drede I befet it
To lovin her in my befte wife,
To do' her wurfhip and the fervife,
Whiche that I coude tho, by my trouthe
Withoutin faining eithir flouthe,
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
489
For wondir faine I wolde her fe;
So mokill it amendid me,
That whan I fawe her a morowe
I was warifhed of al my forowe
Of al day aftir tel' it were eve;
Me thoughtin nothinge might me greve
Were my forowes nevir fo fmerte,
And yet fhe fyt fo in min herte
That by my trouthe I n'oldè nought
For al this worlde out of my thought
Vieve my lady; no trewly.
Now by my trouthè, Sir, (quod I)
Me thinkith you have foche a chaunce
As fhrifte without in repentaunce.
Repentaunce. nay, nay; fye! (quod he)
Shuldin I nowe repentin me
To love? nay, certes, than were I wel
Worle than ywas Achitophel
Or Antenor, fo have I joye,
The traitour that betrayid Troye,
Or than the falſe Ganclion,
He that purchafid the traiſon
Of Roulande and of Olivere:
Nay, while that I am alive here
In'yl foriet her nevirmo.
Nowe, gode Sir, quod I to him tho,
Ye have wel tolde me here before,
It is no nede to reherſe it more,
Howe that ye fawe her firſt, and where,
But wolde ye tel me the manere
To her whiche was your firftè fpeche,
Therof I wolde you beſeche,
And howe that the knewe firſt your thought,
Whethir lovid her or nought,
ye
And telleth me eke what ye have lore;
1 herde you tellin here before,
Ye faide thou n'otift what thou meneft,
For I have lofte more than thou weneft?
And what loffe is that? (quod I tho ;)
N'il fhe not love you? is it fo?
Or havin ye ought done amis,
That ſhe hath left you? is it this?
For Godd'is love telleth me al.
Before God (quod fhe) and I fhal.
Ilay right as I have yfaide,
On her was al my love ylaide,
And yet fhe n'ifte it ner a dele
Not longè tyme, levith it wele,
For be right fykir I durft nought
For al this worlde tel her my thought,
Ne' I wolde have wrathid her trewly;
For woft thou why? fhe was lady
Of the body that had the herte,
And whofo' hath that may not afterte,
But for to kepe me fro' ydleneffe
Trewly I dyd my bufineffe
To make fongis as I beſt coude,
And oftin time I fonge 'hem loude,
And made fongis this a grete dele,
Although I coud nat make fo wele
Songis, ne knewe the arte fo al,
As coude Lamek'is fone Tubal,
That founde out firſte the arte of fonge,
For as his brothir's hamirs ronge
Upon his anvelt up and downe
Therof he toke the firftè ſowne.
But Grekes faine of Pythagoras
That he the first findir ywas
Of the' arte, Aurora tellith fo;
But therof no force of 'hem two;
Algatis fongis thus I made
Of my felyng, min herte to glade,
And lo! this was the althir firſt,
I n'ot whethir it were the worſt :
Lorde! it makith min hertè light
Whan that I thinke on that fwete wight
That is fo femely on to ſe,
And wifhe to God it might ſo be
That ſhe wolde holde me for her knight,
My lady, that' is fo faire and bright.
Nowe have I tolde the, foth to ſay,
My firftè fonge. Upon a day
I bethought me what mochil wo
And forowe that I fuffrid tho
For her, and yet fhe wifte it nought;
Ne tel her durit I not my thought:
Alas! thaught I, I can no rede,
And but I tel her, I am but dede,
And if I tel her, to fay fothe
I am adradde fhe wol be wrothe:
Alas' what fhal I than ydo ?
In this debate I was fo wo
Me thought myne hertè braft atwaine,
So at the laft, fothe for to faine,
I bethought me that Dame Nature
Ne formid nevir in creture
So mochil beauty trewily
And bountie withoutin mercy.
In hope of that my tale I tolde
With forowe, as that 1 ner fholde
For nedis, and maugre myne hed
I muſt have tolde her or be ded.
I n'ot wel howe that I began,
Ful yvil reherſe it I can,
And eke, as helpe me God withal,
I trowe it was in the difmal,
That was the ten woundes of Egypte.
For many a worde I ovirſkipte
In telling my tale, for pure fere
Left that my wordis myffefet were;
With forowful hert and woundes dede,
Softely, and quaking for pure drede
And fhame, and ftinting in my tale
For ferde, and min hewe alle paie;
Ful ofte I wexte bothe pale and rcd,
Bowing to her I hinge the hed;
I durft not onis loke her on,
For wit, manir, and al, was gone;
I faide, Mercy, fwete! and no more:
It n'as no game; it fate me fore.
So at the laſte, the fothe to faine,
Whan that myne herte was come againe,
To tellin fhortly al my fpeche,
With whole herte I gan her befeche
That ſhe wolde be my lady fwete,
And fwore and hertely gan her hete
Evir to be ftedfaſte and trewe,
And love her alway freſhly newe,
490
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
And nevir othir lady have,
And al her worſhip for to fave
As I befte coude, I fwere her this,
For yours is al that er ther is,
For evirmore, myne herte fwete!
And ner to falfe you but I mete
In'yl, as wife God helpe me fo.
And whan I had my tale ydo
God wote fhe' acomptid not a ſtre
Of al my tale, fo thoughtin me:
To tel fhortly, right as it is,
Trewly her anfwere it was this;
I can not nowe wel contrefete
Her wordis, but this was the grete
Of her anſwere: fhe fayid Nay
All utterly. Alas that day
}
The forowe' I fuffrid and the wo!
That trewly Caffandra, that fo
Bewaylid the diftruccion
Of Troye and of Ilion
Had ner foche forowe as I tho;
I durftin no more fay therto
For pure fere, but yftale away,
And thus I lyved ful many a day
That trewily I had no nede
Ferthir than at my bedd'is hede
Nevir a day to fechin forowe,
I founde it redy every morowe;
For why? I loved her in no gere.
So it befell an othir yere
I thought onis I wouldin fonde
To doe her knowe and undirſtonde
My wo; and fhe well undirftode
That I ne wilnid thyng but gode
And worship, and to kepe her name
Ovir all thynges, and drede her ſhame,
And was fo bufie her to ſerve,
And pitie were I fhouldin fterve,
Sithe that I wilned none harme iwis.
So when my ladie knewe all this,
My ladie yave me all whollie
The noble yeft of her mercie,
Savyng her worſhip by al waies;
Dredeleffe I mene none othir waies,
And therewith fhe yave me a ryng,
I trowe it was the firftè thyog:
But if myne herte was iwaxe
Glad that it is no nede to axe.
As helpe me God I was as blive
Yraifid as fro deth to live,
Of all happis the aldirbeſt,
The gladdift and the moſte at reft
For truilie that fwete wight,
When I had wrong and fhe the right,
She wouldin alwaie fo godelie
Foryeve me fo debonairlie;
In alle my youth, in alle chaunce,
She toke me in her govirnaunce;
'Therewith fhe was alwaie fo true,
Our joye was evir iliche newe;
Our hertis werne fo even a paire,
That nevir n'as that one contraire
Unto that othir for no wo,
For fothe iliche thei fuffrid tho.
O bliffe, and eke o forowe bothe!
Iliche thei were bothe glad and wrothe.
All was us one withoutin were;
And thus we lived full many'a yere
So well I can not tellin how.
Sir, (quod I) and where is the now?
Now! quod he, and yftinte anone,
Therewith he woxe as dedde as ftone,
And faied, Alas that I was bore!
That was the loffe that here before
I tolde the that I had ylorne.
Bethinke the how I faied beforne
Thou wofte ful lityl what thou meneft,
For I have lofte more then thou weneft.
God wot, alas right that was fhe.
Alas, Sir! how? what maie that be?
She is dedde! Naie! Yes, by my trouthe.
Is that your loffe? by God it' is routhe.
And with that wordè right anone
Thei gan to ftrake forthe; all was done
For that tyme the hart huntyng.
With that me thoughtin that this kyng
Began homewardis for to ride
Unto a place was there befide,
Whiche that was from us but a lite,
A long caftill with wallis white,
By Saint John, on a richè hill,
As me mette; but thus it befill :
Right thus me mette, as I you tell,
That in the caftell there was a bell,
As it had fmittin houris twelve,
And therewith I awoke my felve,
And found me lying in my bedde,
And the boke whiche that I had redde
Of Alcyone and Ceix the kyng,
And of the goddis of Slepyng,
I found it in myne hond ful evin;
Thought I this is fo queint a fwevin
That I would by proceffe of tyme
Fonde to put this fwevin in rime
As I can beft, and that anon:
This was my fwevin, now it' is doen.
This ſeems an envoy to the Duke of Lancaſter after Ek
lofs of Blanch.
My mafter, &c. When of Chrift our kyng
Was afkid, What is trothe or fothfaftneffe,
He not a worde anfwerde to that aſkyng,
As who faieth, no manne is all true I geſſe;
And therefore though I hight for to expreffe
The forowe' and wo that is in mariage
I dare not writen of it no wickidneffe,
Left I my felf fall eft in foche dotage.
I woll not faie how that it is the chaine
Of Sathanas on whiche he knawith ever,
But I dare faine were he out of his paine
As by his will he would be boundin never;
But thilke dotid fole that eft hath lever
Ichainid be than out of prifone crepe,
God let hym nevir fro his woe difcever,
Ne no man hym bewailin though he wepe.
THE DREME OF CHAUCER.
49%
But yet leffe thou do worſe takith a wife;
Bet is to wedde than brennin in worſe wife;
But thou shalt have forowe on thy fleſhe thy life,
And ben thy wiv'is thralle, as faine theſe wife;
And if that holy writte maie not ſuffiſe,
Experience fhall the teche, fo maie happe :
Take the waie levir to be taken in Frife
Then eft to fall of weddyng in the trappe.
This lityl writte, proverbis or figure,
I ſend you, takith kepe of it I rede;
Unwife is be that can no wele endure ;
If thou be fikir put the not in drede.
The Wife of Bathe I praie you that ye rede
Of this matter whiche that we have on honde i
God grauntin you your life frely to lede
In fredome, for foule is it to be bonde,
392
THE ASSEMBLE OF FOULES.
THE ASSEMBLE OF FOULES.
All Fowles are gathered before Nature on St. Valentine's Day to chufe their mates. A
formal eagle being beloved of three tercels requireth a year's reſpite to make her choice,
upon this triall, Qui bien aime tard oublie, he that loveth well is flow to forget.
THE life fo fhort, the craft fo long to lerne,
The affaye fo hard, fo fharp the conqueryng,
The dredefull joy, alwaie that flit ſo yerne,
All this mene I by Love, that my felyng
Aftonieth with his wondirfull werkyng
So fore iwis, that when I on him thinke
Naught wete I well whether I flete or fink.
For all be that I knowe not Love in dede,
Ne wot how that he quitith folke ther hirc,
Yet happith me full ofte in bokis rede
Of his miraclis and his cruill ire,
There rede 1 well he woll be lorde and fire:
I dare not faie his ftrokis be fo fore,
But God fave foche a lorde! I can no more.
Of uſage, what for luft and what for lore,
On bokis rede I oft, as I you tolde,
But wherfore that I fpeke all this, naught yore
Agon it happid me for to beholde
Upon a boke iwritte with lettirs old,
And thereupon a certain thing to lerne,
The longè daie full faft I radde and yerne;
For out of the old feldis, as men ſaieth,
Comith all this newe corne fro yere to yere,
And out of oldè bokis, in gode faieth,
Comith all this newe fcience that men lere :
But now to purpoſe: as of this mattere
To redin forthe, it gan me fo delite
That all the daie me thought it but a lite.
This boke of which I makin mencion
Entitlid was dight thus, as I fhall tell,
Tullius of the Drame of Scipion;
Chapiters feven it had of heven and hell.
And yerth, and foulis that therein do dwell,
Of whiche, as fhortly as I can it trcte,
Of this fentence I woll you faine the grete.
First tellith it when Scipion was come
In Affrike how he metith Maffiniffe,
That hym for joie in armis hath inome;
Then tellith he her ſpeche and all the bliffe
That was betwixt 'hem till the daie gan miffe,
And how his auncefter Affrikan fo dere
Gan in his flepe that night till hym appere :
Then tellith it that from a ftarric place
How Affrikan hath hym Carthage yfhewed,
And warnid hym beforne of all his grace,
And faied hym, What man, lerid eithir leude,
That lovith common profite well itheude,
He ſhould into a blisfull place ywende,
There as joye is that laft withoutin ende:
Then alkid he if folke that here ben dede
Have life and dwellyng in an othir place?
And Affrikan faied Ye, withoutin drede,
And how our prefent worly liv'is fpace.
N'is but a manir deth, what waie we trace,
And rightfull folke fhull gon aftir thei die
To heven, and fhewid hym the Galaxie :
Then fhewed he him the little yerth that here is
To regarde of the hevin's quantite,
And after fhewid he hym the nine fperis,
And aftir that the melodie herd he
That comith of thylke fperis thryis thre,
That welles of mufike ben and melodie
In this worlde here and cauſe of harmonie:
Then ſaid he him, Sens that yerth was fo lite,
And full of tourment and of hardè grace,
That he ne fhuld hym in this worlde delite;
Then told he him in certain yeris ſpace
That every ſterre fhould come into his place
There it was firſt, and all fhould out of mind
That in this world is doen of all mankynd:
THE ASSEMBLE OF FOULES.
493
Then prased hym Scipion to tell hym all
The waie to come into that hevin bliffe;
and he faied, Firſt knowe thyſelf immortall,
And loke aie bufely that thou werche and wiſſe
To common profite, and thou fhalt not miſſe
To come ſwiftly unto that place dere
That full of bliffe is and of foulis clere.
And brekirs of the lawe, the fothe to faine, .
And likerous folke aftir that thei ben dede,
shull whirle about the worlde alwaie in pain
Till many' a worlde be paflid, out of drede,
And then foryevin all ther wickid dede;
Then fhullin thei come to that blisfull place,
To whiche to comin God fendin the grace.
The daie gan failin; and the darkè night,
That revith beftis from their buſineſſe,
Beraftè me my boke for lacke of light,
And to my bedde I gan me for to dreffe,
Fulfilled of thought and bufie hevineffe,
For bothe I had thyng whiche that I ne wolde,
And eke I ne had that thyng that I wolde.
But, finally, my fpirite at the laſte,
For werie of my labour all that daie,
Toke reft, that madin me to flepin faſte,
And in my flepe I met as that I laie
How Affrikan, right in the felf araie
That Scipion hym fawe before that tide,
Was come, and ftode right at my bedd'is fide.
The werie huntir flepyng in his bedde
'The wodde ayen his minde goith anone,
The judge ydremith how his plees be fpedde,
The cartir dremith how his cartis gone,
The rich of gold, the knight fight with his fone,
The ficke ymette he drinkith of the tonne,
The lovir mette he hath his ladie wonne.
Can I not faine if that the cauſe ywere
For I had radde of Affrican beforne
That madin me to mete that he ftode there,
But thus faid he; Thou haft the fo wel borne
In iokyng of myne olde boke all to torne,
Of which Macrobic ne raught not a lite,
That fomedele of thy labour would I quite.
Thou Citherea, blisfull ladie fwete!
That with thy fire brond dauntiſt when the left,
That madiſt me this fwevin for to mete,
Be thou my helpe in this, for thou maiſt beſt,
As wifely as I feigh the north northweſt
When I began my fwevin for to write,
So
yeve me might to rime it and endite.
This forefaid Affrikan me hent anone,
And forthe with hym unto a gate ybrought
Right of a parke ywallid with grene ftone,
And o'er the gate with lettirs large ywrought
There werin verfis writtin, as me thought,
On cithir halfe, of full grete difference,
On which I fhall you faic the plain ſentence.
Through me men gon into that blisful place
Of hertis hele and dedly woundis cure,
Through me men gone into the well of grace,
There grene and luftic Maie fhall er endure;
This is the waie to all gode avinture :
Be glad, thou reader, and thy forowe' of caſt,
All open am 1; paffe in, and fpede the fait.
Through me men gon,then ſpake that othir ſide,
Unto the mortall ftrokis of the fpere,
Of whiche Difdain and Daungir is the gide,
There nevir tre fhall fruit ne levis bere;
This ftreme you ledith to the forowfull were
There as the fifhe in prifon is all drie;
Th' efchewyng is onely the remedie,
Thefe verfis of gold and afure writte were,
Of whiche I gan aſtonied to beholde,
For with that one encreûid all my fere,
And with that othir gan my herte to bolde;
That one me het, that othir did me colde:
No wit had I for errour for to chefe
To entre' or flie, or me to fave or lefe.
Right as betwixin adamantis two-
Of evin weight a pece of fet
yron
Ne hath no might to movin to ne fro,
For what that one maie hale that othir let;
So fared I, that I n'ift where me was bet
To entre' or leve, til Affrican my gide
Me hent, and fhove in at the gatis wide,
And faied, It ftandith writtin in thy face
Thyne errour, though thou tell it not to me,
But dred the not to come into this place,
For this writyng is nothyng mente by the,
Ne by none but he Lov'is fervaunt be,
For thou of love haft loft thy taft I geffe,
As ficke man hath of fwete and bittirneſſe.
But nathèles, although that thou be dull,
That which thou canst not doe yet maieft thou fe,
For many a man that maie not ſtande a pull
Yet liketh it hym at wreftlyng for to be,
And demith whethir he doe bet or he;
And if thou haddift connyng for t'endite
I fhall the fhewin mattir of to write.
With that my hand in his he toke anon,
Of whiche I comfort caught, and went in faſt;
But Lorde fol was glad and well begon!
For ovir all where I myne eyin caſt
Were treis clad with leves that aie fhal laft,
Eche in his kinde, with colour freſhe and grene
As emeraude, that joie it was to fene.
The bildir oke, and eke the hardie asfhe,
The pillir elme, the coffir unto caraine,
The boxe pipetre, the holme to whippis lasfhe,
The failing firre, the cypres deth to plaine,
The hotir ewe, the afpe for fhaftis plaine,
The' olive of pece, and eke the dronkin vine,
The victor palme, the laurir to divine.
A gardein fawe I full of blofomed bowis
Upon a rivir in a grenè mede
There as fweteneffè evirmore inough is,
With flouris white and blewe, yelowe and rede,
And colde and clere welleſtremis nothyng dede,
That fwommin full of fmalè fifhis light,
With finnis rede and fcalis ilvir bright.
Oa every bough the birdis herd I fyng
With voice of angell in their harmonie,
That bufied hem ther birdis forthe to bryng,
The little pretie conies to ther plaie gan hie,
And furthir all about I gan efpic
1 he dredfull roe, the buck, the hart, and hind,
Squilils, and beftis fmell of gentle kind,
494
THE ASSEMBLE OF FOULES.
1
Of inftruments of ftringis in accorde
Herd I fo plaie a raviſhyng fwetneffe
That God, that makir is of all and lorde,
Ne herd nevir a bettir, as I gefſe,
Therewith a winde, unneth it might be leffe,
Made in the levis grene a noifè ſoft
Accordant to the Foulis fong on loft.
The aire of the place fo attempre was
That ner was ther grevaunce of hot ne cold,
There was eke every whulfome fpice and gras,
Ne no man maie there waxin fike ne old;
Yet was there mor joie a thouſande fold
Then I can tell, or evir could or might;
There is evir clere daie and nevir night.
Undir a tre befide a well 1 feye
Cupide our lorde his arrowes forge and file,
And at his fete his bowe all redie laye,
And well his doughtir temprid all the while
The heddis in the well, and with her wile
She couchid 'hem aftir as thei fhould ferve,
Some for to flea, and fome to wound and carve.
Tho was I ware of Plefance anon right,
And of Arrai, Lufte, Beaute', and Curtifie,
And of the craft that can yhave the might
To doen by force a wight to doen folie,
Disfigurid was fhe, I will not lie,
And by himſelf, undir an oak I geffe,
Sawe I delite, that ftode with Gentilneffe:
Then fawe I Beautie with a nice atire,
Ad Youth, all full of game and jolite,
Fole Hardineffe, Flattirie, and Defire,
Meffagerie, and Mede, and othir thre,
Ther namis fhall not here be tolde for me,
And upon pillars grete of jafpir long
I fawe a temple' of braffe ifoundid ſtrong:
And about the temple dauncid alwaie
Women inow, of which fome there ywere
Faire of 'hemfelf, and fome of 'hem were gaie;
In kirtils all disheveled went thei there,
That was ther office er fro yere to yere ;
And on the temple fawe I white and faire
Of dovis fiftyng many' a thouſande paire.
Before '.he temple dore full fobirlie
Dame Pe ce yfat, a curtaine in her honde,
And her befidis wondir difcretlie
Dame 'Pacience yfittyng there I fonde,
With 'iace pale, upon an hille of fonde,
And althir uexte, within and eke without,
Behrft and Arte, and of ther folke a rout.
Within the temple' of fighis hote as fire
I herd a ſwough that gan about to ren,
Whiche fighis were engendrid with defire
That madin every herte for to bren
'Of newè flambe; and well efpied I then
That all the caufe of forowes that thei drie
Come of the bittir goddis Jeloufie.
The god Priapus.fawe I as I went
Within the temple' in foveraine place yftonde
In foche arraie as when the affe rym fhent
With crie by night, and with fceptre in honde;
Full bufilie men ban affaie and fonde
Upon his hedde to fet of fondrie hewe
Garlandis full of frcfhe flouris newe:
And in a privie corner in diſport
Found I Venus and her portir Richeffe,
That was full noble' and hautin of her port;
Darke was that place, but aftirwarde lightneffe
I fawe a lite, unnethes it might be leffe,
And on a bed of golde fhe laie to refte
Till that the hote fonne began to wefte.
Her gildid heris with a goldin threde
Iboundin were, untreffid as fhe laie,
And nakid from the breft unto the hede
Men might her fe, and, fothly for to ſaie,
The remenaunt covired well to my paie
Right with a lityl kerchefe of Valence;
There n'as no thickir clothe of no defence.
The place gave a thouſande favours fote,
And Bacchus, god of Wine, fate her befide,
And Ceres next, that doeth of hunger bote,
And, as I faied, amiddis laie Cypride,
To whom on kncis the yong folkis cride
To be ther helpe: but thus I let her lie,
And farthir in the temple' I gan efpie,
That in diſpite of Diana the chaſte
Full many a bowe ibroke hing on the wall
Of maidins, foche as gone ther tymis wafte
In her fervice, and paintid ovir all
Of many' a ftoric', of whiche I touchin fhall
A fewe, as of Califto' and Atalante,
And many' a maide of which the name I want.
Semeramis, Candace', and Hercules,
Biblis, Dido, Thifbe, and Pyramus,
Triftram, Ifoude, Paris, and Achilles,
Helaine, Cleopatra, and Troilus,
Scylla, and eke the mother of Romulus;
All theſe were paintid on that othir fide,
And all ther love, and in what plite thei dide.
When I was comen ayen into the place
That I of fpake, that was fote and grene,
Forthe walked I tho my felvin to folace,
Tho was I ware where there yfate a quenc
That as of light the fonimir fonnè ſhene
Paffith the ſterre, right ſo ovir meſure
She fairir was then any other creture.
And in a launde, upon a hill of floures,
Was fet this qucne, this noble goddeffe Nature;
Of braunchis were her hallis and her boures
Iwrought after her croft and her meſure;
Neither n'as Foule that cometh of engendrure
That there ne were ypreft in her prefence
To take her dome and yeve her audience;
For this was on Saint Valentin'is daie,
When every Foule comith to chefe her make
Of every kinde that men ythinkin maie,
And that fo huge a noife gan thei to make
The yerth, the fe, and tre, and every lake,
So full was, that unnethis there was ſpace
For me to ftande, fo full was all the place.
And right as Alaine in The Plaint of Kinde
Devifeth Nature of foche araie and face,
In foche araie men mightin her there finde.
This noble empreffe, full of alle grace,
Bad every Foule takin her owne place
As thei were wont alwaie fro yere to yere
On Saint Valentines daie to flandin there:
THE ASSEMBLE OF FOULES.
495
That is to faie, the Foulis of ravine
Were highift fct, and then the Foulis fmale,
That etin as them Nature would encline,
As worme or thing, of which I tell no tale,
And watirfoule fate lowift in the dale,
And Foules that liveth by fede fat on the grene,
And that fo felc that wondir was to fene.
There mightin men the roiall egle finde,
That with his fharpe loke perfith the ſon,
And ochir eglis of a lowir kinde,
Of whiche that clerkis well devifin con;
There was the tirant with his fethirs don
And grene, I mene the goſhauke, that doth pine
To birdes for his outragious ravine;
The gentle faucon, that with his fete diftreineth
The kyng'is hand, the hardie fperhauke eke,
The qual'is foe, the merlion, that peineth
Hymſelf full oft, the larke for to ſeke,
There was the dove, with her eyin fo meke,
The jelous fwan, ayenft his deth that fingeth,
The oule eke, that of deth the bode ybringeth;
The crane, the geant, with his tromp'is fonne,
The thief the chough, and eke the chattring pie,
The fcornyng jaie, the ele's foe the heroune,
The falfe lapwing, alle full of trechirie,
The ſtarling, that the counfaile can bewrie,
The tame ruddocke, and the cowarde kite,
The cocke, that horiloge is of thropcs lite;
The ſparow, Venus fon, the nightingale,
That clepith forthe the freſhè levis newe,
The ſwalowe, murdrer of the beis fmale,
That maken honie of flouris freſhe of hewe,
The weddid turtell with his hertè true,
The pecocke with his angell fethirs bright,
The telaunt, fcornir of the cocke by night;
The waker gofe, the cuckowe, er unkinde,
The popingeie, full of delicafie,
The drake, deftreyir of his ownè kinde,
The ftorke, the wrekir of advoutèrie,
The hote cormeraunt, full of glotonie,
The ravin wife, the crowe, with voice of care,
The throftill olde, and froftie feldèfare.
What fhould I faie? of Foules of every kind
That in this world have fethirs and ſtature
Men mightin in that place affemblid finde
Before that noble goddeffe of nature,
And eche of them ydid his bufie cure
Benignelie to chefe or for to take
By her accorde his formell or his make.
But to the point Nature held on her hond
A formell egle', of fhape the gentilleft
That evir fhe emong her workis fonde,
The mofte benigne and eke the godelieft;
In her was every vertue at his reſt
So farforthe, that Nature her felf had bliffe
To loke on her, and oft her becke to kiffe.
Nature, the vicare of the' almightie Lorde,
That hote and colde, hevie, light, moitte, and drie,
Hath knit by evin nombir of accorde,
In efie voice began to fpeke and faie,
Foulis, take hede of my fentence I praie,
And for your efe, in fordring of your nede,
As faſt as I maic fpcke I will me fpede.
Ye know well how on S. Valentine's daie,
By my ftatute and through my govirnaunce,
Ye cheſe your makes, and aftir flie awaie
With 'hem as I doe pricke you with pleſaunce,
But natheleffe, as by rightfull ordinaunce,
Maie 1 not let, for all this worlde to win,
But he that mofte worthieft is ſhall begin.
The tercell egle, as ye knowe full wele,
The Foule roiall, above you' all in degre,
The wife and worthie, fecret, true as ftele,
The whiche I have formid, as ye maie ſe,
In every parte as it beft likith me,
It nedith not his fhape you to deviſe,
He ſhall firſt chefe and ſpekin'in his gife.
And after hym by ordir fhall ye chefe
Aftir your kinde, everiche as you likith,
And as your hap is fhall ye win or lefe,
But which of you that love moſt entrikith
God fende hym her that foreſt for hym fikith;
And therwithail the tercell gan fhe call,
And faied, My fonne, the choife is to the fall.
But natheleſſe in this condicion
Mufte be the choice of everiche that is here,
That the agre to his eleccion,
Who fo he be, that fhould yben her fere;
This is our uſage aye fro yere to yere,
And who fo maie at this time have his grace
In blisfull tyme he came into this place.
With hed enclined and with full humble chere
This roiall tercell ſpake, and taried nought,
Unto my foveraine ladie', and not my fere,
I choſe and chefe with will, and hert, and thought,
The formell on your hand fo well iwrought,
Whoſe I am all, and evir will her ferve,
Doe what her lufte to doe me live or fterve
Beſechyng her of mercie and of grace,
As fhe that is my ladie fovèrain,
Or let me die here prefent in this place,
For certis long maie I not live in pain,
For in my herte is corvin every vain,
Havyng regarde onily to my trouthe:
My dere herte! havith on my wo ſome routhe,
And if that I be founde to her untrue,
Difobeifaunt, or wilfull negligent,
Avauntour, or in procèffe love anewe,
I praie to you this be my judgèment,
That with thefe Foulis I be all to rent
That ilke daie that ſhe me evir finde
To her untrue or in my gilte unkinde.
And fith none lovith her fo well as I,
Although the nevir of love me behet,
Then ought ſhe to be mine through her mercie,
For othir bonde can I none on her knet,
For for wele nor wo nevir fhall I let
To fervin her, how far fo that ſhe wende:
Saie what you lifte, my tale is at an ende.
Full right as the fote and freſhe redde rofe newe
Against the fommir funne ycoloured is,
Right fo for fhame all waxin gan the hewe
Of this formell when that the herd all this;
Neithir fhe anfwerde well ne faied amis,
So fore abafhed was the, till that Nature
Saied, Doughtir, drede you not, I you affure.
496
THE ASSEMBLE OF FOULES:
And othir tercell egle fpake anon
Of lowir kind, and faied that ſhould not be ;
I love her bet then ye doe by Sainct John,
Or at the left I love as well as ye,
And lengir have ſerved her in my degre,
And if ſhe ſhould have loved for long lovyng
To me alone had be the guerdonyng.
I dare eke faie, if fhe me findin falſe,
Unkinde, jangler, rebell, in any wife,
Or jelous, doe me hangin by the halfe;
And but I berin me in her ſerviſe
As well aye as my wit can me fuffife
Fro point to poinct, her honour for to fave,
'Take the my life and all the gode I have.
The thirde tercell egle anfwerid tho,
Now, Sirs, ye fe the lityl lefir here,
For every Foule crieth out to be ago
Forthe with his make or with his lady dere,
And eke Nature her felf ne will not here,
For tarying her, not half that I would feie,
And but I ſpeke I muſt for forowe deie.
Of longe fervice avaunt I me nothing,
But as poffible' is me to die to day
For wo as he that hath be languiſhing
This twenty wintre', and wel it happin may
A man may ſerve bettir and more to pay
In halfe a yere, although it were no more,
'Than fome man doth that hath fervid ful yore.
·
I fay not this by me, for I ne can
Do no ferviſe that may my lady pleſe,
But I dare fay I am her trewiſt man,
As to my dome, and fainift wolde her pleſe:
At fhortè wordis, til that dethe me cefe
I wil be hers whethir I wake or winke,
And trewe in al that hertè may bethinke.
Of al my lyfe fyth that day I was borne
So gentle ple in love or othir thinge
Ne herdin nevir no man me beforne,
Who fo that had right lefir and conninge
For to reherſe ther chere and ther ſpekynge,
And from the morowe gan this fpechè lafte
Till downward went the fonnè wondir faſte.
The noife of Foulis for to be deliverde
So loude range, Have don and let us wende,
That wel wende I the wode had all to ſhivered:
Come of, they cried; alas! ye wil us fhende ;
Whan fhal your curfid pleding have an ende?
How fhulde a judge on eithir partie leve
For ye or nay withoutin any preve?
The gofe, the cuckowe, and the ducke alſo,
So cryid Keke, keke, Cuckow, Queke, queke, hye,
Thorough myne eris the noyfe wente tho;
The gofe fayd than, Al this n'ys worthe a flye,
But I can fhape herof a remedye,
And wil yfay my vèrdite faire and fwithe
For watir Foule, who fo be wrothe or blithe.
And I for worme Foule, faid the fole cuckow,
For I wil of min owne authorite,
For common fpede, take on me the charge now
For to deliver us is grete charite,
Ye may abydin a while yet perde.
(Quod the turtel) If that it be your wil
A wight may fpeke it were as gode be ftil.
I am a fede Foule, one the unworthyef?,
That wot I wel, and the left of connynge,
But bettir is that a wight'is tonge reſt
Than entremetin him of foche doynge
Of whiche he neithir redin can nor finge,
And who fo' it doth ful foule him felf acloyeth,
For Office uncommittid ofte anoyeth.
Nature, whiche that alway yhad an ere
To murmure of the leudèneffe behinde,
With faconde voice faid, Hold your tongis there,
And I fhal fone I hope a counfaile finde
You to deliver and fro this noyfe unbynde :
I charge of every flocke ye fhall one cal
To fay the verdite of you Foulis all.
Affentid were to this conclufyon
The birdis al, and Foulis of ravine
Have chofin first by plaine election,
The tercelet of the faucon to define,
Al ther fentence, and as him luft to termine,
And to Nature him gan they to prefente,
And the acceptith him with glad entente.
The tercèlet fayd than in this manere:
Ful hard it were to preve it by reſon
Who lovith beſt this gentil formel here,
For everiche hath foche replicacion
That by fkillis may non be brought adoun;
I cannat fe that argumentes availe,
Than femith it there must be a battaile.
Al redy, quod thefe egles tercelles tho,
Nay, Sirs, (quod he) if that I durft it fay
Ye do me wronge, my tale is not ydo;
For, Sirs, ne takith nat a grefe I pray,
It may not be as ye wolde in this way;
Ours is the voice that have the charge in hande,
And to the judg'is dome ye muft yſtande;
And therfore pece: I fay as to my wit
Me woldin thinke how that the worthicft
Of knyghthode, and lengift had ufid it,
Moſt of eſtate, of blode the gentilleft,
Were fittingeft for her, if that her left,
And of theſe thre fhe wote her felfe I trowe
Whiche that he be, for it is light to knowe,
The watir Foulis have ther hedis laide
Togidir, and of fhorte avifèment
Whan evèriche had his verdite yfaide,
They faidin fothely al by one affent
How that the gofe, with the facondè gent,
That ſo defirith to pronounce our nede,
Shal tel our tale, and prayed to God her fpede.
And for theſe watir Foulis tho began
The gofe to fpekc, and in her cakelynge
She faid, Pece now, take kepc every man,
And herken whiche refon I fhal forth bring;
My witte is ſharpe; I love no tarying;
I fay I rede him, tho he were my brother,
But the wil love him let him love another.
Lo here a parfite refon of a gofe!
Tho (quod the fperhauke) nevir mote ſhe the;
Lo foche a thing it' is to have a tonge lofe!
Nowe parde fole yet were it bet for the
Have holde thy pece than fhewde thy nicetc;
It lyeth nat in his wit nor in his wil,
Put fothe is faide, A fole can not be fill.
1
1
THE ASSEMBLE OF FOULES.
497
The laughter arofe of gentil Foulis al,
And right anone the fede Foules chofin had
The turtel trewe, and gan her to 'hem call,
And prayid her to fay the fothè fad
Of this matir, and afkid what fhe rad?
And the anſwered that plainly her entent
She wolde fhewe, and fothly what the ment.
Nay, God forbede a lovir fhulde chaunge,
The turtel faid, and wexte for fhame al rede;
Though that his lady evirmore be ſtraunge,
Yet let him ferve her ay tyl he be dede;
Forfothe I ne praife not the gos'is rede,
For tho fhe dyed I wold none othir make;
I wil be hers tyl that the dethe me take
Wel ybourdid (quod the ducke) by my hat;
That men ſhouldin love alway caufèleffe
Who can a refon finde or wit in that?
Dauncith he mery that is mirthéleffe?
Who fhuldin recke of that is rechèleffe?
Ye queke yet (quod the ducke) ful wel and faire,
There be mofterres in the skye than a paire.
Nowe fye, churle! (quod the gentil tercèlet)
Out of the donghil came that word aright;
Thou canst not fe which thinge is wel befet;
Thou fareft by love as owlis do by light,
The day 'hem blindeth, ful wel they fe by night;
Thy kinde is of fo lowe a wretchidneffe
That what love is thou canst not ſe nor geffe.
Tho gan the cuckow put him forthe in prece
For Foule that etith worme, and ſayid blyve,
So I (quod he) may have my make in pece
I ne retche nought howe longe that
ye ſtrive;
Let eche of 'hem be foleine al ther lyve:
This is my rede fens they may nat acorde;
This fhorte leffon nedith not recorde.
Ye have the glutton filde inow his paunche,
Then are we wel, fayid the emerlon,
Thou murdrir of the heifugge, on the braunche,
That brought the forth, thou moft rufull glutton,
Live thou folein, wormis corrupcion !
For no force is of lacke of thy nature;
Go, leude be thou while that the world may dure!
Nowe pece (quod Nature) I commandin here,
For I have herde al your opinion,
And in effecte yet be we ner the nere ;
But, finally, this is my conclufion,
'That she her felfe fhal have her election
Of whom her lift, who ſo be wroth or blithe,
Him that the chefeth he ſhal her have as fwithe :
For fithe it may not here difcuflid be
Who loveth her beft, as faid the tercèlet,
Than wol I done this favour to' her, that fhe
Shal have right him on whom her hert is fet,
And he her that his hert hath on her knet;
This judge I Nature, for I may not lye,
To none eftate I have none othir eye.
But as for counfayle for to chofe a make,
Yf I were Refon, certis than woulde I
Counfailin you the royal tercel take,
As fayd the tercèlet ful fkilfully,
As for the gentilift and moft worthy,
Voy. I
Which I have wrought fo wel to my pleſaunce
That to you it ought ben a fuffifaunce.
With dredfull voice the formell her anfwerde;
My rightfull lady, goddeffe of Nature,
Soth is that I am er undir your yerde,
As is als' evèriche othir creture,
And muſt be yours while that my life may dure,
And therfore grauntith me my firftè bone,
And myne entent you wol I fay right fone.
I graunt it you (quod fhe.) And right anone
This formel egle ſpake in this degre;
Almighty quene! unto this yere be done
I aſke reſpite for to avyfin me,
And aftir that to have my choyce all fre:
This al and fome that I wold fpeke and fey;
Ye get no more although ye do me dey :
I wol not fervin Venus ne Cupide
Forfothe as yet by no manir of way.
Nowe fens it may none othir wayes betide
(Quod Dame Nature), here is no more to fay;
Than wolde I that theſe Foulis were away
Eche with his make for tarying lengir here,
And faid 'hem thus, as ye fhal aftir here :
To you fpeke 1, ye tercelets (quod Nature),
Bethe of gode herte, and fervith allẻ thre,
A
yere is not fo longe for to endure,
And eche of you paine him in his degre
For to do wel, for God wote quit is fhe
Fro you this yere, what aftir fo befal;
This entremes is dreffid for you all.
And whan this werk ybrought was to an ende
To every Foule Nature yave his make
By even acorde, and on ther way they wende,
And Lorde the bliffe and joye which that they make!
For ech gan othir in his wingis take,
And with ther neckis eche gan othir winde,
Thankynge aye the noble goddeſſe of Kinde.
But first were chofin Foulis for to finge,
As yere by yere was alway ther ufaunce,
To finge a roundel at ther departing,
To do to Nature honour and plefaunce;
The note I trowe ymakid was in Fraunce;
The wordis were foche as ye may here find
The nexte vers, as I nowe have in minde,
Qui bien aime tard oublie.
Now welcom fomir! with thy fonnis foft,
That hafte this wintir wethirs ovirſhake;
Saint Valentine! thou arte full hye on lofte,
Which drivift away the longe nightis blake,
Thus fingin fmalè Foulis for thy fake;
Well havin they caufe for to gladin ofte
Sens eche of 'hem recovered hath his make,
Ful blissful maie they fing when they awake,
And with the ſhouting when ther fonge was do
That the Foulis made at ther flight away
I woke, and othir bokis toke me to
'To rede upon, and yet I rede alway;
I hope ywis to redin fo fome day
That I fhal metin fome thinge for to fare
The bet, and thus to rede I n'il not fparc,
li
1 T
498
THE CUCKOWE AND THE NIGHTINGALE
OF THE
CUCKOWE AND THE NIGHTINGALE.
حية مدفعي
Chaucer dreameth that he heareth the Cuckowe and the Nightingale contend for excellency
in finging.
THE god of Love, ah, benedicite !
Howe mighty and howe gret a lorde is he!
For he can makin of lowe hertis hie,
And of hye lowe and lykè for to die,
And hardè hertis he can makin fre :
He can makin within a litil ftounde
Of fickè folkè whole, and frefle, and ſounde,
And of the whole he can ymakè feke;
He can ybindin and unbindin eke
That he wol have yboundin or unbounde.
To tel his might my wit may not fuffife,
For he can makin of wife folke ful nice,
For he may do al that he wol device,
And lithy folke to diftroyin vice,
And proude hertis he can make agrifc.
Shortly, al that evir he wol he may;
Againift him there dare no wight ſay naye,
For he can glad and greve whom him lykith,
And who that he wol he loweth or fikith,
And moſt his might he fhedith er in May;
For every true gentle herte fre,
That with him is or thinkith for to be,
Againſt May now fhal have fome fteringe,
Or to joye or ellis to fome mourning,
In no fefon fo moche, as thinkith me:
For whan that they may here the birdis finge,
And fe the flouris and the levis fpringe,
That bringith into ther remembèraunce
A manir efe ymedlid with grevaunce,
And lufty thoughtis ful of grete longing;
And of that longing comith hevineſſe,
And therof growith oft grete fikèneſſe,
And for the lacke of that that they defire;
And thus in May ben hertis fet on fire,
So that they brennin forth in gret diftreffe.
I fpeke this of feling trewily:
What! tho that I be olde and unlufty
Yet I have felte of the fickeneffe through May
Bothe hote and cold, and axis every day,
How fore iwis there wote no wight but I,
I am fo fhakin with the fevirs white
Of al this May, ne flepe I but a lite;
And alſo it is not lyke unto me
That any hertè fhouldin flepy be
In whom that Love his firy darte wol fmite.
But as I lay this othir night waking
I thought howe lovirs had a tokining,
And amonge 'hem it was a commune tale
That it were gode to here the Nightingale
Moche rathir than the leudè Cuckowe finge.
THE CUCKOWE AND THE NIGHTINGALE.
499
And than I thought anon as it was day
I wolde faine go fomwhere to affay
If that I might a Nightingale yhere,
For yet had I none herde of al that yere,
And it was tho the thirdè night of May.
And right anon as I the day afpide
No lengir would I in my bedde abide,
But unto a wodde that was me faſt by
I went forthe my ſelf alone boldily,
And helde the way downe by a broke fide.
Tyl I came to a launde of white and grene,
So faire an one had I nevir in bene;
The grounde was grene, ypoudrid with daifye,
The flouris and the grevis alike hie,
Al grene and white, was nothing ellis fene.
There fate I downe among the faire flouris,
And fawe the birdes trippe out of ther bowris
There as they reftid 'hem had al the night;
They were ſo joyful of the day'is lyght
They began of Maye for to done honouris :
They coudin wel that fervice al by rote,
And there was many a full lovely note;
Same fongin loude as they had yplained,
And fome in othir manir voice yfained,
And ſome fongin al out with the ful throte.
They proynid 'hem and madin 'hem right gay,
And daunfidin and leptin on the fpray,
And evirmore were two and two in fere,
Right fo as they had chofin 'hem to yere
In Feverere on Saint Valentine's day.
And the rivir whiche that I fat upon
It madin foche a noifè as it ron,
Accordaunt with the birdis armony,
Me thought that it was the beſt melody
That mightin ben yherde of any mon.
And for delyte, I ne wotte nevir howe,
I fel in foche a flombre and a fwowe,
Nat al aflepe ne fully awaking,
And in that fwowe me thought I herdè finge
The fory birde, I mene the leude Cuckowe,
And that was upon a tre right faſt by;
But who was than evil apaide but I?
Now God (quod I) that dyid on the crois
Yeve forowe on the and on thy leude vois!
Ful litil joye have I now of thy crie,
And as I with the Cuckow thus gan chide,
I herdin in the nextè buſh befide
A Nyghtingale ſo luftily yſinge,
That with her clerè voice fhe madin ringe,
Echoing thorough al the grene wode wide.
Ah! gode fwete Nightingale! (quod I) then,
A litil haft thou ben to longè hen,
For here hath ben the leude fory Cuckow,
And fongin fongis rathir than haft thou; ·
I pray to God that evil fire her bren!
But now I wol you tel a wondre thing;
As longe as I ylay in that fwouning,
Me thought I wift what that the birdis ment,
And what they fayd, and what was ther entent,
And of ther ſpeche I had full gode knowing.
There herdin I the Nightingale yſay,
Now, gode Cuckow! goith fome where awaye,
And let us that can fingin dwellin here,
For every wight efchevith the to here,
Thy fongis ben fo elenge, in gode fây.
What! (quod ſhe) what may the aylin as nowe ?
It thinkith me I finge as wel as thou,
For my fongè is both true and eke plaine,
And though I can not crakil fo in vaine
As thou doft in thy throte, I wot ner how.
And every wight may undirftandin me ;
But, Nightingale, fo may they not done the,
For thou haft many a nice queintè crie;
I have the herdê faine Ocy, ocy :
Howe might I knowin what that should be?
Ah, fole! (quod fhe) woſt thou not what it is?
Whan that I fay Ocy, ocy, ywys
Than menin I that I would wondre faine
That al they werin fhamfully yflaine
That menin ought againift love amis;
And alfo' I would that al tho had the dede
That thinkin not in love ther life to lede,
For who fo wol not the god of Love ferve
I dare wel fay he is worthy to fterve,
And for that ftil Ocy, ocy, I grede.
Eye! (quod the Cuckow) this is a queint lawe,
That every wight fhal love or be to draw
But I forfakin al foche company,
For myne entent ne is not for to die,
Ne ner while I live on Love's yoke to draw;
For lovirs ben the folke that ben on lyve
That moſt difefe yhave and moft unthrive,
And most endurin forow, wo, and care,
And that the left yfelin of welfare;
What nedith it ayeniſt trouth to ſtrive?
What! (quod fhe) thou art alle out of thy minde;
How might thou in thy churlineffe yfynde
To fpeke of Lov'is fervauntes in this wife ?
For in this world is none fo gode fervice
To every wight that gentle is of kinde;
I iÿ
500
THE CUCKOWE AND THE NIGHTINGALE.
1
For therof truly comith al godeneffe,
Therof al honour and al gentilneffe,
Thereof worship, efe, and al hert'is luft,
And parfite joye and ful affurid truſt,
And jolytie, and plefaunce, and freſheneffe,
And lowly hed, largeffe, and curtiſye,
And femèlyhed, and trew company,
And drede of fhame for to done amys,
For he that truily Lov'is fervaunt is
Were lothir to be fhamid than to die.
And that thys is the fothe whiche that I fey
In that beleve I wil bothe live and dey;
And, Cuckow, fo I rede thou do ywys.
Than (quod he) let me nevir havin bliffe
Yf evir I to that counfaile obcy.
Nyghtingale, thou yfpekift wondre faire,
But for al that is the foth contrayre,
For Love ne is in yongè folke but rage,
And is in olde folke a grete dotage;
Who moſt it ufith he moſt ſhal enpaire;
For therof commeth difefe and hevineffe,
So forow', and care, and many' a grete fikeneſſe,
Defpite, debate, and angre, and envy,
Depraving, fhame, untruſt, and jeloufie,
Pride, miſchefe, povertie, and wodèneffe.
Loving is aye an office of diſpaire,
And one thing is therin that is not faire,
For who that getteth of Love a litil bliffe,
But if he be alwaie therewith, iwis
He maic full fone of age yhave his haire:
And, Nightingalè, therefore held the nie,
For leve me well, for all thy queintè crie,
If thou be ferre or longe fro thy make
Thou shalt be as othir that ben forfake,
And then thou fhalt yhotin as do I.
Fie! (quod fhe) on thy name and on the,
The god of Love ne let the nevir the,
For thou art worſe a thouſandfolde than wode,
For many' one is full worthie and full gode
That had be naught ne haddin Love ibee;
For evirmore Love his fervauntes amendeth,
And from all evill tachis 'hem defendeth,
And makith 'hem to brenne right in a fire
In trouthè and in worſhipfull defire,
And when him likith joy inough 'hem fendeth.
Thou, Nightingalè, he fayid, be ſtill,
For Love have no refon but it is will,
For oft tymis untrue folke he eith
And truc folke fo bittirly difplefith
'That for defaute of courage he let 'hem ſpill.
Then toke I of the Nightingale kepe
How that ſhe caſt a ſigh out of her depe,
And faied, Alas that evir I was bore!
I can for tene not faie one wordè more;
And right with that worde fhe braft out to wepe.
Alas! (quod fhe) my hertè woll to breke,
To herin thus this leude birde fpeke
Of Love, and of his worſhipfull ſervice;
Now god of Love, thou helpe me in fome wife
That I maic on this Cuckowe ben awreke.
Me thoughtin then that he ſterte up anon,
And glad was I tho that he was agon,
And evirmore the Cuckowe as he flaie
Yfayid, Farewell, farewell, popingaie,
As though he had yfcornid me alone.
And then ycame the Nightingale to me,
And fayid, Frende, forfoth I thankè the
That thou haft likid me for to refcowe,
And one avowe to Love ymake I now,
That all this Maic I woll thy fingir be.
I thankid her, and was right well apaied.
Ye, (quod fhe) and ne be thou not diſmaied
Tho thou have herd the Cuckow erft than
For if I live it ſhall amendid be
The nextè Maie, if I be not affraied.
And one thing I woll redin the alfo,
me,
Ne leve thou not the Cuckow ne' his loves fo,
For all that he hath faied is ftrong lefyng.
Naie, (quod I) therto fhall nothyng me bryng
For love, and it hath do me mochil wo.
Ye, hath it? Ufe (quod fhe) this medicine,
Every daie this Maie or that thou dine
Go lokin upon the freſhe daïfie,
And though thou be for wo in poinct to die
That ſhall full gretly leffen the of thy pine.
And loke alwaie that thou be gode and true,
And I woll fing one of the ſongis newe
For love of the, as loude as I maie crie ;
And then ſhe began this fongè full hie,
I fhrewe all 'hem that ben of love untrue.
And when ſhe had yfong it to the ende,
Now farewell, (quod fhe) for I motè wende,
And god of Love, that can right well and may,
As mochil joyè fendè the this daie
As any yet lovir he ever fende.
Thus taketh the Nightingale her leve of me,
I praie to God alwaie with her to be,
And joye of love he fende her evirmore,
And fhilde us fro the Cuckowe and his lore
For there is not fo falfe a birde as he.
THE CUCKOWE AND THE NIGHTINGALĖ.
501
1
Forthe fhe yflewe the gentill Nightingale
To all the birdis that were in that dale,
And gate 'hem all into a place in fere,
And befoughtin 'hem that they wouldin here
Her difefe; and thus fhe began her tale :
The Cuckowe, well it is not for to hide,
How the Cuckowe and I faft havin chide
Evir fithin that it ywas daie light;
I praie you all that ye doin me right
O that foule, and falfe, and unkindè bride.
Then ſpeke o birte for all by one afſent ;
This mattir afkith gode avifèment,
For we ben alle birdis here in fere,
And fothe it is the Cuckowe is not here,
And therefore we woll have a parliment;
And thereat ſhall the egle be our lorde,
And othir peris that ben of recorde,
And the Cuckowe ſhall be aftir yſent,
And there ſhall be yevin the judgement,
Or els we ſhall finally make accorde.
And this fhall be ydone withoutin naie
The morowe aftir Sainct Valentine's daie,
Undir a maple that is faire and grene,
Before the chambir windowe of the quenc
At Wodeſtocke upon the grenè laie,
She thankid 'hem, and then her levè toke,
And flew into an hauthorne by that broke,
And there ſhe fate and fong upon that tre,
For terme of life love hath withholde me,
Bo loude, that I with that fong awoke.
O leudè boke! with thy foule rudèneſſe,
Sithe thou haft neithir beaute ne' eloquence
Who hath the caufed or yeve the hardineffe
For to appere in my ladie's prefence?
I' am ful fikir thou knowift her benevo'lence,
Full agreable to all her abiyng,
For of all gode fhe is the best livyng,
Alas! that thou ne haddift worthineffe
To fhewin to her fome plefaunt fentence,
Sith that ſhe hath thorough her gentilleffe
Acceptid the fervaunt to her digne reve'rence.
O! me repentith that I ne' had fcience
And lefir als to make the more floriſhyng,
For of all gode fhe is the beſt livyng.
Befeche her mekely with all lowlineffe,
Though that I be ferre from her in abſence,
To thinke on my trouth to' her and ſtedfaſtneffe,
And to' abridge of my forowes the viollence
Which caufed is, wherof knowith your fapience,
She like emong to notifie me' her likyng,
For of all gode fhe is the beft livyng.
L'ENNOY.
Aurore of gladneffe, daie of luftineffe,
Lucerne anight with hevenlie influence
Illumined, rote of beautie and godeneffe,
Sufpiris, whiche I effunde in filence,
Of
grace I befeche aledge let your writyng,
Now of all gode fith ye beſt livyng.
I i iij
1
502
HOW PYTE IS DEDE.'
HEREAFTER FOLOWETH
HOW PYTE IS DED E,
AND BURIED IN GENTYLE HERTE.
PITE, that I have fought fo yore ago
With hertè fore, and full of befy paine,
That in this worlde was nevir wight ſo wo
Withoutin dethe, and yf I fhal nat faine
My purpoſe was to Pitie to complaine
Upon the crueltie and tyrannye
Of Love, that for my trouth doth me to die.
And whan that I by length of certaine yeres
Had evir in one fought a time to ſpeke,
Tc Pite ran I all befpreint with teres
To prayin her on Cruelte me' a-wreke;
But or I might with any worde out breke,
Or tel her any of my painis fmerte,
I found her ded and buried in an herte.
A downe I fel whan that I ſaw the herfe
Ded as a ſtone while that the fwonne me lafte,
But up I rofe with coloure ful diverſe,
And pitoufly on her myne eyen I caft,
And nerir the corfe I gan preſin faſt,
And for the foule I fhope me for to pray;
I was but lorne; there was no more to fay.
Thus am I flaine fith that Pite is ded;
Alas that day that evir it fhulde fal!
What manir man dare nowe hold up his hed,
To whom fhal now any foro'wfull hert call,
Nowe Cruelte hath caft to fle us al,
In ydle hope folke redèleffe of paine,
Sith fhe is ded, to whom fhal we complaine?
But yet encrefith me this wondir ncwe,
That no wight wote that he is ded but I,
So many men as in her tyme her knewe,
And yet fhe dyid all fo fodainly,
For I have fought her er full befily,
Sithins that I had firftè witte or mind,
But he was ded er that I coude her find.
Aboute her herſe there ftodin luftily,
Withoutin any mo as thoughtin me,
Bountie, perfitely well armed and richely,
And freſhe Beaute, and Luft, and Jolite,
Affurid Manir, Youthe, and Honeſte,
Wifdome, Eltate, with Drede and Govirnaunce,
Confedrid both by bonde and aliaunce.
A complainte had 1 writin in my honde
To have yput to Pyte as a byl,
But I there al this company yfonde
That rathir wouldin all my caufè ſpill
Then do me help, I held my plaintè ſtill,
For to thofe folke withoutin any faile
Without Pite there maie no bill availe.
Then leave all vertues fave onely Pitie,
Keping the corfe, as ye have herd me faine,
Confedrid by bonde unto Crueltie,
And be affentid when I fhall be flaine,
And I have put my compleinte up againe,
For to my foes my bill I dare not fhewe
The' effect, which fayith thus in wordis fewe:
Humblift of herte, hyift of reverence,
Flowir benigne, coroune of vertues alle!
Shewith unto your roiall excellence
Your fervaunt, if I durftin me fo call,
His mortall harme in which he is ifall,
And nought all onely for his wofull fare
But for your renome, as he fhall declare.
It ſtandeth thus; that your contary` Crueltie
Allyid is ayenft your regalie,
Undir colour of womanly beautie,
For men fhouldin not knowe her tyrannie,
With Bountie, Gentilleffe, and Curtefie,
And hath deprivid you thus of your place,
That is hic Beaute' apertenant to your grace a
HOW
PYTE IS DEDE.
503
:
For kindly by your heritage and right
Ye be annexid evir to Bountie,
And verily ye ought to doe your might
To helpin Trouthe in his adve: fitie;
Ye be alfo the coroune of Beautie,
And certis if that ye want in theſe twaine
The worlde is lore; there is no more to faine.
Eke what availeth manir and gentileffe
Withoutin you, o moft benigne creture!
Shall Crueltie ybe your governeffe ?
Alas! what hertè maie it long endure?
Wherefore but ye rathir ytakin cure
To brekin that perillous aliaunce
Ye fleen 'hem that ben in your obeifaunce.
And furthir ovir, if ye fuffir this
All your renome is fordoe in a throwe,
There ſhall no man ywete what pitie is;
Alas that your renome is fall fo lowe!
Ye be' alfo fro your heritage ithrowe
By Crueltie, that occupieth your place,
And we difpairid that fekin your grace.
Have mercie on me, thou herenus quene,
That you have fought ſo tendirly and fore,
O let ſome ſtreame of light on me be fene,
That love and drede you er longir the more!
For, fothily to faine, I bere fo fore;
And though I be not connyng for to plaine
For God'is love have mercie on my paine.
My paine is this, that what fo I defire
That have I not, ne nothyng like thereto,
And evir fetteth defire mine herte on fire;
Eke on that othir fide, where that I go
What manir thing that may encrefe my wo
That have I redy unfought every where;
Me lackith but my deth and then my bere.
What nedith to fhewe percel of my paine,
Sith every wo that herte maie bethinke
I fuffir, and yet dare not to you plaine?
For well I wote though that I wake or winke
Ye recke not whethir that I flete or finke;
And natheleſſe yet my trouth I ſhall fufteine
Unto my deth, and that fhall well be fene :
This is to faine, that I will be yours ever,
Though ye me flea by Crueltie your fo,
Algate my fpirite fhall nevir difeevir
Fro your fervice for any paine or wo,
Sith ye be dedde, alas that it is fo!
Thus for your deth I maie wepin and plain
With herte fore and full of befie pain.
I i inj
504
VÉR SE $, &%.
Thefe Verfes next folowing were compiled by Geoff. Chaucer, and in the writen copies folowe
at the ende of The Complainte of Pite.
THE longè nyghtis, when every creture
Shuld have ther reft in fomwhat as by kind,
Or ellis ne may ther life not long endure,
It fallith mofte into my woful minde
How I fo farre have brought my felf behind,
That fafe the deth ther may nothing me liffe,
So difpairid I am from alle bliffe.
This fame thought me laftith til the morow,
And from the morowe forth til it be eve;
There nedith me no care for to borow.
For both I have gode laifir and gode leve;
There is no wight that will my wo byreve,
'To wepe enough and wailin all my fyll;
The forè fparke of peine now doth me ſpil.
This Love, that hath me fet in foche a place
That my defire he wil nevir fulfyl,
For neithir Pite, Mercy, neithir Grace.
Can I not finde,and yet my wofull herte
For to be dede I can it not arace,
The more I love the more fhe doth me fmerte,
'Thorowe whiche I fe withoute remedie
That from the deth I may no wife afterte.
Now fothly what the hight I wol reherfe;
Her name is Bountie, fet in womanhed,
Sadnes in youth, and beautie pridèleffe,
And plefaunce undir govirnaunce and drede,
Ar her furname is eke faire Ruthèleffe,
The wife knit unto gode avinture,
That for I love her the fleth me giltleffe;
Her love I beft, and fhall while I may dure;
Bett than my felfe a hundrid thouſand dele,
Than al this world'is richis or creture;
Now hath not Love me beſtowid wel,
To lovin there I nevir fhal have parte?
Alas, right thus is turnid me the whele!
Thus am I flaine with Lov'is furious darte?
I can but love her beſt my fwetè ſo,
Love hath me taught no more of his arte
But fervin alwaye and ſtint for no wo.
Within my trewè carefull herte ther is
So mochil wo and eke fo litil bliffe
That wo is me that evir I was bore!
For al that thinge which I defire I miffe,
And al that evir I wolde not iwis
That finde Iredy to me evirmore;
And of all this I n'ot to whom me plaine,
For fhe that might me out of this ybring
Ne rechith nought whethir I wepe or fing,
So litil routh hath fhe upon my paine!
Alas! whan flepinge tyme is then I wake,
Whan I fhuld daunce for fere lo than I quake;
This hevy life I lede, lo! for your fake,
Though ye therof in no wife hede take,
Myn hert'is lady and whole my live's quene
For truly durft I fay as that I fele
Me femith that your fwete herte of ftele
Is whettid now againiſt me to kene.
My dere herte and beſt belovid fo!
Why lykith you to do me al this wo?
What have I don that grevith you, or ſaide ?
But for I ferve and love you and no mo,
And whileft I live I wil cvir do fo,
And therfore, fwete! ne bethe not il apaide;
For fo gode and fo faire as that ye be
It wer a right gret wondir but had
Of al fervauntis both of gode and badde,
And beft worthy of al them I am hc.
3
ye
J
VERSE S, &c.
jos
But nevir the leffe, my righte lady fwete!
Though that I be unkonninge and unmete
To ferve as I coud beft aye your highnes,
Yet is ther none fainir, that would I hete,
Than I to do you efe or ellis bete,
What fo I wift that were to your highnes;
And had I might as gode as I have wil,
Than fhould ye fele wher it were fo or none,
For in this world livinge than is ther none
That fainir wolde your hert'is wil fulfil,
For both I love and eke drede you ſo fore,
And algates mote and have don you ful yore,
That bettir loyed is none ne nevir fhal,
And yet I would befeche you of no more
But lovith wel, and be not wroth therfore,
And let me ferve you forth, lo! this is al;
For I am nought ſo hardy ne fo wode
For to defire that ye fhould lovin me,
For wel I wotte, alas! that may not be,
I am fo litil worthy' and ye fo gode,
For ye be one the worthyift on live,
And I the moſt unlikely for to thrive.
Yet for al this wetith ye ful righte wel
That ye ne ſhould me from your fervyce drive,
That I ne wil ayc with my witis five
Serve you truly what wo fo that I fele;
For I am ſet ſo hy upon your whele
That though ye nevir wil upon me rew
I must you love, and bene evir as trewe
As any man ycan or maye on live.
But the more that I love you, godely fre!
The laffè finde I that ye lovin me;
Alas! whan fhal that harde wit amende?
Wher is now al your womanly pite,
Your gentilnes and your debonairte?
Wil ye nothinge therof upon me ſpend,
And fo whole, fwete! as I am youris all,
And fo grete wil as I have to you ſerve?
Now certis and ye let me thus yfterve
Yet have ye wonnin therupon but ſmall,
For at my knowing I do nothing why :
And thus I wil befeche you hertily,
That if evir ye finde whilis ye live
A truir fervaunte to you than am f,
Levith than, and fleith me hardily,
And I my deth to you wil al forgive;
And yf ye finde no trewir verily,
Wollin ye fuffir than that I thus fpil,
And for no manir gilt but my gode will?
As gode were than untrue as true to be.
ہو
L
506
GODE COUNSAILE OF CHAUCER,
7
GODE COUNSAILE OF CHAUCER.
FLIE fro the preef and dwell with fothfaftneffe; | Strive not as doith a crocke with a walle;
;
Suffife unto thy gode though it be ſmall,
For horde hath hate, and climbyng tikilneffe,
Prece hath envie, and wele is blent oer all;
Savour no more than the behoven ſhall
Rede well thy felf, that othir folke canft rede,
And trouthe the fhall delivir it' is no drede.
Paine the not eche crokid to redreffe
In truft of her that tourneth as a balle;
Grete reft ftandith in litil buſineſſe;
Beware alſo to ſpurne again a nalle ;
Demith thy felf that demist othir's dede,
And trouthe the fhall deliver it 'is no drede.
That the is fent receve in buxomeneſſe;
The wraftlyng of this worlde afkith a fall;
Here is no home, here is but wildirneffe;
Forthe pilgrim, forthe o beft out of thy ſtall;
Loke up on high, and thanke thy God of all;
Weivith thy lufte and let thy ghoft the lede,
And trouthe the fhall delivir it' is no drede.
}
CHAUCER'S A, B, C.
507
1
CHAUCER'S A, B, C.
CALLED LA PRIERE DE NOSTRE DAME.
Chaucer's A, B, C, called La Priere de noftre Dame, made, as fome fay, at the requeſt
of Bianch Ducheffe of Lancaster, as a praier for her private ufe, being a woman in
her religion very devout.
A.
ALMIGHTIE and allmerciable Quene!
To whom all this world fleith for foccour,
To have releſe of finne, of forow, of tene,
Glorious Virgine! of all flouris flour,
To the I fle, confoundid in errour;
Helpe and releve, almightie debonaire!
Have mercy of mine perillous langour,
Venquift me hath my cruill adverfaire.
B.
Bountie fo fixe hath in my hert his tent,
That well I wote thou will my fuccour be;
Thou canst not warnin that with gode entent
Axith thyne helpe, thine hert is aye fo fre,
Thou art largeffe of plaine felicite,
Havin and refute of quiete and reſt;
Lo how that thevis fevin chafin me;
Helpe, Ladie bright! or that mine ſhip to breft.
C.
Comfort is none but in you, Lady dere!
For lo mine finne and mine confufioun,
Which ought not in thin prefence for to' apere,
Han taken on me a grevous actioun,
Of veray right and difperatioun,
And as by right they mightin well fuſtene
That I were worthy mine damnatioun,
Ne were it of thy mercy, blifefull Quene!
D.
Dout is there none, o Queue of miſe’ricord!
That thou n'art caufe of grace and mercy here,
God vouchidefafe through the with us to' accord;
For certis, Chrift'is blifsfull modir dere!
Were now the bow ybent in fwiche manere
As it was firſt of juſtice and of ire,
The rightfull God would of no mercy here;
But through the han we grace as we defire.
E.
Ever' hath mine hope of refute in the be,
For here beforne full oft in many' a wife
Unto mercy haft thou recevid me,
But mercy, Lady! at the gret affife,
When we ſhall come before the High Juftife,
So litil freut ſhall then in me ben found
That but thou or that day correctin me
Of very right mine werke will me confound.
F.
Flying I fle for fuccour to thine tent,
Me for to hide fro tempeft full of drede,
Befeking you that ye you not abfent,
Though I be wicke: o help yet at this nede!
All have I ben a beft in wit and dede,
Yet, Lady! thou me cloſe with thine owne grace;
Thine enemie and mine (Lady, take hede)
Unto mine deth in point is me to chaſe.
G.
Gracious maid and modir! which that never
Were bittir nor in erth nor in the fe,
But full of fweteneffe and of mercy ever,
Helpe, that mine Fadir be not wroth with me
208
CHAUCER's A, B, C.
Speke thou, for I ne dare him not yſe:
So have I done in erth, alas the while!
That certis but if thou mine fuccour be
To finke eterne he will mine ghoft exile.
H.
He vouchidefafe, tell him, as was his will,
Become a man as for our alliaunce,
And with his blode he wrote that blifsful bill
Upon the croffe as generall acquitaunce
To every penitent in full cryaunce;
And therefore, Lady bright! thou for us prey,
Then fhalt thou ſtentin allè his grevaunce,
And maken our foe to faylin of his prey.
I.
I wote well thou wilt ben our fuccour,
Thou art fo full of bountie in certaine,
For when a foulè fallith in errour
Thine pitie goeth and halith him againe,
Then makiſt thou his pece with his Soverain,
And bringift him out of the crokid ftrete:
Whofo the lovith fhall not love in vaine,
That ſhall he find as he the life fhall lete.
K.
Kalendiris enluminid ben they
That in this world ben lightid with thine name,
And who fo goith with the the right wey
Him dar not dredin in foule to ben lame.
Now Quene of comfort! fith thou art the ſame
To whom I fechin for my medicine,
Let not mine fo no more mine wound entame,
Mine hele into thine hond all I refine.
L.
Lady! thine forrow can I not portrey
Undir the croffe, ne his grevous pennaunce;
But for your bothis peine I you do prey
Let not our aldir fo make his boftaunce
That he hath in his leftis, with mifchaunce!
Convict that that ye both han bought fo dere:
As I faid erft, thou ground of all fubftaunce!
Continue' on us thin pitous eyin clere.
M.
Moyfes, that faw the bofh of flambis rede
Brenning, of which then nevir a ſticke brend,
Was figue of thine unwemmid maidinhede;
Thou art the both on which there can defcend
The Holy Ghoft, the which that Moyfes wend
Had ben on fire; and this was in figure;
Now Lady! fro the fire us defend
Which that in hell eternally fhall dure.
N.
Noble Princeffe! that nevir haddiit pere,
Certis if any comfort in us be
That cominith of the, Chriſtis modir dere!
We han none othir melodie ne gle
Us to rejoyce in our adverfite,
Ne advocat that will and dare fo prey
For us, and that for as lite hire as ye,
That helpin for an Ave'mary or twey.
0.
O very light of cyin tho ben blind!
O very luft of labour and diftreffe!
O treforere of bountie to mankind!
The whom God chefe to moder for humbleffe,
From his ancille he made the maiſtèreffe
Of heven and erth, our bill up for to bede,
This world awatith ay on thine godenes,
For thou ne failed'eft nevir wight at nede.
P.
Purpoſe I have fometime for to enquere
Wherefore and why the Holy Ghoſt the ſought;
When Gabriel's voice come to thine ere
He not to werre us ſwich a wondir wrought,
But for to fave us that he fithin bought;
Then nedith us no wepon us to ſave,
But onely there we did not as us ought
Do penitence, and mercy afke and have.
Quene of comfort! right when I me bethinke
That I agiltid have both him and the,
And that mine foule is worthy for to finke,
Alas! I caitife, whedir fhall I fle?
Who fhall unto thine fonne mine menè be?
Who but thine felfe, that art of pitie well?
Thou haft more routh on our adverfite
'Than in this world might any tonguè tell.
R.
Redreffe me, modir! and eke me chaſtiſe,
For certainly my Fadir's chaftifing
Ne dare I not abidin in no wife;
So hideous is his full reckining.
Modir! of whom our joy began to fpring,
Be
ye mine judge and cke my foul'is lech,
For ay in you is pitie abounding
To each that will of pity you befech.
S.
Soth is that he ne grauntith no pite
Withoutin the, for God of his godeneffe
Forgivith none but it like unto the :
He hath the made vicaire and maiftèrefle
Of all this world, and eke govirnerefle
Of hevin, and repreffith his juftife
Aftir thine will, and therefore in witneſſe
He hath the crownid in fo royall wife.
T.
Temple devout! ther God chefe his wonning,
Fro which thefe mifbeleved deprivid ben,
To you mine foulè penitent I bring;
Receve me, for I can no ferthir fleen.
With thornis venemous, o hevin Quene!
For which the erth accurfid was full yore,
I ani fo woundid, as ye may well fene,
That I am loft almoft, it fmert fo fore.
V.
Virgine! that art fo noble of apparaile,
That ledift us into the highè toure
Of Paradife, thou me wife and counfaile
How I may have thy grace and thy fuccour,
All have I ben in filth and in errour :
Lady! on that countrey thou me adjourne
That clepid is thine bench of frefhe flour,
There as that mercy evir fhall fojourne.
X.
Xpen thine fonne, that in this world alight
Upon a croffe to fuffir his paflioun,
And fuffred eke that Longeus his hert pight,
And made his hert'is blodè renne adoun,
And all this was for my falvatioun;
And I to him am fals and cke unkind,
CHAUCER'S A, B, C.
30)
:
And yet he will not mine dampnatioun;
This thanke I you, fuccour of all mankind!
Y.
Yfaac was figure of his deth certaine,
That fo ferreforth his fadir would obey
That him ne rought nothing for to be flaine;
Right fo thy fonnè lift a lambe to dey:
Now Lady full of mercy! I you prey,
Sith he his mercy furid me fo large,
Be ye not fcant, for all we fing or fay,
That ye ben fro vengeaunce alway our targe.
Z.
Zacharie you clepith the opin well
That wifht his finfull foule out of his guilt,
Therefore this leffoun out I will to tell,
That n'ere thine tendir hert we werin fpilt.
Now Lady bright! fith that thou canst and wilt,
Ben to the fede of Adam merciable;
Bring us unto that paleis that is built
To penitents, that ben to mercie able.
}
1
510
ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE.
1
OF QUE NE
ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE.
Arcite, a Theban knight, forfaketh Queen Annelida, who loved him entirely, and taketh
a new lady, whereupon Annelida maketh this great complaint.
O
THOU fiers god of Armis, Mars the Rede,
That in thy froftie countrey callid Thrace
Within thy grifly templis full of drede
Honourid art as patrone of that place,
With the Bellona, Pallas full of grace,
Be prefent, and my fong continue' and gie;
At my beginnyng thus to the I crie.
For it full depè is fonkin in mynde
With pitous herte in Englifhe to endite
This olde ftorie, in Latine whiche I finde,
Of Quene Annelida and falfe Arcite,
That elde, whiche all thingis can frete and bite,
And it hath fretin many' à noble ſtorie,
Hath nigh devourid out of our memorie.
Be favourable' cke thou Polymnia,
On Parnaffus that with thy fuftirs glade
By Helicon, and not ferre from Cirrha,
Singift with voice memoriall in the fhade,
Undir the laurir, which that maie not fade,
And doe that I my fhip to havin winne :
Firſt followe' I Stace, and aftir him Corinne.
Jamque domos patrias, Scythicæ poft afpera gentis
Pralia, laurigero fubeuntem Thefea curru
Lætifici plaufus, miffufque ad fidera vulgi, Sc.
When Thefeus with warris long and grete
The afpre folke of Scythe hath ovircome,
The laurir crounid, in his chaire golde bete
Home to his countre houfis is icome,
For whiche the peple blisfull all and fome
So cridin that to the fterris it went,
And hym to honourin did all ther entent.
Before this duke in figne of victorie
The trompis come, and in his banir large
The' image of Mars; and in token' of glorie
Men mightin fe of trefure many' a charge,
Many' a bright helme, and many' a fpere and targe,
Many' a freſhe knight, and many' a blisfull rout
On horfe and fote, in all the field about.
Hyppolyta his wife, the hardie Quene
Of Scythia, that he conquerid had,
With Emelie her youngè fuftir fhene,
Faire in a charc of golde he with him lad,
That al the ground about her chare ſhe ſprad
With brightneffe of the beautie in her face,
Fulfillid all of largeffe and of grace.
With his triumph and laurir corouned thus
In all the floure of Fortun'is yevyng
Lete I this noble prince, this Thefeus,
Toward Athenis in his waie ridyng,
And fonde I woll in fhortly for to bryng
The flie waic of that I began to write
Of Quene Annelida and falfe Arcite.
Mars, that through his furious courſe of ire,
The olde wrathe of Juno to fulfill,
Hath fet the peplis hertis bothe on fire
Of Thebes and Grece everich othir to kill
With blodie fperis, reftid nevir ſtill,
But throng now here now there emong 'hem both
That everiche othir flue, fo were thei wroth:
For when Amphiorax and Tydeus,
Hippomedon and Parthenope' alfo
Werc dedde, and flain was the proude Capaneus,
ANNELIDA
FALSE ARCIT E.
AND
And when the wretchid Thebans brethrin two
Were flain, and Kyng Adraftus home ago,
So defolate ftode Thebis and fo bare
That no wight could remedie of his care.
And when that the old Creon gan efpic
How that the blode roiall was brought adoun
He helde the cite by his tyrannie,
And did the gentils of that regioun
To ben his frendis and dwell in the toun;
So what for love of him, and what for awe
The noble folke were to the toune idrawe,
Emong all thefe Annelida the Quenc
Of Ermonic was in that toune dwellyng,
That fairir ferre was than the fonne fhene;
Throughout the worlde fo gan her name to fpryng,
That her to fe had every wight likyng,
For as of trouthe ne is there none her liche
Of all the women in this worlde riche.
Yong was this quene, of twentic yeris olde,
Of middle ftature, and of foche faireneffe
That Nature had a joye her to beholde;
And for to ſpekin of her ſtedfaſtneffe,
She paflid hath Penelope' and Lucreffe;
And, fhortlie, if the fhall ben comprehended,
In her there mightin nothyng ben amended.
This Theban knight Arcite eke, fothe to faine,
Was yong, and therwithal a luftie knight,
But he was double' in love and nothing plaine,
And fubtil in that crafte cvre' any wight,
And with his connyng wan this ladie bright,
For fo ferforthe he gan her trouth affure
That the hym truftith o'er any creture.
What fhould I faine? fhe lovith Arcite fo
That when that he was abfent any throwe
Anone her thought her hertè braft a two,
For in her fight to her he bare hym lowe,
So that she wende have all his herte iknowe;
But he was falfe, it n'as but fainid chere,
As nedith not foche craftis men to lere.
But nertheleffe full mikill buſineſſe
Had he er that he might his ladie winne,
And fwore that he would dyin for diftreffe
Or from his witte he fayid he would twinne;
Alas the while! for it was routhe and finne
That the upon his forowis would rue;
But Nothing thinkith the falſe as doth the true.
Her fredome found Arcite in foche manere
That al was his that ſhe hath, moche or lite,
Ne to no manir creture made ſhe chere
Furthir then as it likid to Arcite;
Ther was no lack with which he might her wite;
She was fo ferforthe yevin him to plele
That al that likid hym did her to efe.
There n'as to her no manir lettir fent,
That touchid love, from any manir wight,
That ſhe ne fhewid hym or it was brent,
So plain fhe was, and dyd her full might
That ſhe n'ill hidin nothyng from her knight,
Left he of any untrouthe her upbreide;
Withoutin bode his hertè fhe obeide.
And eke he made hym jelous ovir her,
That what that any man had to her faied
Anon he would yprayin her to ſwere
What was that worde, or make him ill apaied;
Then wenid fhe out of her witte have braied :
But all was nought but fleight and flattirie ;
Withoutin love he fainid jeloufie.
And all this toke the fo debonairly
That al his wil her thought it fkilful thyng,
And er the lengir loved hym tendirly,
And did hymn honour as he were a kyng;
Her herte was to hym weddid with a ryng,
For fo ferforthe on trouthe is her entent
That where he goith her hert with him went.
Whan fhe fhal ete on him is fo her thought
That wel unnethis of mete toke ſhe kepe,
And whan that fhe was to her reft ybrought
On him fhe thought alway tyl that the flepe,
Whan he was abfent prively dothe fhe wepe:
Thus liveth faire Annelida the Quene
For falfe Arcyte, that dyd her al this tene.
This falfe Arcyte, of his newfangleneffe,
For fhe to him fo lowly was and trewe,
Ytoke leffe deints for her ftedfaftenefle,
And fawe anothir lady proude and newe,
And right anon he clad him in her hewe,
Wote I not whethir in white, red, or grene,
And falfid faire Annelida the Quene.
But nerthèleffe, grete wondir was it none
Though he were falfe, for it' is the kinde of man
Sithe Lamech was, that is fo longe agone,
To be in love as falfe as er he can;
He was the firflè fathir that began
To lovin two, and was in bigamie,
And he founde tentis first but yf men lye:
This falfe Arcite fomwhat muſt he nede faine
Whan he was falfe to coveren his traitourie,
Right as an horfe that can both bite and plaine,
For he bare her in honde of trechirie,
And fwore he coude her doubleneffe efpye,
And al was falfeneffe thar fhe to him ment;
Thus fwore this thefe, and forth his way he went.
Alas! what hertê might endurin it
For routhe or wo her forowe for to tel,
Or what man hath the conning or the wit,
Or what man might within the chambre dwel,
If I to him reherfin fhall the hel
That fuffrith faire Annelida the Quene,
For falfe Arcite, that did her al this tene?
She wepith, wailith, wounith, pitouſly;
To grounde as ded the fallith as a ftone;
She crampifhith her limmis crokidly;
She fpekith as her witte were al agone;
Othir colour than afhin hath fhe none,
Ne none othir worde fpekith fhe moch or lite
But Mercy, cruil bertè min, drcite!
And thus endureth til that fhe was fo mate
That the ne' hath fote on which the may fuftene,
But forth languifhing er in this eftate,
Of whiche Arcite hath neithir rothe ne tene;
His herte was ellifwhere fette new and grene,
That on her wo ne deineth him not to think;
Him reckith ner whethir fhe flete or finke.
This newe lady holdith him fo narowe
Up by the bridil at the ftav'is ende,
That every worde he dred it is as an arowe;
Her daungir made him bothè bowe and bende,
512
FALSE ARCITE.
ANNELIDA AND
And as her lufte madin him turne or wende,
For fhe ne grauntid him in her living.
No grace why that he hath thereof to finge,
But drove him forth; unneth lift her to knowe
That he was fervaunt to her ladyship,
Alas where is become your gentillneffe,
Your wordes full of plefaunce and humbleneffe,
Your obfervaunce in fo lowe a manere,
Your awaitinge, and eke your befineffe,
that ye the callid your maiſtreffe,
On me,
But lefte that he were proude ſhe held him lowe; Your fovèraine lady in this worlde here?
Thus fervith he withoutin mete or fip;
She fente him nowe to lande and nowe to fhip,
And for the yave him daungir al his fil
Therfore fhe had him at her ownè wil.
Enfample' of this, ye thriftie women al,
Take hede of Annelida' and falfe Arcite,
That for her lift him her dere hertè call,
And was fo meke, therefore he loved her lite;
The kinde of mann'is herte is to delite
On thing that ſtraunge is, al fo God me fave,
For what they may not get that wold they have.
Now turne we to Annelida ayen,
That pinith day by day in languiſhing;
But whan fhe fawe that her ne gate no geyn,
Upon a day ful foro'wfully weping
She cast her for to make a complaining,
And with her ownè hande fhe gan it write,
And fente it to her Theban knight Arcyte.
The Complaint of Annelida to falfe Arcite.
So thirlid with the point of remembraunce
The fwerde of forowe, whette with falfe plefaunce,
Myne hertè bare of bliffe and black of hewe,
That turnid is to quaking all my daunce,
My fewertye in wapid countinaunce,
Sens it availith nothing to ben trewe,
For who ſo trewe is certes it fhall her rewe
That fervith Love, and dothe her obfervaunce
Alway to one, and chaungith for no newe.
I wote my felfe as well as any wight,
For I loved one with al min hert and might,
More than my ſelf an hundred thouſande fith,
And callid him my hert'is lyfe, my knight,
And was al his as ferre as it was right,
And whan that he was glad than was I blythe,
And his difefe ywas my dethe as (withe,
And he ayen his trouthe hath to me plight
For evirmore his lady me to kithe.
Now is he falfe, alas! and caufèles,
And of my wo he is fo routhèles
That with a worde him lift not onis daine
To bring ayen my forowful herte in pecs,
For he is caught up in an othir lees;
Right as hym lyft he laughith at my paine,
And I ne can min hertè not reftraine
For to love him yet alway nertheles,
And of all this I n'ot to whom to plaine.
And ſhulde 1 plain, alas the hardè ſtounde!
Unto my foe that yave myn herte a wounde,
And yet defirith that myne harme be more?
Now certis ferthir woll I nevir founde
None othir helpe my foris for to founde,
My Deſtiny hath fhapid fo ful yore,
I woll none othir medècyne ne lore,
I woll ben aye there I was onis bounde,
That I have faid be faid for evirmore.
Alas! is there now neithir worde ne chere
Ye vouchfafin upon myn hevineffe?
Alas! your love I bye it al to dere!
Now certis, fwete Arcitè! though that ye
Thus caufèleffe the rufull cauſe ybe
Of all my pyne and dedly' adverſite,
Your manly treafoun ought it to reſpite
To fle your fothefaft frende, and namely me,
Whiche that have nevir yet in no degre
Offendid you in ought, as wiſly he
That all thinges wote of wo my foulè quite,
But for I was fo plain to the Arcite
In all my wordes and workis moche and lite,
And was fo befy aye you to delite,
Myne honour only fave, meke, kinde, and fre,
Therefore, Arcite, ye put in me this wite:
Alas! alas! ye rechin not a mite
Though that the percing ſwerde of forow byte
My woful hert thorough your cruilte.
My fwetè foe! why do ye fo for ſhame?
And thinkin ye that furthered be your name
To lovin a newe and ben untrewe aye,
And putin you in flaundir nowe and blame,
And do to me adverfyte and grame
That love you moft, God thou wotiſt alwaye?
Yet turne ayen, and yet be plaine fome daye,
And then ſhall this that now is mis ben game,
And al forgevin whilis I lyve maye.
Lo, hertè myne al this is for to faine,
As whethir fhal I praye or ellis plaine?
Which is the way to done you to be trewe?
For eithir mote I have you in my chaine
1
Or with the deth ye mote depart us twayne,
There beth none othir mene ne wayis newe,
For God fo wyfely on my foulè rewe
As verily ye flaine me with the paine,
That mowe ye fe unfainid on mine hewe.
For thus ferforth have I my deth yfought,
My felfe I murdir with my privie thought;
For forowe' and routhe of your unkindèneſſe
I wepe, I waile, I faſt; al helpith naught;
I voide alle joy that is to ſpeak of aught,
I voide alle company, I flye gladneſſe;
Who may avaunt her bet of hevineffe
Than I and to this plite have me ye brought
Withoutin gilte; me nedith no witneffe.
And fhoulde I pray and weivin womanhede ?
Nay, rathir deth than do fo foule a dede;
And aſke mercy and giltèleffe? what nede?
And if that I complaine what life I lede
You reckith not, that know I out of drede;
And if I unto you mine othis bede.
For mine excufe, a ſcorne ſhal be my mede;
Your chere yflourith but it woll not fede;
Ful longe agon I might have takin hede:
For though I had you to morowe againę
I might as well hold Aprilis from raine
As holdin you to makin you fledfaſt:
ANNELIDA AND
311
FALSE ARCITE.
Almyghty God! of trouthe the fovèraine,
Wher is the trouth of man? who hath it flaine?
She that 'hem lovith fhall 'hem finde as faſt
As in a tempeft is a rottin maſt.
Is that a tame beft that is evir faine
To renne away when he is left agaſt?
Nowe mercy, fwete Arcite! if I miffay;
Whethir have I aught faid out of the way
I n'ut; my witte is waftid al away:
I fare as doth the fonge of chantepleure,
For nowe I plaine and nowe agen I pley;
I am fo mafid that I dey, I dey;
Arcite, Arcite, hath born away the key
Of al my wele and my gode avinture:
For in this world there ne is no creture
Walking, alas! in more difcomfiture
Than I, ne that more forowe doth endure,
For yf I flepe a furlonge way or twey
Than thinkith me anon that your figure
Suppliant before me ftante clad in aſure,
Redy efte to profre a newe affure
For to ben trewe, and mercy me to prey.
The longè night this wondir fyght I drie,
That on the day for foche affray I dye;
VOL. I.
And of al this right naught iwys ye retche;
Ne nevirmore myne eyin two ben drye;
And to your routhe and to your trouthe I crye, i
But wel away! to ferre ben they to fetche:
Thus holdith me my Deſtiny a wretche;
But me to rede out of this drede or gye
Ne may my wit (ſo weke is it) not ſtretche.
Than ende I thus, fithe I may do no more,
I yeve it up for nowe and evirmore,
For I fhall nevir efte putten in balance
My fikirneſs, ne lerne of love the lore,
But as the fwan, I have herde fay ful yore,
Ayenſt his deth wol fing in his penance,
So finge I here the deftinie and chaunce
Howe that Arcite Annelida fo fore
Hath thrillid with the poynt of remembraunce
Whan that Annelida, this woful Quene,
Hath of her hande ywrittin in this wife,
With face all dede, betwixin pale and grene,
She fel a fwoune, and fithe fhe gan to rife,
And unto Mars avowith facrifife
Within the temple, with a forowfull chere,
That ſhapin was as ye may plainly here.
Kk
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THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACKE KNIGHT.
THE COMPL
COMPLAINT
OF THE BLACKE KNIGHT.
The heavy Complaint of a knight for that he can not win his lady's grace.
N Maie, when Flora the frefhe luftie quenc
The foile hath cladde in grene, and red, and whight,
And Phoebus gan to ſhede his ftremis fhene
Amidde the Bulle with al the bemis bright,
And Lucifer to chace awaie the night,
Ayen the morowe our orizont hath take
To bid all lovirs out of flepe awake,
And hertis hevie for to recomforte
From drerihed of hevie night'is forowe,
Nature bad 'hem rife, and 'hem diſporte
Ayen' the godelie and the glad greie morowe,
And hope alfo, with Sainct Ihon to borowe,
Bad in deſpite of daungir and diſpaire
For to takin the wholfome luftie aire;
And with a figh I gan for to abreide
Out of my flombre`, and fodainly up fterte,
As he (alas) that nigh for forowe deide,
My fikèneffe fate aye fo nie my herte,
But for to findin foccour of my fmerte,
Or at the left fome relefe of my paine,
"That me fo fore yhalte in every veine.
I rofe anone, and thought I wouldè gone
Into the wodde to here the birdis fyng
When that the miftie vapour was agone,
And cleare and faire ywas the morownyng,
The dewe alſo like filvir in fhinyng
Upon the levis, as any baume fwete,
'Till firie Titan with his perfaunt hete
Had dryid up the luftie licour newe
Upon the herbis in the grenè mede,
And that the floures of many divers hewe
Upon ther ſtalkis gonin for to fprede,
And for to fplaie out ther levis in brede
Againe the fonne, golde burnid in his ſpere,
That doun to 'hem yeaſt his bemis clere.
And by a rivir forthe I gan coftic
Of watir clere as birell or criſtall,
Till at the laſt I founde a little weie
Toward a parke, enclofid with a wall,
In compace rounde, and by a gatè fmall:
Who fo that would he frelie mightin gonc' {
Into this parke, ywallid with grene ftone:
And in I went to here the birdis fong,
Which on the braunchis both in plain and vale
So loude yfang that all the wode yrong
Like as it fhould fhivir in pecis fmale,
And as methoughtin that the nightingale
With fe great might her voice began out wreſt
Right as her harte for love would all to breft.
The foile was plain and fmoth, and wondir foft,
All overfprad with tapettes that Nature
Had made her felf, covirid eke aloft
With bowis grene, the flouris for to cure,
That in their beautie thei maie long endure
From all affaulte of Phoebus fervent fere,
Whiche in his ſphere fo hotte yfhone and clere.
The aire attempre, and the fmothe winde
Of Zephyrus emong the blofomes white
So wholfome was and nourishing by kinde,
That fmale buddis and round blofomis lite
In maner gan of her brethe to delite,
To yeve us hope that there fruit fhall ytake
Ayenift autumpne redy for to ſhake.
I fawe the Daphne clofid undir rinde,
With the grene laurir and the wholfome pine,
The Mirre alſo, that wepith ever' of kinde,
The cedris hie, as upright as a line,
The filbert eke, that lowe doith encline
Her bowis grene unto the yerth adoun
Unto her knight callid Demophoon,
THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACKE KNIGHT.
415"
There fawe I growing eke the freſhe hauthorne
In white motley, that fo fote doeth yfmell,
Afhe, firre, and oke, with many a yong acorn,
And many a tre mo then I can tell,
And me beforne I faw a little well,
That had his courſe, as I could wele beholde,
Undir an hill, with quicke ſtremis and colde,
The gravill gold, the watir pure as glaſſe,
The bankis rounde the well invironing,
And ſoft as velvet was the yongè graſſe
That thereupon luftilie came ſpringyng,
The fute of trees aboutin compaffyng
Ther fhadowe caft, clofyng the wel arounde,
And all the herbis growyng on the grounde.
The water was fo wholfome and fo vertuous
Through might of herbis growyng it befide,
Not like to the welle where as Narciffus
Iflain was through the vengeaunce of Cupide,
Where fo wondir covertly he did hide
The grain of deth upon eche fatal brinke
That deth mote folo ve who that ever drinke;
Ne like unto the pitte of the Pegace
Undir Parnaffus, where poëtis flept,
Nor like to the welle of
pure chaſtitè
Which that Diana with her nymphis kept,
When the nakid into the watir lepte,
That flowe Acteon with her handis fell,
Onily for he came fo nigh the well :
But this welle which that I now here rcherſe
So wholfome was that it wouldin afwage
Wightes bollin hertis, and the venim perce
Of Penfifehed, withall the cruill rage,
And ovir more refreſhin the viſage
Of them that were in any werinelle
Of grete labour, or fallin in diſtreſſe.
And I that had through daungir and difdain
So drie a thurst, thought that I would affaie
To taſtin a draught of this welle or twain,
My bittir langour if it might alaie,
And on the banke anone me doune I laie,
And with mine hed unto the welle 1 raught,
And of the watir dranke I a gode draught,
Whereof me thought I was refreſhid wele
Of the brennyng that fate fo nigh my herte,
That verily anone I gan to fele
An hugè parte relefid of my fmerte,
And therewithall anone up I afterte,
And thought that I would walkin and fe more
Forthe in the parke and in the holtis hore.
And thorough a launde as I yede apace,
And gan aboutin faſt for to beholde,
I founde anone a delectable place
That was befet with treis young and olde,
Whofe namis here for me fhal not be tolde,
Amidde of whiche there ftode an herbir grene
That benchid was with coloures new and clene.
This herbir was all full of flouris gende,
Into the whiche as I beholde began,
Betwixt an hulfere and a wodè bende,
As I was ware, I fawe where laie a man
In blacke, and of white colour pale and wan,
And wondir dedly alfo of his hewe,
Of hurtis grene and freſhè woundis newe,
And ovirmore diftrainid with fickneffe
Befide all this he was full gravouſie,
For upon hym he had an hote acceffe
That daie by daie hym fhoke ful pitouflie,
So that for conſtraint of his maladie
And hertely wo, thus lying all alone,
It was a deth for one to here hym grone.
Whereof aftoined, my fote I gan withdrawe,
Full gretly wondiring what it might be
That he fo laye and haddin no felawe,
Ne that I coude no wight with him yſe,
Wherof I had grete routhe and eke pite,
And gan anone, fo foftely as I coude,
Amonge the bufhis prively me to ſhroude,
If that I myght in any wife efpie
What was the caufe of this his dedly wo,
Or why that he fo pecoufly gan crie
On his fortune, and on his ure alſo;
With all my myght I layid an ere to
Every worde, to marke wel what he faide
Out of his fwough anon as he abraide.
But firſt, if I fhulde makin mencion
Of his perfone, and plainly him difcrive,
He was in fothe, without excepcion,
To fpeke of manhode one of the best on live,
There may no man ayen the trouth ytrive,
For of his time and of his age alſo
He provid was there men fhuld have ado.
One of the best therto of brede and length,
So wel ymade by gode proporcion,
If he had be in his delivir ftrength,
But thought and fickneffe were occafyon
That he thus lay in lamentacyon
Grouffe on the grounde, in place fo defolate,
Sole by him felf, awhapid and amate.
And for me femith that it is fitting
His wordis al to put in remembraunce,
To me that herdin all his complaining,
And al the grounde of this his woful chaunce,
If there withall I maye you do plefaunce,
I wol to you ſo as I can anone,
Lyke as he faide, reherce everichone.
But who fhal helpin me nowe to complaine,
Or who fhal nowe my ftilè gie or lede?
O Niobe! let nowe thy teris rayne
Into my penne, and helpe nie eke in nede
Thou woful Myre! that felift mine herte blede
Of pitous forowe, and myne hande eke quake,
What that I writin for this mann'is fake;
For unto wo accordith complaining,
And doleful cher unto hevineffe,
To forowe alſo fighing and weping,
And pitous mourning unto drerineffe ;
And whofo that fhall writin of diftreffe
In party nedith to knowe felingly
The cauſe and rote of al foche malady.
But 1, alas! that am of witte but dul,
And that have no knowing of ſoche matere,
For to difcrive and writin at the ful
The woful Complainte which that ye fhal here,
But even like as doth a fkrivinere,
That can no more tell what that he fhal write
But as his maiftir beſide dothe endite;
Kkij
1
$16
THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACKE KNIGHT.
Ryght fo fare I, that of no fentement
Can fayin right naught in conclufioun,
But as I herde whan that I was prefent
This man complinin with a pitous foun,
For even like without addicioun
Or diſencrefc eythir of more or leffe
For to reherſe anone I wol me dreffe.
And if that any nowe be in this place
That fclith in love breninge or fervence,
Or hindirid were to his ladie's grace
With falfe tongis, that with peftilence
Sle trewè men, that nevir did offence.
In worde nor dede, ne yet in ther entent,
If any foche there be here nowe prefent,
Let him of routhe lay him to audience
With doleful chere and fobre countinaunce,
To herin this man by ful hye fentence
Hys mortal wo and his dire perturbaunce
Complaining, and nowe lying in a traunce
With lokis upcaft and with ruful chere,
Th' effecte of which was as ye now hal here.
The thought oppreffed with inward fighis fore,
The painful lyfe, the body languiſhing,
The woful goft, the herte rent and tore,
The pitous chere, all pale in complaining
The dedly face, like afhis in fhining,
The falte teris that from min eyin fall,
Parcel declare grounde of my painis al.
Whofe herte is grounde to blede in hevineſſe
The thought receite of wo and of complainte,
The breft is cheft of dole and drerineffe,
The body eke fo feble and ſo fainte,
With hote and colde mine axis is fo mainte,
That nowe I chivir for defaute of hete,
And hote as glede nowe fodainly I ſwete;
Nowe hote as fire, nowe cold as afhis ded,
Now hote for colde, now cold for hete again,
Now cold as yfe, and now as colis red
For hete I brenne; and thus betwixin twaine
I poffid am and al forcafte in paine,
So that my hete ful plainly as I fele
Of grevous colde is caufe every dele.
This the colde of inward hie diſdaine,
Cold of difpite, and colde of cruil hate,
This is the colde that doth his befy payne
Ayenift trouthe to fight and to debate,
This is the colde that doth the fyre abate
Of trewe mening, alas the harde while!
This is the colde that wol me begile:
For er the bettir that in trouth I mente
With al my myght her fathfully to ferve,
With hert and al to be right diligent,
The leffè thanke, alas' I can deſerve;
'I'hus for my trouthè Daungir, doth me fterve,
For one that fhuld nry deth of mercy let
Hath made Defpite anew his fwerde to whet
Against me, and his arowis to fyle,
To take vongeaunce of wilful cruilte,
And tongis falfe thorough ther flightly wyle
Han gone a werre, that wil not ftintid be,
And falfe Envie, with Wrathe and Envyte,
Have confpirid againft al right and laye
Ofther malyce that Trouth fhal be yflawe,
And Malèbouche gan firſt the talè tel,
To fclaundir Trouth of indignacion,
And Falfe Reporte fo laud yrange the bel
That Miſbyleſe and Falſe Suſpection
Have Trouthe ybrought to his dampnacion,
So that, alas! wrongfully he dyith,
And Falfcneffe nowe his place occupyith,
And entirid is into Trouth'is londe,
And hath thereof the ful poffeffion.
O rightful God! that firft the trouthè fonde,
Howe maie thou fuffre foche oppreffyon,
That Falfhed fhulde have jurifdiction
In Troth'is right to fle him giltiles!
In his fraunchife he may not live in pees.
Falfly accufed, and of his fone forjuged,
Withoutin anfwere, while he was abfent,
He damnid was, and maie not be excufed,
For Cruilte yfate in judgement
Of Haftineffe without advifèment,
And badde Difdaine do execute anone
His judgement in prefence of his fone.
Attorney there maye none admittid ben
To excufe Trouthe, ne a worde to fpeke;
To faith or othe the judge ne lifte not fene;
There ne is no gaine but he will be wreke.
O Lorde of Trouthe! to the I cal and clepe,
Howe may thou fein thus in thy prefence
Withoutin mercy murdrid Innocence!
Nowe God, that art of trouthè fovèraine,
And feift how I lie for trouthè bounde,
So fore yknitte in lov'is fyrie chaine, (wounde,
Even at the deth, through gyrte with many' a
That lykily are nevir for to founde,
And for my trouthe am dampnid to the deth,
And not abyde, but drawe along the breth,
Confidre' and fe in thine eternal right
Howe that min herte profeflid whilom was
For to be trewè with al my ful myght
Onily to one, the whiche nowe, alas!
Of volunte without any trefpas
Myne accufours hath takin unto grace,
And cheriſhith 'hem my deth to purchace.
What menith this? what is this wondir ure
Of purveiaunce, yf ſo I ſhal it cal,
Of god of Love, that falfe 'hem ſo affure,
And trewe, alas! downe of the whele ben fal!
And yet in fothe this is the worst of al,
That falfhed wrongfully' of troth hath name,
And trouth ayenward of falſhed the blame.
This blindè chaunce, this ftormy avinture,
In love hath moftely his experience,
For who that doth with trouthè moft his cure
Shal for his mede yfindin mofte offence
That fervith Love with al his diligence,
For who can fainin undir lowly hede
Ne failith not to findin grace and fpede:
For I lovid one ful longe fythe agone
ก
With mine herte, and body, and ful might,
And to be ded my herte can not gone
From his behefte, but hold that he hath hyght;
Though I be banifhid out of her fyght,
And by her mouth dampnid that I fhall dey,
To my behefte yet I will er obey :
THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACKE KNIGHT.
3x7
For evir fithins that the worlde began,
Who fo lyfte lokin and in ſtory rede,
He fhal aye findin that the trewê man
Was put abacke there where as the falfhede
Yfurthered was; for Love takith none hede
To fle the trew, and hath of 'hem no charge,
Where as the falfe gothe frely at ther large.
I take recorde of true Palamedes,
The giltleſs man, the noble worthy knight,
That cvir lovid and had no reles,
Notwithſtanding his manhode and his might,
Yet Love unto him dyd ful gret unright,
For aye the bet he dyd in chivalrye
The more he ftill was hindrid by envye;
And aye the bett he did in every place,
Thorough his knighthode and his buſy paine,
The ferdir was he from his ladye's grace,
For to her mercy might he ner attaine,
And to his deth he coude it not refraine
For no daungere, but aye obey and ferve
As he beſte coude, plainly tyl that he ſterve.
What was the fyne alfo of Hercules
For al his conqueſt and his worthineffe,
That was of manly ſtrength alone pereles?
For lyke as bokis of him lifte expreſſe
He fet pillers thorough his hye proweſſe
Away at Gades, for to fygnifie
That no man might him paffe in chivalrye;
The whichè pilliris ferre beyonde Inde
Befet of golde for a rememberaunce,
And for al that yet was he fet behinde
With 'hem that love lyfte febly to avaunce;
For him, alas fet laft upon a daunce
Againiſt whom there helpè may no ſtrife.
And fo for al his trouth he lofte his life.
Phoebus alfo, for al his plefaunt lyght,
Whan that he wonid here in yerthe belowe,
Unto the verry herte with Venus fight
Ywoundid was thorough Cupidis bowe,
And yet his lady lyft him not to knowe:
Though for the love of her his herte dy'd blede
She let him go, and toke of him no hede.
What fhal I fayin of yonge Pyramus,
Of trewe Triftram, for al his hye renowne,
Of Achilles or of Antonius,
Of Arcyte, or of him Pelomowne?
What was the ende of ther paffiowne
But aftir forowe deth and than ther grave?
Lo, here the guerdon that thefe tovirs have!
But falfe Jafon with his doubleneſſe,
That was untrue at Colchos to Medce,
And Thefeus, rote of unkindèneffe,
And with theſe two alfo the falfe Enee,
Lo! thus the falfe evir in one degre
Haddin in love ther luft and al ther wil,
And fave falfhode there was none othir fil.
Of Thebis city eke the falſe Arcite,
And falfir Demophon eke for his flouthe,
They had ther luft and al that myght delite
For al ther faifhode and ther gret untrouthe;
Thus evir Love, alas! and that is routhe,
His falfe licgis forthirith what he may,
And fleeth the trewe ungodely day by day :
For trewe Adonis was flayne with the bore
Amidde the foreft in the grenê ſhade,
For Venus love he feltin al the fore,
But Vulcanus with her no mercy made,
The foul chorle had many nightis glade,
Where Mars Armipotent, her knight and man,
To fyndin mercy comforte none he can.
Alfo the yonge frcfhe Hippomenes,
So luftly fre he was of his corage
That for to ferve with al his hert he ches
Atalanta, fo faire of her vifage,
But Love, alas! quite him fo ill his wage,
With cruil daungir plainly at the laſte.
That with the dethè guerdonleffe he paſte.
Lo here, alas! the fine of Love's fervice!
Lo howe that Love can his fervauntis quite!
Low how he can his faithful men diſpiſe,
Tofle the trewe men and falſe to refpite!
Lo howe he dothe the fwerde of forowe byte
In hert'is foche as mofte his luſte obey,
To fave the falfe and do the trewe to dey!
For faith, nor othe nor worde, ne affuraunce,
Trewe mening, nor awaite, nor buſyneffe,
Neithir ftil porte ne faithful attendance,
Manhode, ne might in armis, worthineffe,
Nor purfute of worſhip nor hie proweffe,
Nor in ftraunge landis riding ne travaile, Į
Ful lytil or nought in love dothe availe.
Peril of dethe neithir in fe ne lande,
Hungir ne thurst, forowe ne ſykèneffe,
Ne gret emprifis for to take on hande,
Sheding of blode, ne manful hardineffe,
Ne ofte wounding at fautis by diſtreffe,
Nor in parting of life, nor deth alſo,
Al is for nought; Love taketh no hedè therto.
But lefingoures with ther bafe flattirie,
Through ther falfhede, and with ther doubleneffe,
With talis newe, and many fainid lie,
By falfe femblaunt and counterfeit humbleffe,
Undir colour depainte with ftedfaftneffe,
With fraude covered under a pitous face,
Acceptid be nowe rathift unto grace,
And can themſelvin nowe best magnifie
With fainid porte and ther prefumpcion;
They hauncin ther caufe with falfe furquidrie,
Undir menyng of double entencion,
To thinkin one in ther opinion,
And faye' anothir to ſet them ſelf alofte,
And hindir trouthe, as it is fene ful ofte.
The whichè thinge I bye nowe al to dere,
Thankid be Venus and the god Cupide,
As it is fene by mine oppreffid chere,
And by his arowes that stycken in my fide,
That fave my deth I nothinge elles abide
Fro day to day, alas the harde while!
Whenevir his darte that hym lyft to file,
My woful herte for to rive atwo,
For faute of mercy and lack of pite
Of her that caufith al my paine and we,
And lyfle not onis of grace for to fe
Unto my trothe thorough her cruelte;
And most of al for this I me complaine,
That the hath joy to laughin at my paing
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THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACKE KNIGHT.
crye,
And wilfully fhe hath my deth yfworne
Al giltileffe, and wote no caufe why,
Save for the trouthè that I had aforne
To her alone to fervin faithfully.
O god of Love! all unto the I
And to thy blynde and double deïte
Of this my gret wronge I complainè me,
And to thy ftormy wilful variance,
Iment with chaunge and gret unſtableneſſe,
Now up now doune, fo renning is thy chaunce,
That the to truft may be no fikirneffe,
I wite it nothinge but thy doubleneffe;
And who that is an archir and is blende
Markith nothinge, but fhotith ay by wende;
And for that he hath no difcrecion
Without adviſe he let his arowe go;
For lacke of fight and alfo of refon,
In his fhoting it happith oftin fo
To hurte his frendift rathir than his fo:
So doith this blind god with his fharpe flone,
The trew he fleeth and lettith the falfe
gone.
And of his wounding this is worſt of al,
Whan he hurt doith to fo cruil wretche,
And makith the fycke for to crie and cal
Unto his very foe to be his leche;
And harde it is, fothe, for a man to feche,
Upon the point of deth in jeoperdye,
Unto his foe to findin remedie.
Right thus farith it nowe evin by me,
That to my foe that gave my herte a wounde
Mote afkin grace, and mercy, and pite,
And namily there where none may be founde,
For nowe my fore my lcchè wil confounde,
And god of Kinde ſo ill hath fet mine ure
My lyv'is foe to have my wounde in cure.
Alas the while nowe that I was borne,
Or that I evir fawe the brightè fonne !
"For nowe I fe plaine that ful longe aforne
Or I was borne my deſtiny was fponne
By the Siflerne, to fle me yf they conne,
For they my deth had ſhopin or my fherte,
Onely for trouth I may it not afterte.
The mighty goddeffe alſo of Nature,
That undir God hath the whole govirnaunce
Of worldely thinges committid to her cure,
Difpofid have through her wife purveiaunce
To give my lady fo moche fuffifaunce
Of al vertucs, and therwithal purvyde
To murdre Trouth hath take Daungir to gide :
For bounte, beaute, ſhape, and femelihede,
For prudence, wit, and paffingly faircneffe,
For benigne porte, glad chere, with lowlyhede,
Of womanhede right plenteous largeneffe,
Dame Nature dyd in her fully empreſſe
Whan the her wrought, and althir laſt Diſdaine
To hindir Trouthe fhe made her chambirlaine;
Whan Miftruft cke and Falfe Sufpeccion,
With Mifbeleve, fhe madin for to be
Chefe of counfaile, to this conclufion,
For to exilin Trouthe and cke Pite,
Out of her courte to makin Mercy fle,
So that Diſpite now holdith forthe her reine
Through haity bilcve of tales that men feine.
And thus l' am, only for my trouth, alas!
Murdrid and flayn with wordis fharp and kene,
Although gyltleffe God wote of al tṛefpas,
And lye and blede upon this colde grene.
Nowe mercy,
mercy, fwete!
fwete! mercy, my liv'is quene!
And to your grace of mercye yet I preye
In your fervice that your true man may deye.
But if fo be that I fhal die algate,
And that I fhal none other mercy have,
Yet of my deth let this yben the date,
That by your wil I was brought to my grave,
Or haftily, if that you lyfte me fave,
My fharpe woundis, that akin fo and blede,
Of mercy charme and alfo' of womanhede:
For othir charme plainly ne is there none
But onely mercy to helpe in this cafe,
For though my woundis blede evir in one
My lyfe, my deth, yftandith in your grace;
And though my gilte ybe nothinge, alas !
I aſke mercy in all my beſt entente,
Redy to dyin if that ye affente :
For there againift fhal I nevir ſtrive
In worde ne werke, plainly I ne may,
For levir I have then to be alyve
To dye lothly, and it be to her
paye,
Ye, though it fhuldè be this fame day,
Or whan that evir her lyfte to deviſe;
Suffifith me to die in your fervife.
[wight
Thou, God! that knoweft the thought of every
Right as it is, in every thing maiſt ſe,
Yet er I dyd with al my ful myght
Lowly I pray to grauntin unto me
That ye, lady godely, faire, freſhe, and fre!
Which oncly fle me for defaute of routhe,
Or that I dyin ye may knowe my trouthe
For that in fothe inow fuffifith me
And the it knowe in every circumftaunce,
And aftir I am wel apaide that ſhe,
If that her lyft of deth to do vengeaunce,
Unto me that am undir her lygeaunce;
It fit me not her dome to diſobeye,
But at her lufte fulle wilfully to deye.
Withoutin grutchinge or rebellion
In wil or wordis wholy I affentè,
Or any manir contradiction,
Fully to be at her commaundèment;
And if I dyin, in my teftament
My herte I fende and my ſpirite alſo,
What fo evir fhe lyfte with 'hem to do.
And aldir laft unto her womanhede
And to her mercy me I recommaunde,
That lyc nowe here betwixin hope and drede,
Abidinge plainly what the lift commaunde,
For uttirly this ne is no demaunde;
Welcome to me whilis me laftith breth,
Ryght at her choife, where it be lyfe or deth.
And in this matir more what might I faine,
Sithe in her hand and in her wil is al,
Bothe lyfe and deth, my joye and al my peine?
And, finally, my hefte holdin I fhall
Tyl my fpirite by deflinye fatal,
Whan that her lyflith fro my body wende,
Have here my trouth; and thus I make an ende
THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACKE KNIGHT.
319
And with that worde he gan to fighe as fore,
Like as his hert yrivin would atwaine,
And helde his pece, and fpake no wordè more;
But for to fe his wo and mortal paine
The teris gonin fro mine eyin raine
Ful piteouſly, for very inwarde rothe,
That I him fawè fo long wiſhyng for troth.
And al this while my felfe I keptè clofe
Amonge the bowis, and my felfe gonne hide,
Tyl at the laſt the woful man aroſe,
And to a lodge ywent there cloſe beſide,
Where at the May his cuftome was t'abyde,
Sole to complainin of his painis kene
From yere to yere undir the bowis grene.
And for bycauſe that it drewe to the night,
And that the fonnè his arke diurnal
Ypallid was, fo that his perfaunt lyght,
His brightè bemis and his ftremis al,
Were in the wavis of the watir fal
Undir the bordure of our ocean,
His chare of golde his courfe fo ſwiftly ran ;
And while the twilight and the rowis rede
Of Phoebus light were deaurat alite
A penne I toke, and gan me faft to ſpede
The woful plaintis of this man to write
All worde by worde right as he did endite;
Like as I herde and coude him tho reporte
I have here fet, your hertis to diſporte.
If ought be miffe laye all the wite on me,
For I am worthy for to bere the blame;
If any thinge amyffe reportid be
To make this ditte for to femê lame,
Through myne unconning for to ſain the ſame
Like as this man his Complaint dyd expreffe,
I aſke you mercy and forgivèneffe.
And as I wrote me thought I fawe aferre,
Aferre in the weſt, luftily appere
Efperus, the fo bright and godely fterre,
So glade, fo faire, fo perfaunte, eke of chere,
I menè Venus, with her bemis clere,
That hevy hertis only to releve
Is wonte of cuftome for to fhewe at eve;
And I as faſt fel adowne on my kne,
And evin thus to her gan I to prey;
O lady Venus, fo feire on to fe!
Let not this fothfaſt man for his trouthe deye,
For that joy which thou haddiſt whan thou leye
With Mars thy knight when Vulcanus yfonde,
And with a chaine unvifible you bonde
Togidir bothê tway, in the fame whyle
That al the courte above celeſtial
At your fhamè began to laughe and fmyle:
Ah fairift lady! willy fonde at al,
Comforte to careful goddis immortal
Be helping nowe, and do thy diligence
To let the ftremis of thine influence
Diſcendin downe in forthering of the trouth,
Namely of 'hem that lye in forowe bounde;
Shew now thy might, and on ther wo have routh
Er that falſe Daungir fle 'hem and confounde;
And ſpecial let thy might in this be founde
For to help and focour what that thou may
The trewe man that in the herbir lay,
And al that trewe are forthir for his fake,
O gladè fterre! o lady Venus myne!
And caufe his lady him to grace to take;
Her hert of ftele to mercy fo encline,
Er that thy bemis go up to declyne,
And er that thou nowe go fro us adowne,
For that love which thou haddift to Adowne.
And whan that ſhe wos gone unto her reſt
I rofe anone, and home to bed ywente,
For wery' I was, me thought it for the best,
Defiring thus in al my beſt entente
That al trewe men that be with daungir fhente
With mercy may, in releſe of ther paine,
Recurid be er Maye come efte againe.
And for that I ne may no lengir wake
Farewel, ye lovirs al that be trewe,
Praying to God, and thus my leve I take,
That er the fonne to morowe be ryfen newe,
And er he have ayen his rofin hewe,
That eche of you may havin foche a grace
His owne lady in armis to embrace;
I mene thus only, in al honeſte,
Withoutin more, ye may togidir ſpeke
What fo ye lyftin at gode liberte,
That eche may to othir ther herte ybreke,
On Jelousie only to be awreke,
That hath fo long of malice and envy
Ywerrid Trouthè with his tiranny.
L'ENVOY.
Princeffe plefith it your benignite
This lityl dyte for to have in minde
Of your womanhede, alfo for to ſe
That your trew man may of you mercy find
And pite eke, that longe hath be behinde;
Let him againe be provokid to grace,
For by my trouthe it is againſt alle kinde
That falfe Daungere fhould occupye his place.
Go, lityl quaire, unto my liv'is quene,
And to my very hert'is fovèraine,
And be right glad for that ſhe ſhal the fene;
Soche is thy grace: but I, alas! in paine
And left behinde, and n'ot to whom to plaine,
For mercy, Ruthe, and Grace, and eke Pyte,
Exilid be, that I may not attaine
Recure to finde of mine adverſite.
Kkiiij
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520
THE COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS.
THE
COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS.
GLADITH ye lovirs in the morowe graie;
Lo Venus riffen emong yon rowis rede!
And flouris frefhe honour ye this daie,
Who reignith nowe in bliffe but faire Venus,
That hath this worthi knight in govirnaunce?
Who fingith nowe but Mars, that fervith thus
For when the fonne uprift then would thei fprede; The fayre Venus, the caufir of plefaunce?
But ye lovirs that lie in any drede
Flyith, lefte wickid tonguis you aſpic :
Lo, yonde the fonne, the candle? of Jeloufie!
With teris blewe and with a woundid hert
Taketh your leve, and with Sainct Ihon to borowe
Apefith fomwhat of your painis ſmert,
Time comith eft that ceffin fhall your forow
The glad night is worthe an hevie morowe.
Saint Valentine, a foule thus herde I fing
Upon thy daie or fonnè gan up ſpring :
Yet fang this foule; I rede you all awake,
And ye that have not chofen in humble wife,
Without repentyng, chefith now your make,
Yet at the left renoveleth your fervice,
And ye that have full chofen, as I devife,
Confermith it perpetually to dure,
And pacientlie takith your avinture.
And for the worship of this highè fefte
Yet woll I in my bridd'is wife yfyng
The fentence of the Complaint at the lefte
That wofull Mars made at the departyng
Fro freſhe Venus in a morownyng,
When Phoebus with his firie torchis rede
Ranfaked hath every lovir in his drede.
Whilome the thre hevenis lorde above,
As well by hevenliche revolucion
As by deferte, hath wonne Venus his love,
And the hath take him in fubjeccion,
And as a maiftreffe taught him his leſſon,
Commiaundyng hym nevir in her fervice
He were fo bolde no lovir to difpife:
:
For fhe forbade hym jeloufie at áll,
And cruiltie, and bolte, and tirannie;
She made him at her lufte ſo humble' and thrall,
That when he denied to caft on him her eye
He toke in pacience to live or die;
And thus the bridlith him in her manere
With nothing but with fcorning of her chere,
He bint him to perpetuel obeiffaunce,
And the binte her to lovin him for ever,
But fo be that his trefpace it difcever.
Thus be they knitte, and reignin as in heven,
By loking moft, as it fel on a tide,
That by ther bothe affent was fet a ſteven
That Mars fhall entre' as faft as he may glyde
Into her nextè palays to abyde,
Walking his courfe til fhe had hym ytake,
And he prayed her to hafte her for his fake.
Than faide he thus; Myne hert'is lady fwete!
Ye knowin wel my myfchefe in that place,
For fikirly tyl that I with you mete
My lyfe ftante there in avinture and grace,
But whan I fe the beaute of your face
There is no drede of deth may do me ſmerte,
For al your lufte is efe unto mine herte.
She hath ſo grete compaffion of her knight,
That dwellith in folitude til fhe come,
For it ftode fo that ylke time no wight
Counfailid him, ne faid to him welcome,
That nigh her wit for forowe was oercome,
Wherfore fhe fpedd her as faſt in her way
Almofte in one daye as he did in tway.
The gret joye that ywas betwixe 'hem two
Whan they be mette there may no tongè tel,
There is no more but unto bedde they go,
And thus in joye and bliffe I lette 'hem dwel;
This worthy Mars, that is of knighthode wel,
The floure of fairneffe happith in his armes,
And Venus kyflith Mars the god of Armes.
Sojournid hath this Mars, of which I rede,
In chambre' amydde the palais privily
A certaine time, til that him fel a drede
Through Phœbus, that was comin haftily
Within the palais yatis fturdily
With torch in honde, of which the ftremis bright
On Venus chambre knockidin ful light,
THE COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS.
522
1
The chambre there as laye this freſhè quene
Depaintid was with white bolis grete,
And by the light ſhe knew that thon fo fhene
That Phœbus came to bren 'hem with his hete;
This filly Venus, ny dreint in teres wete,
Enbrafith Mars, and faid, Alas I die!
The torch is come that all this worlde wol wrie.
Up fterte tho Mars, him liſtid not to flepe
Whan he his lady herdin fo complaine,
But for his nature was not for to wepe,
In ſtede of teris from his cyin twaine
The firie ſparelis fprongin out for paine,
And hente his hauberke that lay him befide;
Fly wold he nought, ne might him felfin hide.
He throwith on his helme of huge weight,
And girt him with his fwerde, and in his honde
His mighty fpere, as he was wont to feight,
He fhakith fo that it almoft to wonde;
Ful hevy was he to walken ovir londe;
He may not holde with Venus company,
But badde her flye, lefte Phoebus her eſpy.
O woful Mars, alas! what maiſt thou ſain?
That in the palace of thy difturbaunce
Arte lefte behind in paril to be flaine,
And yet thereto is double thy penaunce,
For fhe that hath thine hert in govirnaunce
Is paffid halfe the ftremis of thine eyen;
That you n'ere fwift wel maiſt thou wepe and crien.
Nowe flyeth Venus into Ciclinius tour
With voide corfe, for fere of Phœbus light;
Alas! and there ne hath fhe no focour,
For the ne fonde ne fey no manir wight,
And eke as there fhe had but litil might,
Wherfore her felvin for to hide and fave
Within the gate fhe fledde into a cave,
Darke was this cave, and ſmoking as the hel,
Nat but two paas within the yate it ftode;
A naturel day in darke I let her dwel.
Now wol I fpeke of Mars, furious and wode,
For forowe he wolde have feen his hert blode;
Sith that he might done her no companie -
He ne rought not a mitè for to die.
So feble' he wext for hete and for his wo
That nigh he fwelt; he might unneth endure;
He path but a ſterre in dayis two;
But nertheles for al his hevy armure
He foloweth her that is his liv'is cure,
For whofe departing he toke gretir yre
Than he did for his brenning in the fire.
Aftir he walkith foftily a paas,
Complaining that it pite was to here;
He faide, O lady bright, Venus! alas
That er fo wide a compas is my ſphere!
Alas, whan fhal I mete you, hertè dere!
This twelve dayis of April I endure
Through jelous Phoebus this mifavinture.
Now God helpe fely Venus all alone!
But as God wolde it happid for to be
That while that weping Venus made her mone
Ciclinius riding in his chyvaunche
Fro Venus, Valanus might this palais fe,
And Venus he ſalvith and makith chere,
And her recevith as his frende ful dere.
Mars dwellith forth in his adverfitie,
Complaining evir in her departing,
And what his complaint was remembrith me,
And therefore in this luftie morowning,
As I beft can, I wol it faine and fing,
And aftir that I wol my leve ytake,
And God yeve every wight joy of his make!
{
532
THE COMPLAINT OF MARS.
THE COMPLAINT OF MARS.
THE' ordir of Complaynt requireth fkilfully
That if a wight fhall plainin pitouſly
Ther mote be cauſe wherfore that men yplaine,
Or men may deme he playnith folily
And caufèles: alas! that am not I,
Wherfore the grounde and cauſe of all my paine,
So as my troublid witte may it attaine,
I wol reherſe, not for to have redreſſe,
But to declare my grounde of hevineffe.
The firſt time, alas! that I was ywrought,
And for certain effectis hidir brought
By him that lordith eche intelligence,
I yave my trewè fervice and my thought
For evirmo, how dere I have it bought!
To her that is of ſo gret excellence
That what wight that fhewith firft her offence,
Whan fhe is wrothe and taketh of him no cure,
He may not longe in joye of love endure.
This is no fainid matir that I tel;
My lady is the very fours and wel
Of beaute, luſte, fredome, and gentilneffe,
Of riche array howe dere fo men it fel,
Of al difporte in whiche men frendly dwel,
Of love and play, and of benigne humbleffe,
Of fowne of inftrumentes of al fwetneſſe,
And thereto fo wel fortuned and thewid
That through the world her godenes is fhewid:
What wondir is than though that I befette
My fervice on foche one that may me knette
To wele or wo, fithe it lithe in her might?
Therfore myne herte for er I to her hette,
Ne trewly for my deth fhall I not lette,
To ben her trewift fervant and her knight;
1 flattir nat, that may wete every wight,
For this day in her ſervice fhall I dye;
But grace be I fe her nevir with eye.
To whom fhal I plainin of my diftreffe?
Who may me help, who may my hert redreffe?
Shal I complaine unto my lady fre?
Nay, certis, for fhe hath foche hevyneffe
For fere and cke for wo, that as I geffe
In litil time it would her bane ybe,
But were ſhe ſafe it were no force of me;
Alas that evir lovirs mote endure
For love ſo many per'ilous avinture!
For though fo be that lovirs be as trewe
As any metal that is forgid newe,
In many' a cafe 'hem tidith oft forowe;
Somtime ther ladies wol nat on 'hem rewe,
Somtimis if that Jeloufy it knewe
They mightin lightly lay ther hed to borowe;
Somtime envious folke with tongis horowe
Depravin 'hem: alas! whom may they pleſe?
But he be falfe no lovir hath his efe.
But what availith foch a long fermoun
Of avinturis of love up and doun ?
I wol retourne and ſpekin of my paine:
The point is this, of my diftructioun
My right lady and my falvacioun
Is in affray, and n'ot to whom to plaine :
O hertè fwete! o lady fovèrayne!
For
your diſeſe I ought wel ſwoun and fwelt,
Though I none othir harme ne drede yfelt.
To what fine made the god that fytte fo hie
Beneth him othir love or companye,
And ftrainith folke to love maugre ther hed?
And then ther joye for aught I can eſpie
Ne laftith not the twinkeling of an eye,
And fome have nevir joye til they be ded;
What menith this, what is this miſtihed?
Wherto conftrainith he his folke fo faft
Thing to defirin but it ſhould ylaſt?
And though he made a lovir love a thing,
And makith it ſeme ſtedfaſt and during,
Yet putteth he in it foche mifavinture
That reft ne is ther none in his yeving;
And that is wondir that fo jufte a king
Ydothe foche hardneffe unto his creture;
Thus whethir love breke or ellis dure
Algatis he that hath with love to done
Hath oftir wo than chaungid is the mone.
{
1
THE
COMPLAINT OF MARS. .
523
It femeth he hath to lovirs enmyte,
And lyke a fisher, as men may al day ſe,
Baitith his anglehoke with fome plefaunce,
Till many' a fiſhe is wode to that he be
Cefid therwith, and then at erſt hath he
Al his defire, and therwithal miſchaunce,
And though the line breke he hath penaunce,
For with that hoke he woundid is fo fore
That he his wagis hath for evirmore.
The broche of Thebis was of foche a kinde,
So ful of rubyes and of ſtones of Inde
That every wight that fette on it an eye
He wende anone to worthy out of his mynde;
So fore the beaute would his hert ybynde
Til it he had him thought he muſt ydie;
And when that it was his than fhould he drie
Soche wo for drede aye while that he it had
That welnigh for the fere he ſhould be mad;
And whan it was fro his poffeffion
Than had he double wo and paffion
That he fo faire a jewil hath forgo;
But yet this broche, as in conclufion,
Was not the cauſe of his confufion,
But he that wrought it enfortuned it fo
That every wight that had it ſhould have
And therfore in the worchir was the vice,
And in the coveitour, that was fo nice.
So farith it by lovirs and by me,
For though my lady have fo grete beaute
That I was mad to I had gette her grace
She was not cauſe of mine adverfite,
But he that wroughtin her, as mote I the,
wo,
That put fo gret a beaute in her face
That made me coveitin and ſo purchace
Myne ownè deth; him wite I that I die,
And mine unwit that er I clambe ſo hie.
But to you hardy knightis of renowne,
Sithe that ye be of my devifyowne,
Al be' I not worthy to fo gret a name,
Yet faine theſe clerkis I am your patrone,
Therfore ye ought have fome compaffione
Of my diſeſe, and take it nat agame,
The proudift of you may be made ful tame,
Wherfore I pray you of your gentilleſſe
That ye complainin for mine hevineffe.
And ye, my ladyes, that ben trew and ſtable,
By way of kinde ye oughtin to ben able
To have pitie of folke that ben in paine;
Nowe have ye cauſe to clothin you in ſable;
Sith that your empères the honorable
Is defolate wel oughtin ye to plaine;
Nowe fhoude your holy teris fal and raine:
Alas! your honour and your emperice
Nigh ded for drede ne can her not chevice.
Complainith eke ye lovirs al in fere
For her that with unfainid humble chere
Was evir redy to do you focour,
Complainith her that er hath be you dere,
Complainith beaute, fredome, and manere,
Complainith her that endith your labour,
Complainith thilke enfample' of al honour,
That nevir yet dyd ought but gentilneffe;
Kythith therfore in her fome kindèneffe,
1
$24
THE COMPLAINT OF VENU S.
THE COMPLAINT OF VENUS.
THERE n'ys fo high comfort to my plefaunce,
Whan that I am in my hevineffe,
As for to have leyfir of remembraunce
Upon the manhode and the worthyneffe,
Upon the trouthe and on the ftedfaſtnes,
Of him whofe I am al while I maye dure;
There ought to blamin me no creäture,
For every wight praifith his gentilleſfe.
In him is bounte, wifedome, govirnaunce,
Well more than any mann'is witte can geffe,
For Grace hath wolde fo ferforth him avaunce
That of knighthod he is parfite richeffe,
Honour honourith him for his nobleffe,
Therto fo wel hath fourmid him Nature
That I am his for er I him enfure,
For every wight praifith his gentilleffe.
And natwithſtanding all his fuffifaunce
His gentil herte is of fo gret humbleffe
To me in worde, in werke, and in countenaunce,
And me to ferve is al his befineffe,
That I am fette in very fykirneffe;
Thus ought I to bliffe wel mine avintour,
Sith that him lifte me fervin and honour,
For every wight praifith his gentilleffe.
Nowe certis, Love, it is right covenable
That men ful dere abye thy noble thinges,
As wake abedde and faſtin at the table,
Weping to laugh, and finge in complainynges,
And downe to caftin vifage and lokinges,
Oftin to chaunge vifage and countinaunce
Playe in flepinge, and dremin at the daunce,
Al the revers of any gladde feling.
Jeloufy he hangid by a cable,
She wolde al knowin through her efpiyng,
There dothe no wight nothing ſo refonable
That al n'is harme in her ymagining;
Thus dere abought is Love in his yeving,
Whiche ofte he yevith without ordinaunce,
As forowe' ynough and litil of plefaunce,
Al the revers of any glade fcling.
A litil tyme his yeft is agreable,
But ful accomberous is the ufinge,
For fubtil Jelouſy the difcevable
L
Ful oftin tyme ycaufith diftourbinge;
Thus ben we evir in drede and fuffring:
In no certaine we languifhen in penaunce,
And have wel ofte many an harde miſchaunce,
Al the revers of any gladde feling.
But certis, Love, I faye not in foche wiſe
That for to ſcape out of your lace I ment,
For I fo longe have ben in your ſervice
That for to lete of wil I ner aſſent,
No force though jeloufye me doe tourment;
Suffifith me to fe him whan I may,
And therfore certis to mine ending day
To love him beft fhal me nevir repent.
And certis, Love, whan I me wel adviſe
Of any' eftate that man may repreſent
Than have ye made me thorough your franchife.
Chefin the beft that evir in erthe went;
Nowe love well, hert, and loke thou nevir ftent,
And lette the jelous putte it in affaye
That for no paine ne wol I not fay naye;
To love him beft fhall I nevir repent.
O herte! to the it ought ynoughe fuffice
That Love fo highe a grace hath to you fent
To chofe the worthyift in allè wife,
And moft agreable to mine entent;
Sekith no ferthir neithir way ne went,
Sith ye have fuffifaunce unto my paye:
Thus wol I ende this Complaint or this lay;
To love him beft fhal 1 nevir repent.
L'ENVOYE.
Princes, receveth this complaininge in gre,
Unto your excellent benignite
Directe aftir my litil fuffifaunce,
For elde, that in my fpirite dullith me,
Hath of enditing al the fubtilte.
Welnigh berafte out of my remembraunce;
And eke to me it is a grete penaunce,
Sith rime in Engliſhe hath loche ſcarcite,
To' folowe worde by worde the curiofite
Of Cranfon, flour of 'hem that make in France.
THE LAMENTACION OF MARIE MAGDALEINĖ.
$25
THE LAMENTACION
OF MARIE MAGDALEINE.
This treatife is taken out of St. Origen, wherein Mary Magdalen lamenteth the cruell
death of her Saviour Chrift.
PLONGID in the wawe of mortall diftreffe,
Alas for wo! to whom fhal I complein?
Or who fhall devoide this grete hevineſſe
Fro me', woful Marie, wofull Magalein!
My Lord is gon; alas! who wrought this tein?
This fodain chaunce perfith my herte fo depe
That nothing can I do but waile and wepe.
My Lorde is gone that here in grave was laied
Aftir his grete paffion and deth cruell;
Alas' who hath hym thus again betraied?
Or what man here aboutin can me tell
Where he' is become the Prince of Ifraell,
Jeſus of Naz'areth, my ghoftly fuccour,
My parfite love, and hope of all honour!
What creture hath hym hennis çaryid,
Or how might this fo fodainly befall?
I would I had here with him taryid,
And fo fhould I have had my purpoſe all:
I bought ointmentes ful precious and roial,
Where with I hoped his corps to have anointed,
But he thus gone my minde is difapointed.
While I therefore advertiſe and beholde
This pitous chaunce here in my prefence
Full little marvaile though my hert be colde,
Confidiryng, lo! my Lord'is abfence :
Alas that I fo full of negligence
Should be foundin! becaufe I come fo late
All men maie faie I am infortunate.
Caufe of my forowe you maie undirſtonde,
Quia tuler unt Dominum meum,
An othir is that I ne maie him fonde,
I wote nere ubi pofuerunt eum ;
Thus I mufte bewaile dolorem meum
With hertie wepying I can no bet deſerve
Till Deth approche my hertè for to kerve.
My herte oppreft with fodain avinture
By fervent anguifhe is bewrappid fo
That long this life I ne maie not endure,
Soche is my pain, foch is my mortall wo;
Nevirtheleffe to what parte fhall I go
In hope to findin myne owne turtill true,
My liv'is joye, my foverain Lorde Jeſu!
Sith all my joye, that I call his prefence,
Is thus removed, now I am full of mone;
Alas the while I made no providence
For this miſhap! wherefore I figh and grone:
Succour to finde to what place might I gone!
Fain I would to fome man my hertè breke;
I n'ot to whom I maic complain or ſpeke.
Alone I ftande full forie and full fad,
Which hopid to have feen my Lorde and Kyng;
Small caufe have I to be merie or glad
Remembryng this bittirful departyng:
In this worlde ne is no creture livyng
That was to me fo gode and gracious,
His love alfo then golde more precious.
Full fore I figh without comfort again,
There is no cure to my falvacion,
His brenning love my hert fo doth conſtrain,
Alas, here is a wofull permutacion!
Wherof I finde no joye nor confolacion,
Therefore my pain all onely to confefſe
With deth I fere woll ende my hevineſſe,
526
THE LAMENTACION OF MARIE MAGDALEINE.
This wo and anguifh is intollerable;
If I bide here, life can I not fuſtain,
If I go hence my paines be uncurable;
Where him to finde I knowe no place certain,
And thus I ne wote of theſe thingis twain
Whiche I maie take and which I maie refufe:
My hert is wounded heron to thinke or mufe,
A while I fhall ftande in this morowning
In hope if any vifion would appere
That of my love might tell fome gode tyding,
Whiche into joy might chaunge my wepyng cher ;
I traft in his grace and his mercy dere;
But at the left, though I there with me kill,
I fhall not ſpare to waile and wepe my fill.
And if that I die in foche avinture
I can no more but welcome as my chaunce;
My bones fhal reft here in this fepulture;
My life, my deth, is at his ordinaunce;
It fhal be tolde in laſting remembraunce:
Thus to departin is to me no fhame,
And alſo thereof I 'am nothing to blame.
Hope against me fo hath her courſe itake
That there is no more, but thus fhall I die :
I fe right well my Lorde hath me forfake,
But in my conceipt caufe know I none why:
Although he be farre hence and nothing nye
Yet my wofull herte after hym doeth ſeke,
And caufeth teres to ren doun by my cheke.
Thinking, alas! I have loft his preſence,
Which in this worlde was all my fuſtinaunce ;
I crie and call with hertie diligence,
But there is no wight givith attendaunce,
Me to certifie of myne enquiraunce,
Wherefore I will to all this world bewraie
How that my Lorde is flain and born awaie.
Though that I mourne it ne is no grete wonder,
Sithe he is all my joye in fpeciall;
And nowe I thinke we be fo farre afonder
That hym to fe I fere nevir I fhall;
It helpith no more aftir hym to call,
Ne after hym to' enquire in any cofte:
Alas! how is he thus ygone and loft?
The Jewis I thinke full of miferie,
Yfet in malice by ther bufy cure
With force and might of gilefull trecherie
Hath entermined my Lord'is fepulture,
And borne awaie that precious figure,
Levyng of it nothyng; if thei' have doen fo
Marrid I am; alas, what fhall I do!
With ther vengeaunce infaciable
Now have thei hym giltleſs entretid fo
That to reporte it is to lamentable,
Thei bete his bodie from toppe to the toe,
Nevir man was yborne that felte foche woe;
Thei woundid hym, alas! with all grevaunce,
The blode doun reilid in moſt habundaunce;
The blodie rowis ftremed doun ovir all,
Thei him affailid ſo maliciouflie
With ther fcourgis and ſtrokis beſtiall;
Thei fparid not, but fmote inceffauntlie;
To fatisfie ther malice thei were bufie :
Thei fpit in his face, thei fmote here and there;
He groned full fore, and fwete many a tere.
Thei crounid hym with thornis fharpe and kene.
The vainis rent, the blode ran doun apace,
With blode ovircome were bothe his eyen,
And bolne with ftrokis was his bleffid face;
Thei hym entretid as men without grace,
Thei knelid to hym, and made many a ſcorne;
Like helhoundis they have hym all to torne:
Upon a mightie croffe in length and brede
(Thefe turmentours fhewid ther curfidneffe)
Thei nailid hym without pitic or drede,
His precious blode brait out in largèneffe,
Theiftrained hym along as men mercileſſe
The verie jointes all to myne apparence
Rived afondir for ther grete violence.
All this I b holding with mine eyen twain
Stode there befide with rufull attendaunce,
And er me thought he beyng in that pain
L kid on me with dedly countinaunce,
As he' had faid in his fpeciall remembraunce
Farwell Magdalen, depart muft I nedes hens,
My herte is tanquam cera liquefens.
Whiche rufull fight when that I gan beholde
Out of my witte I almofte tho distraught,
I tare my here, my handis wrang and folde,
And of the fight my hert dranke foche a draught
That many a fall fwounyng there I caught;
I bruſed my bodie fallyng on the grounde,
Whereof I fele many a grevous wounde.
Then theſe wretchis, full of all frowardneffe,
Gave hym to drinke eifell temprid with gall;
Alas that poifon full of bittirneſſe
My lov'is chere caufid them to appall,
And yet thereof might he not drinke at all,
But fpake theſe wordis, as him thought it beft,
Fathir of hevin! confummatum eft.
Then knelid I doune in pain'is outrage,
Clipping the croffe within myne armis twain,
His blode diftillid doune on my vifage,
My clothis eke the droppis did diſtain;
To have dyid for hym I would full fain,
But what fhoulde it availe if I did fo
Sith he' is fufpenfus in patibulo?
And thus my Lorde full dere was all difgifed
With blode, and pain, and woundis many one,
His veinis braft, his jointis all to rived,
Partyng afondir the flefhe fro the bone;
But I fawe that he hing not there alone,
For cum iniquis deputatus eft,
Not like a man but like a leprous best.
A blinde knight men ycallid Longias
With a fpere aproched to my Sovèrain,
Lannfyng his fide full pitouflie, alas!
That his precious herte he clave in twain,
The purple blode eke fro the hertis vain
Doune railid right faft in mofte rufull wife,
With chriſtal water brought fro Paradiſe.
When I behelde this wofull paflion,
I wote not how, by fodain avinture
My hert was perfed with very compaffion,
That in me remained no life of nature,
Strokis of dethe I felt without mefure,
My deth'is wounde I caught with woe oppreft,
And brought to point as my hert ſhuld ybreft.
3
THE LAMENTACION OF MARIE MAGDALEINE.
527
The wounde, the hert, and blode, of my darling
Shal never flide fro my memorial,
The byttir paines alſo of tourmenting
Within my foule be gravin principal;
The fpere, alas! that was fo fharpe withall
So thrillid my herte, as to my feling,
That body and foule were at departing.
Sone as I might I releved up againe,
My brethe I coude not very wel reſtore,
Feling, my felf drownid in fo grete paine,
Both body' and foule me thought wer al to tore,
Violent fallis grevid me right fore;
I wept, I bledde, and with my felfe I fared
As one that for his life nothing had cared.
I loking up unto that rufull rode
Sawe firft the viſage pale of that figure,
But ſo pitous a fight ſpottid with blode
Sawe nevir yet no living creäture;
So it excedid the boundes of meſure,
That mann'is minde with al his wittis five
Is nothing able that paine to diſcrive.
Than gan I there min armis to unbrace,
Up lifting my handis ful mourningly
I fighid and fore ſobbid in that place,
Both hevin and erthe might have herde me crie
Weping, and faid Alas! inceffauntly,
Ah, my fwete herte, my goftly paramour!
Alas, I may nat thy body focour !
O bleffid Lorde! how fierfe and how cruel
Theſe curfid wightis nowe hath the yſlaine,
Kerving, alas! thy body eviridel
Wounde within wounde, full byttir is thy pain;
Nowe wolde God that I might to the attaine
To naile my body faſt unto thy tre,
So that of this paine thou mightiſt go fre!
I can nat reporte ne make reherfaile
Of my demening with the circumftaunce,
But wel I wote the ſpere with every naile
Thirlid my foule by inwarde refemblaunce,
Which nevir ſhall out of my remembraunce;
During my life it woll caufe me to waile
As ofte as I remembre that bataile.
Ah, ye Jewes! worfe than doggis rabiate,
What moved you thus cruilly him to'aray?
He nevir difplefed you, nor caufed debate,
Your love and true hertes he conveytid aye;
He preched, he teched, he fhewid the right way,
Wherfore ye lyke tyrantes wode and way-warde,
Nowe have him thus yflaine for his rewarde.
Te ought to' have remembrid one thing ſpecial,
His favour, grace, and his magnificence;
He was your prince borne, and lorde ovir all,
Howe be it ye toke him in fmal reverence;
He was ful meke in fuffring your offence,
Nertheleſs ye devoured him with one affent,
As hungry wolves doth the lambe innocent.
Where was your pite, 'o peple mercileſſe !
Arming your felfe with falfhed and trefon,
On my Lorde ye have fhewid your wodeneffe,
Like no men but beftis without refon;
Your malyce he fuffrid for the fefon:
Your paine wol come, ne thinke it nat to flacke;
Man without mercy of mercy feal lacke.
O traitours and maintainirs of madneffe!
Unto your foly' I afcribe al my paine,
Ye have me deprived of joye and gladneffe
So deling with my Lorde and fovèraine;
Nothing ne fhulde I nede thus to complaine
If he' had lived in pece and tranquillite
Whom
Je
have flaine through your iniquite.
Farewel,your nobleneffe that fomtime did raine'
Farewel your worſhip, your glory, and fame!
Hereaftir to lyve in hate and difdaine
Marvaile ye not; for your trefpace and blame
Unto fhame is tournid al your gode name:
Upon you now wol wondir every nation
As peple of a moſt vile reputation.
Theſe wickid wretchis, theſe houndes of hel,
As I have tolde plaine here in this fentence,
Were not content my dere love thus to quel,
But yet they muft embetile his prefence,
As I perceive; by covert violence
They have him conveied to my diſpleſure,
For here is lafte but nakid fepulture:
Wherfore of trouth and rightfull judgement,
That ther malice againe maye be acquited,
Aftir my verdite and aviſement,
Of falſe murdre they ſhullin be endited,
Of theft alfo, which fhal not be refpited,
And in al hafte they fhal be hanged and drawe;
I wol my felfe plede this caufe in the lawe.
Alas! yf I with a trewe attendaunce
Had ſtyl abiddin with my Lord'is corſe,
And kept it ftil with trewe perfeveraunce,
Than had nat befal this woful devorſe;
But as for my paine welcome, and no force :
This fhal be my fonge where fo er I go,
Departing is the grounde of al my wo.
I ſe right wel now in my painis ſmerte
There is no wounde of fo grevous dolour
As is the wounds of my careful herte;
Sithin I have lofte thus my paramour
Al my fwetneſſe is tournid into four;
Mirthe to my herte nothing ne maie convey
But he that bereth therof bothe locke and key.
The joye excellent of bliffed Paradife
Maye me, alas! in no wife re-comforte,
Songe of angel nothing may me fuffiſe,
As in min hertè nowe to make difporte;
Al I refufe but that I might reforte
Unto my love, the wel of godelihede,
For whofe longing I trowe I fhal be ded.
Of painful labour and tourment corpo'ral
I ne make therof none excepcion,
Painis of hel I wol paffe ovir al
My love to finde in myne affeccion;
So grete to him is my delectacion,
A thouſande timis martrid wolde I be
His bleffid body ones if I might ſe.
About this worlde, fo large in all compace,
I fhal not fpare to renne my life during,
My fete alfo fhall not reft in one place
Tyl of my love I may here fome tiding,
For whofe abfence my handis nowe I wring;
To thinke on him cefe fhal nevir my minde:
O gentill Jefu! where fhal I the finde?
N
328
THE LAMENTACION OF MARIE MAGDALEINE.'
Jerufalem I wol ferche place fro place,
Sion, the Vale of Jofaphath alſo,
And if I finde him not in al this ſpace
By Mount Olivet to Beth'any woll I go;
Theſe waies wol I wandir and many mo,
Nazareth, Bethleem, Mountana Jude;
No travaile fhal me paine him for to fe.
His bliffid face if I might fe and finde
Serche I wolde every cofte and countrey,
The fardift parte of Egypt or hote Inde
Shulde be to me but a litil journey.
Howe is he thus gone or takin away!
If I knewe the ful trouth and certentè
Yet from this care relefid might I be.
Into wildirneffe I thinke beſt to go,
Sithe I can no more tidinges of him here,
There may I my lyfe ledin to and fro,
There may I dwel and to no man apere;
To towne ne village woll I not come nere;
Alone in wodes, in rockes, and in caves depe,
I may at mine owne will both waile and wepe.
Myn eyin twaine withoutin variaunce
Shal nevir cefe, I promiſe faithfully,
There for to wepin with gret aboundaunce
Byttir teris renning inceffauntly,
The whiche teris medlid ful petouſly
With the very blode ér fhall renne alfo,
Expreffing in mine hert the grevous wo.
Worldely fode and fuftenaunce I defire none,
Soche living as I finde foch wol I take,
Rotis that growin on the craggy ſtone
Shal me fuffife, with watir of the lake;
Than thus may I fay for my Lord'is fake,
Fuerunt mihi lacrymæ meæ
In deferto panes, die ac nocte.
My body to clothe it makith no force,
A mourning mantil fhal be fafficient,
The grevous woundis of his pitous corfe
Shal be to me a ful royal garnement,
He departid thus I am beſt content;
His craffe with nailis and fcourgis withal
Shal be my thought and paine efpecial.
Thus wol I live, as I have here ytolde,
If I may any longè time endure,
But I fere Deth is ovir me fo bolde
That of my purpoſe I can not be furc;
My painis encrefin without mefure,
For of longe lyfe who can lay any refon?
Al thing is mortal, and hath but a fefon.
I figh ful fore, and it is ferre yſet;
Myne bert 1 fele now bledith inwardly,
The blody teres may in no wife let;
Sithe of my painc I finde no remedye
I thank God of al if that I nowe dye;
His will perfourmid I holde me content;
My foule let him have that hath it me lent,
For lengir to' endure it 'is intollerable,
My woful herte is inflamid fo huge,
That no forow to myne is comparable,
Sithe of my minde I ne fiude no refuge,
Yet I him require as a rightful juge
To devoide fro me the inwarde forowe,
Left that I live not to the nexte morowe.
Within mine hert is impreffid ful fore
His royal forme, his fhappe, his femelines,
His porte, his chere, his godenes evirmore,
His noble perfone, with al gentilnes;
He is the welle of allè parfitues,
The very Redemir of al mankinde,
Him love I beft with herte, and foule, and mindę,
In his abfence my paines ful bittir be,
Right wel I may it fele nowe inwardely,
No wondir is though they hurte or fle me,
They caufin me to crie fo rufully;
Myne herte oppreffed is fo wondirfully
Onely for him, which fo is bright of ble,
Alas, I trowe I fhal him nevir fe!
My joye is tranflate full farre in exile,
My myrthe is chaungid into paynis colde;
My lyfe I think endurith but a while
Anguifhe and paine is that that I beholde,
Wherfore my handis thus I wringe and folde;
Into this grave I loke, I cal, I pray,
Deth remainith and life is borne away.
Now muft I walk and wandir here and there,
God wot to what partis I fhal me dreffe,
With quaking hert wepinge many a tere,
To feke out my love and all my fwetnes;
I wolde he wyft what mortal hevines
About min herte renewith more and more,
Than wolde he nat kepe pite long in ſtore.
Withoutin him I may not longe endure,
His love fo fore workith within my breft,
And er I wepe before this fepulture
Sighing ful fore, as mine herte fhulde ybreft;
During my lyfe I fhal obtaine no rest,
But mourne and wepe where that evir I go,
Making complaint of al my mortal wo
Faft I crie, but there is no audience,
My comming hidir was him for to pleſe,
My foule oppreft is here with his abfence;
Alas, he lift not fet mine herte in eſe!
Wherfore to paine my felfe with al diſeſe
I fhal not fpare tyl he take me to grace,
Or ellis I fhal fterve here in this place.
But onis if that I might with him ſpeke
It were al my joy, with parfite plefaunce;
So that I might to him myne herte breke
I fhulde anone devoide al my grevaunce,
For he' is the bliffe of very recreaunce;
But now, alas! I can nothing do ſo,
For in tede of joy naught have I but wo.
His noble corfe within min hert'is rote
Depe is ygravid, whiche fhal nevir flake;
Nowe is he gone, to what place I ne wote,
1 mourne, I wepe, and al is for his fake:
Sithin he is paſte here a vowe I make
With hertely promife, and therto me binde,
Nevir to cefe til that I may him finde.
Unto his mothir I thinke for to go,
Of her haply fome comforte may I take;
But one thinge yet me ferith and no mo,
Yf that I any mencion of him make
Of my wordis fhe wolde trimble and quake;
And who coude her blame, ſhe having but one?
The foune borne away the mothir wol mone.
THE LAMENTACION OF MARIE MAGDALEINE.
529
Sorowes many hath fhe fuffrid trewly
Sith that fhe first conceivid him and bare,
And fevin thinges there be moſt ſpecially
That drownith her hert in forowe and care,
Yet lo! in no wife maye they not compare
With this one now, the whiche if that ſhe knew
She wolde her painis everichone renewe.
Gret was her forowe by mennis ſaiyug
Whan in the temple Simeon Juſtus
Shewid to her thefe wordis, prophefiyng,
Tuam animam pertranfibit gladius;
Alfo whan Herode, that tyraunt furious,
Her childe purſuid in every place;
For his life went neithir mercy ne grace.
She mournid fore whan that the knewe him gone;
Full longe fhe fought or ſhe him founde ayen;
Whan he went to deth his croffe him upon
It was to her fight a full rewful paine;
Whan he hong theron betwene thevis twaine,
And the fpere unto his herte thruſt was right,
She ſwounid, and to the grounde there ypight :
Whan ded and blody in her lappè lay
His bliffed body, bothe handes and fete al tore,
She cryid out and ſaid, Now, welaway!
Thus arayid was nevir man before:
Whan haſt was made his body to be bore
Unto fepulture here for to remaine
Unnethis for wo the coude her ſuſtaine.
The forowes fevin like fwerdes every one
His mothir's herte woundid fro ſyde to fyde,
But if ſhe knewe her fonnè thus ygone
Out of this worlde fhe fhuld with deth yride,
For care ſhe coude no lengir here abide,
Having no more joy nor confolacioun
Than I here ſtanding in this ſtacioun :
Wherfore her to fe I dare nat prefume;
Fro her prefence I wol my ſelfe refraine;
Vet had I levir to dye and confume
Than his mothir fhulde have any more paine,
Nethèles her fonne I wolde fe ful faine;
His prefence was very joye and fwetnes,
His abfence is but forowe' and hevineffe.
There is no more, fith I may him nat mete
Whom I defire above al othir thing;
Nede I must take the fouir with the fwete,
For of 'his noble corfe I here no tiding;
Ful oftin I crie, and my handis wring.
Myne herte, alas! relentith al in paine,
Whiche wol ybraftin both finewe and vaine.
Alas, howe' unhappy was this woful hour
Wherin is thus mifpendid my fervice!
For min entent and eke my true labour
To none effecte may conie in any wife;
Alas! I thinke if he do me difpife,
And lift not take my fimple obfervaunce,
There is no more, but deth is my finaunce.
I have him called, fed non refpondet mibi,
Wherfore my mirth is tournid to mourning;
O, my dere Lord! quid mali feci tibi,
That me to conforte I finde no' erthly thing?
Alas! have compaffion of my criyng;
Yf fro me faciem tuam abfcondis
There is no more but confumere me vis.
VOL. I.
Within myne hert is groundid thy figure,
That al this world'is horrible tourment
May' it not afwage, it' is fo without meſure,
It is fo brenning, it is fo fervent :
Remembir, Lorde, I have ben diligent
Evir the to plefe onely and no mo;
Myne herte is with the where ſo er I go.
Therfore, my dere darling! trabe me poft te,
And lette me not ftandin thus defolate;
Quia non eft qui confuletur me,
Myne herte for the is fo difconfolate,
My paines alfo nothing me moderate;
Nowe if it lift the to fpeke with me' alyve
Come in haft; my herte afondir will rive.
To the I proûr, lo! my pore fervice,
The for to pleſe aftir mine owne entent;
I offre' here, as in devout facrifice,
My boxe replete with precious oyntment,
Myne eyin twaine weping fufficient,
Myne herte with anguiſhe fulfilled is, alas !
My foule eke redy for love out to pas.
A
Naught ellis have I the to plefe or pay,
For if min herte were golde or precious ſtone
It fhulde be thine without any delay,
With hertely chere thou fhulde have it anone,
Why fuffrift thou me than to ftande alone?
Thou haft I trowe my weping in difdaine,
Or els thou knowift nat what is my paine.
If thou withdrawe thy noble daliaunce
For ought that evir I difplefid the,
Thou knowett right wel i is but ignoraunce,
And of no knowlege for a certainte;
If I' have offendid, Lorde, forgive it me;
Gladde I am for to make ful repentaunce
Of all thing that hath ben to thy grevaunce.
Myne herte, alas! fwellith within my breft,
So fore oppreft with anguishe and with payne,
That al to pecis forfothe it wol breft
But if I fe thy blyfiid corfe againe;
For lyfe ne deth I can nat me refraine :
If that thou make delay thou maiſt be ſure
Myne hert wol lepe into this fepulture.
Alas, my Lorde, why fareft thou thus with me!
My tribulacion yet have in minde;
Where is thy mercy? where is thy pite?
Whiche evir 1 truftid in the to finde :
Sometime thou were to me both gode and kinde;
Lette it plefe the my prayir to accept,
Whiche with my teris I have here bewept.
On me thou oughtiſt to have very routh,
Sith for the onely is al this mourning,
For fith I to the plightid fire my trouthe,
I nevir varyid with difcording,
And that knowift thou best my ownc darling!
Why conftrainiit chou me thus for to wayle?
My wo forfothe can the nothing availe.
I have endurid without variaunce,
Right as thou knewft, thy lovir juſt and trew,
With hert and thought aye at thyn ordinaunce,
Lyke to the faphire, alwaye in one hewe;
I nevir woulde chaungin the for no newe:
Why withdrawift thou the fro my prefence,
Sithins al my thought is for thine abſence?
L1
$30
THE LAMENTACION OF MARIE MAGDÁLEINÉ.
With hert intier, fwete Lorde! I crie to the,
Encline thine cres to my peticioun,
And come velociter exaudi me;
Remembre mine hert'is difpoficioun,
It may not endure in this condicióun,
Therfore out of thefe paines libera me,
And where thou arte pone me juxta te.
Let me beholde, o Jefu ! thy bliffed face,
Thy faire thy gloricus angelike viſage;
Bowe thine eris to my complaint, alas!
For to convey me out of this wode rage:
Alas, my Lorde! take tro me this dommage;
defire for mercy condifcende,
To my
For non but thou may my grevaunce amende.
Now yet, gode Lorde! I the befech and pray,
As thou raifid my brothir Lazarous
From deth to life, that upon the fourth day
Came ayen in body and foule precious,
As gret a thing maiſt thou fhewe unto us
Of thy felf by powir of thy godhed
As thou dyd of him lyinge in grave ded.
Myne hert is woundid with thy charite,
It brennith, it flamith, inceffauntly;
Come, my dere Lorde! ad adjuvandum me 3
Nowe be not longe, my paine to multiplie,,
Left in the mone time I departe and die :
I thy grace I put hope and confidence'
To do as plefith thy magnificence.
Flodis of dethe and tribulacioun
Into my foule I fele entrid ful depe,
Alas, that here' is no confolacioun !
Evir I waile, evir I mourne and wepe,
And forow hath woundid' myn hert ful-depe':
Odere love! no marvaile though that I die,
Sagittæ tuæ inficcæ funt mibi.
Wandringe in this place, as in wildirneffe,
No comforte have I ne yet affuraunce,
Defolate of joys, replete with faintneffe,
No' anfwere receving of mine enquiraunce,
Myne herte alfo grevid with. difplefaunce
Wherfore I may faye, O` Deus, Deus!
Non ef: dolor ficut dolor meus.
}
Myne hert expreffith quod diléxi multum,
may nat endure although I wold faine,
For now folum fupereft fepulchrum,
I know it right wel by my hugè paine,
And thus for love I may not life ſuſtaine;
But, o my God! I mufe what aylith the,
Quod fic repente præcipitas me.
Alas! I fe' it wil none othirwife be,
Nowe muſt I take my leve for evirmore,
This fore paine hath almoft difcomfite me,
My love's corfe I can in no wife reſtore;
Alas to this wo that er I was bore!
Here at this tombe nowe muſt die and ſtarve,
Deth is aboutin my hert for to carve.
My teftament I wol begin to make;
To God the Fathir my foule I commende,
To Jefu my love, that died for my fake,
My herte and al both I gyve and yfende,
In whofe dere love my lyfe ymakith ende,
My body alfo to this monument
I here boqueth, bothe boxe and oyntèment,
Of al my willes, lo! nowe I make the laft
Right in this place within this fepulture
I woll be buried whan I'm ded and paſt,
And on my grave I wol have this fcripture,
Here within reflith a gofily creture,
Chriftis true lovir, Mary Magdala'ne,
Whele berte for love ybracke in pecis traine.
Ye vertuous women, tendir of nature,
Ful of pite and of compaffion,
Reforte I pray you to my fepulture
To
o finge my dirge with grete devocion,
Shewe your charite' in this condicion;
Sing with pite and let your hertis wepe,
Remembring I anr ded, and layd to flepc:
Than whan that ye begin to parte me fro,-
And endid have your mourning obfervaunce,
Remembre where fo evir that ye go
Alway to ferche and make due enquiraunce
Aftir my love, mine hert'is fuftinaunce,
In every towne and in every village,
If ye may here of his noble ymage;
And if it happe by any grace at lafte
That ye my trew love finde in any coft,
Say that his Magdaleine is ded and paſte,
For his pure love hath yeldid up the goft;
Say that of al thing I tovid him moſt,
And that I ne might not this deth efchewe,
My painis fo fore dyd evir renewe.
And in tokin of love perpetual,
Whan I am buried in this place prefent,
Take out myne hert, the very rote and al,
And clofe it within this boxe of oyntment,
To my dcre love make therof a prefent,
Kneling downe with wordis lamentable
Do your meffage, fpeke faire and tretable:
Say that to him my felfin I commende
A thouſand timis, and with herte fo fre
This povir tekin fay to him I fende,
Plefith his godeneffe to take it in gre,
It is his owne of right, it is his fe,
Whiche he afkid whan he faid longe before
Gyve me thy hert and I defire no more.
Adue, my Lorde! my love fo faire of face:
Adue, my turtle dove fo frefle of hoe!
Adue, my mirthe! adue, al my folace!
Adue, alas! my Saviour Lorde Jefu!
Adue, the gentillift that er I knewe!
Adue, my most excellent paramour!
Fairir than rofe, fwetir than iylly flour!
Adue, my hope of plefure eternal!
My lyfe, my welth, and my profperite !
Mine herte of golde, my perle oriental!
Mync adamant of parfite charite!
My chefe refuge and my felicite!
My comforte and my recreaciour!
Farewel, my perpetual falvacioun !
Farewel, mine emperour celeftiak!
And moſt beautiful prince of al mankinde
Adue, my Lord! of hert mofte lyberal!
Farewel, my fwetift bothe foule and mindet
So loving a ſpouſe fhal I nevir finde!
Adue, my foveraine, very gentilman!
Farewel, dere herte! as hertely as I can.
THE LAMENTACIÓN OF MARIE MAGDALÉINE.
331
Thy wordes eloquente flowinge in ſwetneſſe
Shai no more, alas! my minde recomforte,
Wherfore my life muft ende in bittirnefe,
For in t's worlde fhal I nevir reforte
To the, whiche was mine hevinly difporte;
I fe, alas! it wol none othir be:
Nowe farewel, the grounde of al dignite!
Adue, the fairift that evir was bore!
Alas, I may nat fe bleffid face!
your
Nowe welaway that I fhal fe no more
Thy bleffid vifage, fo replete with grace,
Wheria is printid my parfite folace !
Adue, mine hert'is rote and al for ever!
Nowe farith wel, I muft from the difcever!
My foule for anguifhe is nowe ful thruſty;
I faint, I faint, right fore for hevines;
My Lorde, my ſpouſe! cur me dereliquifti?
Sith I for the fuffre al this diftreffe
What caufith the to feme thus mercileffe?
Sith it the plefeth of me to make an ende
In manus tuas my fpirite I commende.
Lij
A
5*37
THE FLOURE AND THE LEAFE,
THE FLOURE AND THE LEAFE,
WRITTEN BY GEOFFERY CHAUCER,
THE ARGUMENT.
A gentlewoman out of an arbour in a grove feeth a great company of knights and ladies in a dance
upon
the green grafs, the which being ended, they all kneel down and do honour to the daifie, fome
to the Flower, and ſome to the Leaf: afterward this gentlewoman learneth by one of thefe ladies
the meaning hereof, which is this; they which honour the Flower, a thing fading with every
blaſt, are ſuch as look after beauty and wordly pleaſure, but they that honour the Leaf, which
abideth with the root notwithſtanding the frofts and winter ſtorms, are they which follow virtue
and during qualities, without regard of worldly refpects.
WHEN that Phoebus his chair of gold ſo hie
Had whirlid up the ftcrrie fky aloft,
And in the Bole was entrid certainly,
When fhouris fote of rain defcendid foft,
Caufing the ground felè timis and oft
Up for to give many an wholeſome air,
And every plain was yclothid faire
With newè grene, and makith fmale flours
To ſpringin here and there in field and mede,
So very gode and wholefome be the fhours,
That they renewin that was old and dede
In wintir time, and out of every fede
Springith the herbè, fo that every wight
Of this fefon wexith richt glade and licht;
And I fo glade of the fefon fwete,
Was happid thus; upon a certain night
As I lay in my bed flepe full unmete
Was unto me, but why that I ne might
Reft I ne wift, for there n'as crthly wight
[As I ſuppoſe] had more of hertis efe
Than 1, for I n'ad fickneffe nor difefe;
$
Wherefore I mervaile gretly of my felf
That I fo long withoutin flepè lay,
And up I rofe thre houris aftir twelfe,
About the ſpringing of the gladſome day,
And on I put my gear and mine aray,
And to a plefaunt grove I gan to pas
Long or the bright fonnè uprifin was, '
In which were okis grete, ftreight as a line,
Undir the which the grafs fo freſhe of hew
Was newly fprong, and an eight fote or nine
Every tre well fro his fellow grew,
[fight;
With braunchis brode ladin with levis new,
That fprongin out agen the fonnè fhene,
Some very rede, and fome a glad light grene,
Which [as me thought] was a right pleſaunt
And cke the birdis fongis for to here
Would have rejoifid any erthly wight,
And I, that couth not yet in no manere
Herin the nightingale of all the yere,
Full bufily herk'nid with hert and cre
If I her voice perceve could any whore :
THE FLOURE AND THE LEAFE.
533
And at the laſt a path of litil brede
I found, that gretly had not ufid be,
For it forgrowin was with grafs and wede,
That well unnethis a wight might it fe;
Thought I, this path fome whidir doth parde;
And fo I followid till it me brought
To a right plefaunt herbir wel ywrought,
Which that benchid was, and with turfis new
Freshly turvid, whereof the grenè graſs
So fmall, fo thick, f fhort, ſo freſh of hew,
That moſt like to grene woll wot I it was;
The hegge alfo, that yedin in compas,
And clofid in alle the grene herbere,
With fycamor was fet and eglatere
Within, in fere fo well and cunningly,
That every braunch and lefe grew by mefure
Plain as a bord, of an height by and by;
I fe nevir a thing [I you enfure]
So well ydone, for he that toke the cure
It for to make [I trowe] did all his peine
To make it pas all tho that men have ſeine.
And ſhapin was this herber rofe and all
As is a pretty parlour, and alfo
The hegge as thick as is a caftil wall,
That who that lift without to ftond or go,
Thogh he wold all day pryin to and fro
He should not fe if there were any wight
Within or no, but one within well might
Perceve all tho that ycin there without
Into the field, that was on every fide
Cover'd with corn and grafs, that out of doubt
Tho one would fekin all the worldè wide
So rich a feld could not be efpyde
Upon no cost, as of the quantity,
For of alle gode thing there was plenty.
And I, that all thele piefaunt fightis fe,
Thought fuddainly I felt fo fwete an air
Of the eglenter., that certainly
There is no hert [I deme] in fuch difpair,
Ne yet with thoughtis froward and contraire
So úverlaid, but it fhould fone have bote
If it had onis felt this favour fote.
And as I fiode and caſt aſide mine eye
I was ware of the fairift medler tre
That evir yet in all my life I fe,
As full of bloffomis as it might be,
Therein a goldfinch leping pretily
From bough to bough, and as him lift he ete
Here and there of buddis and flouris fwete.
;
And to the herbir fide was adjoyning
This fairiſt tre of which I have you told,
And at the laft the bird began to fing
[Whan he had etin what he etin would]
So paffing fwetely that by many fold
It was more plefaunt than I couth devife
And whan his fong was endid in this wife
The nightingale with fo mery a note
Anfwerid him, that alle the wode yrong
So fodainly, that as it were a fote
I ftode aftonied, and was with the fong
Thorow ravifhid, that till late and long
I ne wift in what place I was ne where,
Ayen methought the fong e'en by mine ere:
Wherefore I waited about bufily
On every fide if I her might fe,
And at the laſt I gan fuil well eſpy
Where fhe fate in a fresh grene laury tre,
On the furthir fide evin right by me,
That gave fo paffing a delicious fmell,
According to the eglantere full well;
When cof I had fo inly grete plefure,
As methought I furely ravifhid was
Into Paradife, wherein my defire
Was for to be, and no ferthir to pas
As for that day, and on the ſotè grafs
I fat me down, for as for mine entent
The birdis fong was more convenient
And more plefaunt to me by many fold
Than mete or drink, or any othir thing,
Thereto the herbir was fo freſh and cold,
The wholfome favours cke fo comforting,
That [as i demid] fith the beginning
Of the world was nevir feen er than
So plefaunt a ground of none erthly man.
And as I fat the birdis herkening thus,
Methought that I herd voicis fuddainly,
The moft fwetift and most delicious
That evir any wight I trow trewly
Herdin in ther life, for the armony
And fwete accord was in fo gode mufike
That the voicis to angels moft were like.
At the laſt out of a grove evin by
[That was right godely and plefaunt to fight]
I fe where there came finging luftily
A world of ladies, but to tell aright
Ther beauty grete lyith not in my might,
Ne ther array; nevirth lefs I fhall
Tell you a part tho' I fpeke not of all:
The furcots white of velvet well fitting
They werin clad, and the femis eche one,
As it werin a mannir garnifhing,
Was fet with emeraudis one and one
By and by, but many a rich ſtone
Was fet on the purfilis out of dout
Of collours, fleves, and trainis, round about;
As of grete perlis round and orient,
And diamondis fine and rubys red,
And many othir ftone of which I went
The namis now; and everich on her hede
A rich fret of gold, which withoutin dređe
Was full of ſtately rich ftonys ſet,
And every lady had a chapelet
On ther hedis of braunchis freſh and grene,
So wele ywrought, and fo marvelouſly,
That it was a right noble fight to fene,
Some of laurir, and fome full ple fauntly
Had chaplets of wodebind, and fadly
Some of agnus caftus werin alfo,
Chaplets frefh; but there were many of tho
That dauncid and eke fong full fobirly,
But all they yede in maner of compace;
But one there yede in mid the company
Sole by herfelf; but all follow'd the pace
That the kept, whofe hevinly figured face
So plefaunt was, and her wele fhape perſon,
That of beauty fhe paſt them everichone,
L Iiij
534
THE FLOURE AND TIE LEAFE.
And more richly befeen by many fold
he was alfo in every manir thing;
Upon her hede full plefaunt to behold
A coron of gold rich for any king,
A braunch of agnus caftus eke bering
In her hand, and to my fight trewily
She lady was of all the company;
And she began a roundell luftily
That Sus le foyle de vert moy men call
Sine & mon jolý cœur eft endormy,
And than the company anfwerid all,
With voicis fwete entunid and ſo ſmall,
That methought it the fweteft melody
That evir I herd in my life fothly.
And thus they all came dauncing and finging
Into the middis of the mede echone
Before the herbir where I was fitting,
And God wot I thought I was well bigone,
For than I might avife them one by one
Who fairift was, who beft could dance or fing,
Or who most womanly was in all thing.
They had not dauncid but a little throw
When that I herd not fer of fodainly
So grete a noiſe of thundering trumpis blow
As though it fhould have departid the ſkic,
And aftir that within a while I fie
From the fame grove where the ladies came out
Of men of armis coming fuch a rout
As all men on erth had ben affemblid,
On that place well horfid for the nonis,
Stering fo faft that all the erth tremblid;
But for to fpeke of richis and ftonis,
And men and horfe, I trow the large wonis
Of Pretir John, ne all his trefory,
Might not unneth have bought the tenth party.
Of their array whofo lift to hcre more,
I fhall reherfe fo as I can a lite,
Out of the grove that I fpcke of before
I fe come firſt, all in their clokis white,
A company that wore for ther delite
Chapelets fresh of okis ferial
But newly fprong, and trumpets were they all;
On every trump hanging a brode bannere
Of fine tartarium, full richly bete,
Every trumpet his lord'is armis bere
About ther neckis, with grete perlis fete,
Collaris brode, for çoft they wou'd not lete,
As it would feem, for ther fcochons echonc
Were fet about with many a precious ftone;
Ther horfis harneis was all white alfo;
And aftir them next in one company
Camin kingis at armis and no mo,
In clokis of white cloth with gold richly,
Chaplets of grene on ther heds on hyc,
The crownis that they on ther fotchons bere
Were fet with perl, and ruby, and faphere,
And eke grete diamondis many one;
But all ther horfis harneis and other gere
Was in a fute according everichone,
ye
As have herd the forefaid trumpets were,
And by feming they were nothing to lere,
And ther guiding they did ſo manirly;
And aftir them came a gret company
Of heraudeis and purfevauntis eke,
Arrayid in clothis of white velvet,
And hardily they were nothing to feke
How they on them fhouldin the harneis fet,
And every man had on a chapèlet.
Scotchonis and eke horfe harneis in dede
They had in fute of them that 'fore them yede.
Next after theſe appere in armour bright,
All fave ther hedis, femely knightis nine,
And every clafp and nail, as to my fight,
Of ther harncis were of red gold fo fine,
With cloth of gold, and furrid with ermine,
Were the tappouris of their ftedis ftrong,
Both wide and large, that to the ground did hong;
And every bofs of bricile and paitrel
That they had on was worth, as I would wene,
A thouſand pound; and on ther hedis well
Dreffid were crounis of the laurir grene,
The beft ymade that evir I had fene;
And every knight had aftir him riding
Thre henchmen, ftill upon him awaiting;
Of which every (frft) on a fhort trunchon
His lord'is helmet bore fo richly dight
That the word of them was worth the ranfoune
Of any king; the fecond a fhield bright
Bare at his back; the thred barin upright
A mighty fpere, full fharp yground and kene,
And ev ry child ware of levis grene
A fresh chap'let upon his hairis bright;
And clokis white of fine velvet they were,
Ther fedis trappid and arayid right,
Without difference as ther lordis were;
And aftir them on many' a fresh courfere
There came of armid knightis fuch a rout
That they befprad the large field about;
And all they werin, aftir ther degrees,
Chappelets new, or made of laurir grene,
Or fome of oke, or ſome of othir trees,
Some in ther hondis barin boughis faene,
Some of laurir, and fome of okis bene,
Some of hawthorne, and fome of the wodcbind,
And many mo which I have not in mind.
And fo they came ther horfe freſhly ſtirring
With bloudy fownis of theṛ trompis loud;
There fe I many' an uncouth difguifing
In the array of thilke knightis proud;
And at the laſt as evenly as they coud
They toke ther place in middis of the mede,
And every knight turnid his horfis hede
[man,
To his felow, and lightly laid a fpere
Into the reft, and fo juftis began
On cv'ery part aboutin here and there;
Some brake his fpere, fome threw down horfe and
About the felde aftray the ftedis ran;
And to behold their rule and govirnaunce
I you enfure it was a grete plefaunce.
And fo the juftis laft an hour and more,
But tho that crownid were in laurir grene
Did win the prife; their dintis were fo fore
That there was none agenft them might fuftene,
And the jufting aliè was left off clene;
And fro ther horfe the nine alight anon,
And fo did all the remnaunt everichone,
1
[
THE FLOURE AND THE LEAFE.
535
And forth they yede togidir twain and twain,
That to behold it was a worthy fight,
Toward the ladies on the grenè plain,
'That fong and dauncid, as I faid now right;
The ladies as fone as they godely might
They brakin off both the fong and the daunce,
And yede to mete them with full glad femblaunce:
And every lady toke full womanly
By the hond a knight, and fo forth they yede
Unto a faire laurir that ſtode faſt by,
With levis laid, the boughis of grete brede,
And to my dome ther nevir was indede
A man that had fene half fo faire a tre,
For undirneth it there might well have be
An hundrid perfons at ther own plefaunce
Shadowid fro the hete of Phoebus bright,
So that they fhouldin have felt no grevaunce
Neithir for rain, ne haile, that them hurt might;
The favour cke rejoice would any wight
That hed be fick or melancholious,
It was fo very gode and vertuous.
And with grete rev'rence they enclinid low
Unto the tre fo fote and fair of hew,
And aftir that within a litil throw
They all began to fing and daunce of new;
Some fong of love, fome plaining of untrew,
Environing the tre that ftode upright,
And evir yede a lady and a knight.
And at the last I caft mine eie afide,
And was ware of a lufty company
That came roming out of the feldè wide,
And hond in hond a knight and a lady,
The ladies all in furcotes, that richly
Purfilid were with many a rich ftone,
And every knight of grene ware mantlis on,
Embroulid wele, fo as the furcots were,
And everich had a chapelet on her hed,
[Which did right wele upon the shining here]
Makid of godely fleuris white and red,
The knightis eke that they in hondè led
In fute of them ware chaplets everichone,
And before them went minilrcls many one,
As harpis, pipis, lutis, and fautry,
Allè in grene, and on ther hedis bare
Of diverfe flouris made full craftily,
All in a fute, godely chaplets tl ey ware,
And fo dauncing into the mede they fare,
In mid the which they found a tuft that was
All ovirfprad with flouris in compas,
Whereto they enclined evèrichone
With grete reverence, and that full humbly;
And at the laſt there tho began anon
A lady for to fing right womanly
A bargaret in praifing the daiſie,
For (as methought) among her notis fwete
She faid Si douce eft la Margarete !
Then they all: anfwerid her in fere
So paflingly well and fo plefauntly,
That it was a moft blisfail noife to here;
But I'not how it happid, fodainly
As about none the fonn fo fervently
Waxe hote that the pretty tendir floures
Had loft the beauty of their freth colleurs.
For fhronke with hete the ladies cke to brent,
That they ne wift where they them might beftow,
The knightis fwelt, for lack of fhade nie fhent,
And aftir that within a litil throw
The wind began fo fturdily to blow
That down goth all the flowris everichone,
So that in all the mede there laft not one,
Save fuch as fuccoured were among the leves
Fro every ftorme that mightè them affaile,
Growing undir the heggis and thick greves;
And aftir that there came a ftorme of haile
And rain in fere, fo that withoutin faile
The ladies ne the knightis n'ade o' thred
Dry on them, fo drooping wet was ther wede.
And when the ftorme was clene paffid away
Tho in the white, that ftode undir the tre,
They felt nothing of all the grete affray
That they in grene without had in ybe;
To them they yede for routh and for pite,
Them to comfort aftir their grete difefe,
So fain they were the helpleffe for to efe.
Than I was ware how one of them in grene
Had on a coron rich and well-fitting,
Wherefore I demid well he was a quene,
And tho in grene on her were awaiting;
The ladies then in white that were coming
Towardis them, and the knightis in fere,
Began to comfort them and make them chere.
'The quene in white, that was of grete beauty,
Toke by the honde the quene that was in grene,
And feide, Suftir, I have grete pity
Of your annoy and of your troublous tene
Wherein ye and your company have bene
So long, alas! and if that it you plefe
To go with me I fhall do you the efe
In al the plefure that I can or may:
Whereof that othir, humbly as he might,
Thankid het, for in right evil array
She was with ftorme and hete I you behight;
And every lady then anon right
That were in white one of them toke in grene.
By the hond, which when the knightis had fene
In like manir eche of them toke a knight
Clad in the grene, and forth with them they fare
To an hegge, where that they anon right
To makin thefe juftis they would not ſpare
Boughis to hew down, and eke trees to fquare,
Wherewith they made them ftately firis grete
To dry ther clothis, that were wringing wete:
And aftir that of herbis that there grew
They made for bliftirs of the fonne brenning
Ointmentis very gode, wholfome and new,
Where that they yede the fick fat anointing;
And aftir that they yede about gadring
Plefant faladis, which they made them ete
Fer to refreshe ther grete unkindely hete.
The lady of the Lefè then gan to pray
Her of the Floure [for fo to my feming
They should be callid as by ther array |
To foupe with her, and eke for any thing
That the fhould with her all her pepill bringe,
And the ayen in right godely manere
Thankith her faft of her moft frendly chere,
L 1
536
THE FLOURE AND THE LEAFE.
Saying plainèly that he would obay
With all her hert all her commandèment;
And then anon without lengir delay
The lady of the Lefe hath one yfeut
To bring a palfray aftir her intent,
Arrayid wele in fair harneis of gold,
For nothing lackid that to him long fhold:
And aftir that to all her company
She made to purvey horfe and every thing
That they nedid, and then full haftily
Even by the herbir where I was fitting
They paffid all, fo merrily finging
That it would have comfortid any wight:
But then I fe a paffing wondir fight,
For then the nightingale, that all the day
Had in the laurir fete, and did her might
'The whole fervice to fing longing to May,
All fodainly began to take her flight,
And to the lady of the Lefe forthright
She flew, and fet her on her hand ſoftly,
Which was a thing I mervail'd at gretly.
The goldfinch eke, that fro the medlar tre
Was fled for hete unto the bufhis cold,
Unto the lady of the Flowre gan fle,
And on her hond he fet him as he wold,
And plefauntly his wingis gan to fold,
And for to fing they peine them both as fore
As they had do of all the day before.
And fo thefe ladies rode forth a grete pace,
And all the rout of knightis eke in fere;
And I that had fene all this wondir cafe
Thought that I would affay in fome manere
To know fully the trouth of this mattere,
And what they were that rode fo plefauntly:
And when they were the herbir paflid by
I dreft me forth, and happid mete anon
A right fair lady, I do you enfure,
And she came riding by her felf alone,
Allè in white, with femblaunce full demure;
I her falued, bad her gode avinture
Mote her befall, as I coud moft humbly,
And the anſwered, My doughtir, gramercy!
Madame, quoth I, if that I durft enquere
Of you, I wold fain of that company
Wit what they be that paffed by this harbere.
And the ayen anfwerid right frendly,
My doughtir, all tho that paffid hereby
In white clothing be fervants everichone
Unto the Lefe, and I my felf am one.
Se ye not her that crownid is (quod fhe)
Allè in white? Madame, then quod I, Ycs.
That is Dian, goddeſs of Chaſtity,
And for bicaufe that fhe a maidin iş
Into her hond the branch fhe berith this
That agnus caftus men call propirly;
And all the ladies in her company
Which ye fe of that herb. chaplets were
Be fuch as han alwey kept maidinhede,
And all they that of laurir chaplets bere
Be fuch as hardy were in manly dede,
Victorious, name which nevir may be dede
And all they were fo worthy of their honde
In their time that no one might them withſtonde;
1
And tho that were chapèlets on ther hede
Of fresh wodebind be fuch as nevir were
To Love untrue in word, in thought, ne dede,
But ay itedfaft, ne for plefance ne ferc,
Tho that they fhulde ther hertis all to tere,
Woud never flit, but evir were ftedfaft
Till that ther livis there affundir braft.
Now, fair Madam! quod 1, yet woud I pray
Your ladiſhip [if that it mightin be]
That I might knowe by fome manir of wey,
Sithin that it hath likid your beaute
The trouth of thefe ladies for to tell me,
What that theſe knightis be in rich armour,
And what tho be in grene and were the Flour,
And why that fome did rev'rence to the tre,
And fome unto the plot of flouris fair?
With right gode wil, my doughtir fair! quod fhe,
Sith your delire is gode and debonaire :
Tho nine crounid be very exemplaire
Of all honour longing to chivalry,
And thofe certain be clept The Nine Worthy
Which that ye may fe riding all before,
That in ther time did many' a noble dede,
And for ther worthiness full oft have bore
The crown of laurir levis on ther hede,
As ye may in your oldè bokis rede,
And how that he that was a conqueror
Had by laurir alwey his moft honour :
And tho that barin bowes in ther hond
Of the precious laurir fo notable
Be fuch as were [I woll ye undirſtond]
Mot noble Knightis of The Round Table,
And eke the Doufeperis honourable,
Which they bere in the fign of victory,
As witness of ther dedis mightily:
Eke ther be Knightis old of the Gartir,
That in ther timis did right worthily,
And the honour they did to the laurir
Is for by it they have ther laud wholly,
Ther triumph eke and martial glory,
Which unto them is more perfite riches
Than any wight imagin can or gelle;
For one Lefe givin of that noble tre
To any wight that hath done worthily
[An it be done fo as it ought to be]
Is more honour than any thing erthly,
Witnefs of Rome, that foundir was truly
Of all knighthode and dedis marvelous,
Record I take of Titus Livius.
And as for her that crounid is in grene,
It is Flora, of thefe flouris goddeffe,
And all that here on her awaiting bene
It are fuch folk that lovid idleneffe,
And not delite in no kind befineſſe
But for to hunt, and hawke, and pley in medes,
And many othir fuch like idle dedes.
And for the grete delite and the plefaunce
They have to the Flour, and fo reverently
They unto it doin fuch obeifaunce,
As ye may ſe. Now, fair Madame ! quod I,
[If I durft afk] what is the cauſe and why
That knightis have the enfigne of honour
Rathir by the Lefè than by the Flour?
THE FLOURE
537
AND THE LEAFE.
Sothly, doughtir, quod fhe, this is the trouth,
For knightes evir fhould be perfevering
To feke honour without fcintife or flouth,
Fro wele to bettir in all manir thing,
In fign of which with levis ay lafting
They be rewardid aftir ther degre,
Whoſe lufty grene may not appairid be,
But ay keping ther beauty freſh and grene,
For ther n'is no ftorme that may them deface,
Ne hail nor fnowe, ne wind nor froftis kene,
Wherfore they have this propirty and grace;
And for the Flour within a litil ſpace
Wollin be loft, fo fimple of nature
They be that they no grevaunce may endure:
And every ſtorme woll blowe them fone away,
Ne they laftè not but for a fefon,
That is the caufe [the very trouth to fay]
That they may not by no way of reſon
Be put to no fuch occupacion.
Madame, quod I, with all mine whole fervife
I thank you now in my most humble wife;
For now I am afcertain'd thoroughly
Of every thing I defirid to knowe.
I am right glad that I have ſaid, fothly,
Ought to your plefure, (if ye will me trow.)
Quod fhe ayen. But to whom do ye owe
Your fervice, and which wollin ye honour
[Pray tell me this year, the Lefe or the Flour?
Madam, quod I, although I left worthy,
Unto the Lefe I ow mine obfervaunce.
That is, quod fhe, right well done certainly,
And I pray God to honour you advaunce,
And kepe you fro the wickid remembraunce
Of Malébouch and all his cruiltie,
And all that gode and well-condition'd be;
For here I may no lengir now abide,
But I must follow the grete company
That ye may fe yondir before you ride;
And forthwith as I couth most humily
I toke my leve of her, and ſhe gan hie
Aftir them as faft as evir fhe might,
And I drow homeward, for it was nigh night,
And put all that I had fene in writing,
Undir fupport of them that luft it rede.
O little boke! thou art fo unconning,
How darft thou put thy felf in prees for drede ?
It is wondir that thou wexift not rede,
Sith that thou woft full lite who fhall behold
Thy rude langage full boyſtouſly unfold.
A
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$38
THE COURT OF LOVE
THE COURT OF LOVE.*
WITH timerous herte and trembling hand of drede,
Of cunning nakid, bare of eloquence,
Unto the flour of port in womanhede
I write, as he that none intelligence
Of metris hath ne flouris of fentence,
Saufe that me lift my writing to convey
In that I can to plefe her high nobley.
The blofomes fresh of Tulius gardein fote
Prefent thei not, my mattir for to borne,
Poemes of Virgile takin here no rote,
Ne crafte of Galfride may not here fojourne;
Why n'am I cunning? 'o well maie I morne
For lacke of fcience, that I can nat write
Unto the princes of my lyfe aright!
No termes are digne unto her excellence,
So is the fpronge of noble ſtripe and high;
A world of honour and of revèrence
There is in her, this will I teftife:
Caliope, thou fiftir wife and fly,
And thou Minerva! guide me with thy grace,
That langage rude my mattir not deface.
Thy fugir dropis fwete of Helicon
Diftil in me, thou gentle Mufe! I praye,
And the Melpomene I cal anone
Of ignoraunce the mifte to chace awaye,
And geve me grace fo for to write and faie
That the my lady of her worthineſſe
Accept in gre this litil fhort treteffe,
That is entitled thus, The Courte of Love;
And ye that ben metriciens me excufe,
I you befeche, for Venus fake above,
For what I mene in this ye nede not mufe;
And if fo be my lady it refuſe
For lake of ornate fpeche, I wolde be wo
That I prefume to her to writin ſo.
This book is an imitation of The Romaunt of the
Rofe, fhewing that all are fubject to love, what impedi
ments foever to the contrary, containing allo thofe 20
farutes that are to be obterved in The Court of Love.
Urry.
But my entente and all my bufy cure
Is for to write this treteffe as I can,
Unto my lady ftable, true, and fure,
Faithful and kind, fith firſte that fhe began
Me to accept in ſervice as her man;
To her be al the pleſure of this boke,
That when her like the may it rede and loke,
When I was yong, at xviii yere of age,
Lufty and light, defirous of pleſaunce,
Approching on full fade and ripe corage,
Love artid me to do my obfervaunce
To his cftate, and done him obcifaunce,
Commaundinge me The Court of : ove to ſe,
A lite befide the Mounte of Cithere;
There Citherea goddeffe was and quene,
Honourid highly for her majefte,
And eke her fonne, the mighty god I wene,
Cupid the blind, that for his dignite
A M. lovirs worſhipp on ther kne;
There was I bid in paine of deth to pere
By Mercury the wingid meffingere:
So than I went by ſtrange and ferre countrees,
Enquiringe aye what coafte had to it drewe
The Court of Love, and thidirward as bees
At laft I fe the peple gan purfue;
Anon me thought fome wight was ther that knew
Where that the Court was holdin ferre or nic.
And aftir than ful fafte I ganue me hie.
Anon as I them ovirtoke I faid,
Heile, frendis! whethir purpofe ye to wend?
For foth, (quod one) that anſwered lyche a maid,
To Lov'is Courte now go we, gentil frend!
Where is that place, (quod 1) my felowe hend}
At Citheron, Sir, faide he, without doute,
The kinge of Love, and al his noble route,
Dwelling within a caftil rially.
So than apace I journid forth amonge;
And as he faide fo fond I there truly,
For I behelde the touris high and ſtronge,
Y
THE COURT OF LOVE.
539
And high pinaclis large of hight and longe,
With plate of gold befpred on every fide,
And precious fones, the flone werke for to hide.
No faphire of Inde, no rubie riche of price,
There lackid then, nor emèraude fo grene,
Balis Turkis, ne thing to my devife
That may the caftil makin for to fhene,
All was as bright as fterres in wintir bene,
Ard Phoebus fhone to make his pece ageine
For trefpas done to high eftatis tweine:
Venus and Mars, the god and goddeffe clere,
When he them founde in armis cheinid fafte,
Venus was than ful fad of herte and chere,
But Phoebus bemis, freight as is the maſte,
Upon the caftil ginnith he to caft
To plefe the lady, princes of that place,
In figne he lokith aftir Lov'is grace:
For ther n'is god in heven or hel iwys
But he hath ben right foget unto Love,
Jove, Pluto, or what fo ever he is,
Ne creature in crth or yet above,
O this the revers may no wight approve;
But furthirmore the caftill to deferie
Yet fawe I nevir none fo large and hie,
For unto heven it ſtretchith I ſuppoſe,
Within and out depcintid wondirly,
With many' a thousand daify rede as rofe,
And white alfo, this fawe I verily,
But what tho deifis might do fignific
Can I not tel, faufe that the quen'is floure
Alcefte it was, that kept ther her fojoure
Which undir Venus lady was and quene,
And Admete kyng and foverain of that place,
To whom obeied the ladies gode xix,
With many' a thouſand othir bright of face,
And young men fele came forth with lufti pace,
And agid eke, ther homage to diſpoſe,
But what they were I could not well difclofe.
Yet nere and nere forth in I gan me dreſſe
Into an halle of noble apparaile,
With arras fpred and cloth of gold I geffe,
And othir filke of cfyir availe;
Undir the cloth of ther eſtate, fauns faile,
The king and quene there fat, as I beheld;
It patlid joye of Helife the feld
There faintis have ther cominge and reforte
To feen the kinge ſo rially befene
In purple clad, and eke the quene in forte,
And on ther heddis fawe I crounis tweine
With ftonis fret, fo that it was no paine
Withoutin mete and drinke to ftand and fe
The king'is honor and the rialte.
And for to trete of ftatis with the king,
That ben of counfell chefe, and with the quene;
The king had Daungir nere to him ftanding,
The quene of Love Difdain, and that was fene,
For by the faith 1 fhal to God I wene
Was nevir fraungir none in her degre
Than was the quene in caftinge of her eye.
And as I ftode perceving her aparte,
And eke the bemis fhininge of her eyen,
Me thought they werein fhapin lyche a darte,
Sharpe and perfinge, fmale and freight as a line,
And al her here it fhone as golde fo fine,
Disfhivil, crifpe, doune hanging at her backe
A yard in length, and fouthely than I fpake:
O bright Regina! who made the ſo faire?
Who made thy colour vermelet and white?
Wher wonneth the god, how far above the cyre?
Grete was his crafte, and grete was his delite;
Now marvil I nothing that ye do hight
The quene of Love, and occupie the place
of Cithare: now, fwete lady! thy grace.
In mewit fpake I, fo that nought afterte
By no condicion word that might be hard,
But in my inward thought I gan adverte,
And oft I ſaid My wit is dul and hard,
For with her beautie thus God wot I ferde
As doeth the man yraviſhid with fight,
When I beheld her criſtal eyen ſo bright,
No respecte havyng what was befte to done,
Till right anone beholding here and there
I fpied a frend of myne, and that ful fone,
A gentil woman, was the chambirere
Unto the quene, that hote as ye fhall here,
Philobone, that lovid al her life;
Whan fhe me fey fhe led me forth as blife,
And me demaundid how and in what wife
I thithir come, and what my erand was?
To fene the Courte (quod 1) and al the guiſe,
And eke to fue for pardon and for grace,
And mercy afke for al my grete trefpaffe;
That I none critc come to The Court of Love
Forycve me this, ye goddis al above.
That is well faid (quod Philobone') in dede;
But were ye not affomoned to appere
By Mercurius, for that is al my drede?
Yes, gentill feire! (quod I) now am I here.
Ye, yet what tho though that be true, my dere?
Of your fre wil ye fhuld have come unfente,
For ye did not I deme ye will be fhente:
For ye that reigne in youth and luftines,
Pampired with eſe, and jalous in your age,
Your dutie is, as far as I can geſſe,
To Lov'is Courte to dreffin your viage
Affone as Nature makith you fɔ fage
That ye may know a woman from a fwan,
Or whan your fote is growin halfe & ſpar.
But the that ye by wilful negligence
This xviii yere hath kept your felfe at large
The gretir is your trefpas and offence,
And in your neck you mote bere all the charge;
For bettir were ye ben withoutin barge
Amidde the fe in tempeft and in rayne
Then bidin here receving wo and pain
That ordeined is for foche as them abfente
Fro Lov'is Courte by yeris long and fele;
I ley my life ye fhal ful fone repente,
For Love wil reive youre coloure, luft, and hele,
Eke ye muft baite on many' an hevy mele:
No force iwis, I fired you longe agon
To drawe to Courte, quod litil Philobon;
Ye thal wel fe how rough and angry face
The king of Love will ſhewe when ye him fe;
By myn adviſe kncle down and afke him grace,
Efchewing peril and adverfite,
2
540
THE
COURT OF LOVE.
^
For wel I wot it wolle none othır be:
Comforte is none ne council to your cfe,
Why wil ye then the king of Love difplefe?
Omercie, God! (quod icle) I me repent,
Caitife and wretche, in hert, in wil, and thought,
And aftir this fhal be mine whole entent
To ſerve and plefe, how dere that love be bought;
Yet fith I have mine owne penaunce ifought
With humble fpirite ſhal I it receve,
Though that the king of Love my life bereve;
And though that fervent Lov'is qualite
In me did nevir worche truly, yet I
With al obeifaunce and humilite,
And benigne herte, fhal ferve him til I die;
And he that lord of might is grete and hie
Right as him lift me chaftice and correcte,
And punifhe me, with trefpoce thus enfecte.
Thefe wordis faid, fhe caught me by the lap,
And led me furth in til a temple round,
Bothe large and wide, and as my bleflid hap
And gode avinture was right fone I founde
A tabernacle reifid from the grounde
Where Venus fat and Cupid by her fide,
Yet half for drede I can my vifage hide;
And eft againe I lokid and behelde,
Scing ful fundry peple in the place
And miftir folke, and fome that might not welde
Ther limmis wele me thought a woundir caſe,
The temple fhone with windowes al of glaffe
Bright as the day, with manie' a faire ymage,
And there I fe the frefhe Quene of Carthage,
Dido, that brent her beaute for the love
Of fals i cas, and the weimenting
Of her Anelida, true as turtil dove
To Arcite fals; and there was in peinting
Of many' a prince and many' a doughty king
Whofe martirdom was fhewed about the walles,
And how that fele for love had fuffrid falles.
Eut fore I was abafhid and aftonied
Of al tho folke that there were in that tide,
And than I alkid where they haddin woned?
In divers com tis, (quod fhe) here beſide :
In fondrie clothing mantilwife full wide
They were arruied, and did ther facrifice
Unto the god and goddeffe in ther guife.
Lo, yondir folke (quod fhe) that knele in blewe,
They were the colour ay and evir fhal,
In figne they were and evir wil be true,
Withoutin chaunge, and fouthely yondir all
That ben in blak, with mourning crie and call
Unto the goddes, for ther lovis bene
Some ferie, fom dede, fom al to fherpe and kene.
Yea, than, (quod 1) what done thefe preftis here,
Nonnis, and hermites, freris, and all tho
That fit in white, in ruflèt, and in grene?
Forlothe (quod fhe) they wailin of ther wo.
✪ mercie, Lord! may they fo come and gʊ
rely to Court, and have foche libertic?
Yea, men of eche condiciou and degre.
And women cke, for truly there is none
*xception made, ne nevir was ne may;
This Courte is ope and fre for everichone;
The king of Love he will not lay them nay;
He takith al in pore or riche array
That mekely fewe unto his excellence
With al ther herte and al ther reverence.
And walking thus aboute with Philobone
Ife where come a meffengere in hie [anone
Streight from the king, whiche let commaunde
| Throughout the Courte to make an ho and crie,
All new come folke abide; and wote ye why?
The king's luft is for to feen you fone:
Come nere; let fe; his wil mote nede be done.
Than gan I me preſent tofore the king
Trembling for fere, with vifage pale of hewe,
And many' a lovir with me was kneling,
Abafhed fore, til unto the time they knewe
The fentence yeve of his entent full trew ;
And at the last the king hath me behold
With fterne vifage, and feid, What doth this olde,
Thus ferre ytope in ycris, com fo late
Unto the Courte? For fothe, my liege, (quod I)
An hundrid tyme I have ben at the gate
Afore this tyme, yet coude i ner efpic
Of myne acqueintaunce eny in mine cyc,
And Shamefoftnes away me ganne to chace,
But now I me fubmitte unto your grace.
Wel, al is pardoned, with condicion
That thou be trew from hensforth to thy might,
And fervin Love in thine entencion;
Swere this, and than as ferre as it is right
Thou fhalte have grace here in my quen'is fight
Yes, by the faith I owe your crown I fwere,
Though Deth therfore me thirlith with his fpere.
And whan the kinge had fene us everychone
He let commaunde an officir in hie
To take our faith, and fhew us one by one
The ftatutes of the Courte full befily :
Anon the boke was leide before ther eye,
To rede and fe what thing we must obferve
In Lev'is Courte till that we dye and iterve.
And for that I was lettrid there red
The ftatutes whole of Lov'is Courte and hall.
The firfte ftatute that on the boke was fpied
Was to be true in thought and dedis al
Unto the king of Love, the lorde ryall,
And to the quene as faithful and as kinde
As I coude thinke with herte, and will, and minde.
The feconde ſtatute fecretly to kepe
Council of Love, not blowing every where
Al that I knowe, and let it finke and flete;
may not fowne in every wight'is ere,
Exiling flaundir ay for dred and fere,
And to my lady whiche I love and ferve
Be true and kinde, her grace for to deſerve.
It
The thirde fatute was clerely writ alfo,
Withoutin chaunge to live and die the fame,
None othir love to take for wele ne wo,
For blinde delite, for erneft nor for game,
Without repent, for laughing or for grame,
To bidin ftil in ful perfeveraunce;
Al this was whole the king'is ordinaunce.
The fourth ftatute to purchace er to here
And firin folke to love, and betin fire
On Venus auter here aboutc and there,
THE
341
COURT
LOVE.
OF
And preche to them of Love and hote defire,
And tel how Love wil quitin wel ther hire;
This must be kept; and loth me to difolefe
If Love be wroth paffe, for therby is efe.
The V. ftatute not to be daungirous
If that a thought would reve me of my ficpe,
Nor of a fight to be ovir fquemous,
And fo verely this ftatute was to kepe,
To turne and wallowe in my bed and wepe
When that my lady of her cruiltie
Would from her herte exilin al pite.
The VI ftatute it was for me to uſe
Alone to wandir voide of company,
And on my lad'is beautie for to mufe,
And to thinkin no force to live or die,
And eft again to thinke the remedy
How to her grace I might anon attain,
And tel my wo unto my fovèraine.
The VII. ftatute was to be pacient
Whethir my lady joyful were or wroth,
For wordis glad or hevy diligent,
Whedir that fhe me heldin iefe or loth,
And hereupon I put was to mine othe
Her for to ferve and lowely to obey,
And fhewe my chere ye xx fith aday.
The VIII. ftatute, to my rememberaunce,
Was for to fpeke and pray my lady dere
With hourely labour and gret entendaunce
Me for to love with al her herte entere,
And me defire and make me joyful chere,
Right as he is furmouning every faire,
Of beautie wel, and gentil, debonaire.
The IX. ftatute, with lettris writ of golde,
This was the ſentence, how that I and al
Shulde evir dred to be to ovirbolde
Her to difplefe, and truly ſo I ſhal,
But ben content for al thing that may fal,
And nickely take her chaſtiſement and yerde,
And to offende her evir ben aferde.
The X. fiatute was egally to' difcerne
Betwene the lady' and thine abilite,
And thinke thy felfe arte nevir like to yerne
By right her mercy nor of equite,
But of her grace and womanly pite,
For though thy felfe be noble in thy ftrene
A thoufaude folde more nobil is thy quene.
Thy liv'is lady and thy fovèraine,
That hath thin herte all whole in govirnaunce,
Thou majeft no wife it takin to difdaine
To put the humble at her ordinaunce,
And give her fre the reine of her plefaunce,
For Libertie is thing that women loke,
And truely els the mattir is acroke.
The XI. flatute thy fignis for to knowe
With eye and ingir, and with fimilis fofte,
And lowe to couche, and alwaie for to thowe
For drede of (pyis for to winkin ofte,
But fecretly to bryng a figh alofte,
And cke beware of ovir moche reforte,
For that para venture fpillith all thy fport.
The XII. ftatute remembir to obferve,
For all the paine thou haft for love and wo
All is to lite her mercie to deferve;
Thou muften then thinke wher er thou ride or go,
And mortall woundis fuffre thou alfo,
All for her fake, and thinke it well befette
Upon thy love, for it maie not be bette.
The XIII. ftatute whilome is to thinke
What thing maie beft thy ladie like and plefe,
And in thine hert'is botome let it finke;
Some thing devife, and take for it thine efe,
And fende it her, that mate her herte appefe,
Some herte or ryng, or lettir or devife
Or precious ftone; but fpare not for no price.
The XIV. ftatute cke thou shalt affaie
Firmely to kepe the mofte parte of thy life;
Wife that thy ladie in thine armis laie,
And nightly dreme thou haft thy nighte's herte's
Swetly in armis, ftrainyng her as blife,
And when thou feeft it is but fantafie
Se that thon fing not ovir merily;
For To mocke joye bath often wofull ende ;
It longith eke, this ftatute for to holde,
To deme thy ladie evirmore thy frende,
And thinke thy felf in no wife a cocolde;
In every thing ſhe doeth but as the fhould:
Conftrue the beft, beleve no talis newe,
For Many a lye is talde that femeth full trve ;
[wife
But thinke that the, ſo bounteous and faire,
Coud not be falſe; imagine this algate;
And think that tonges wickid would her appaire,
Slanderyng her name and worshipfull eftate,
And lovirs true to fettin at debate;
And though thou feeft a faute right at thine eye
Excuſe it blive, and glofe it pretilie.
The XV. ftatute ufe to fwere and ftare,
And counterfeite a lefyng hardily
To fave thy ladie's honour every whare,
And put thy felf to fightin boldily;
Saie the is gode, vertuous, and ghoſtly,
Clere of entent, and herte, and thought, and will;
And argue not for refon ne for fill
Againe thy ladie's plefure ne entent,
For Love will not be counterpleted in dede;
Saie as the faieth, then ſhalt thou not be fhent,
The crowe is white. Ye, truly fo I rede.
And aye what thing that the the will forbede
Efchue al that, and give her foverainte;
Her appetite folowe in all degre.
The XVI. ftatute kepe it if thou maie,
Seven fith at night, thy ladie for to plefe,
And feven at midnight, fe'ven at morow daie,
And drinke a caudill erely for thine efe :
Doe this, and kepe thine hedde from all difefe,
And winne the garlande here of lovirs all
That evir came in Court or evir fhall.
Full fewe think I this ftatute hoid and kepe,
But truely this my refon giveth me fele
That fome lovirs fhould rather fail aflepe
Then take on hand to plefe fo oft and wele:
There laie none othe to this ftatute adele,
But kepe who might as gave him his corage:
Now get this garlande luftie folke of age,
Now win who maie ye luitie folke of youth,
This garlande freth, of flouris red and white,
Purple and blewe, and colours fell uncouth,
542
THE COURT OF LOVE.
And I fhall croune him kyng of all delite.
In all the Courte there was not to my fight
A lovir true that he ne was adrede
When he expreffe hath herd the ftatute rede.
The XVII. ftatute, when age approcheth on,
And luft is laied, and all the fire is queint,
As freſhly then thou shalt begin to fonue
And dote in love, and all her image paint
In thy remembraunce till thou gin to faint,
As in the firſt ſeſon thyne herte began,
And her defire, though thou ne maie ne can
Performe thy livyng actuell and luft.
Regiſtir this in thyne rememberaunce
Eke, when thou maift not kepe thy thing from ruft
Yet fpeke and talke of plefaunt daliaunce,
For that fhall make thyne hert rejoyce and daunce;
And when thou maieft no more the game affaic
The ſtatute bidde the praie for them that maie,
The XVIII. ftatute wholy to commende
To pleſe thy ladie is, that thou efchewe
With fluttishneffe thy felf for to offende;
Be joilife, fresh, and fete with thingis newe,
Courtlie with manir, this is all thy due,
Gentill of porte, and lovyng clenlineffe;
This is the thing that likith thy maiftreffe;
And not to wandir liche a dullid affe,
Raggid and torne, difguifid in araie,
Ribaude in fpeche, or out of mefure paffe,
Thy bounde excedyng; thinke on this alwaic;
For Women ben of tendir hertis aye,
And lightly fet ther plefure in a place,
When thei mifthinke they lightly let it paffe.
The XIX. ftatute mete and drinke forgete,
Eche othir daie fe that thou faft for love,
For in the Courte thei live withoutin mete,
Save foche as cometh from Venus al above;
Thei take none hede in pain of grete reprove
Of mete and drinke, for that is all in vaine,
Onely thei live by fight of ther foveraine.
The XX. ftatute, laft of everichone,
Enrolle it in thyne hert'is privite,
To wring and waile, to turne, and figh, and grone,
When that thy ladic abfent is from the,
And eke renewe the wordis all that the
Betwene you twain had faid, and all the chere
That the hath made thy liv'is lady dere.
And le thyne herte in quiete ne in reſt
Sojourne to tyme thou feen thy ladie eftc,
But where fhe won, by fouth, or eft, or weft,
With all thy force now fe it be not lefte;
Be diligent till tyme thy life be refte
In that thou maieft thy ladie for to fe;
This ſtatute was of old antiquite.
An officir of high authorite,
Yclepid Rigour, made us fwere anonc;
He n'as corrupt with parcialite,
Favour, prayir, ne gold that clerely fhone.
Ye thall (quod he) now fwerin her echone,
Both young and old, to kepe in that thei maie
The flatutes truely aftir this daie.
O God! thought I, hard is to make this othe,
But to my powir fhall I them obferve:
In all this worlde n'as mattir halfe fo lothe
To fwere for all, for though my body ferve
I have no might them wholy to oblerve.
But herkin now the cace how it befell;
Aftir my othe was made, the trouthe to tell,
I tournid levis, lokyng on this boke,
Where othir ftatutes were of women fhene,
And right forthwith Rigour on me gan loke
Full angirly, and faied unto the quene
I traitoar was, and chargid me let ben;
There male no man (quod he) the ftatute knows
That long to woman, hie degre ne lowe.
In fecrete wife thei kepin ben full cloſe,
Thei foune echone to liberte, my frende;
Piefaunt thei be, and to ther own purpoſe;
There wote no wight of them but Cod and funde,
Ne naught fhall wit unto the world'is ende ;
The quene hath yeve me charge, in pain to die,
Nevir to rede ae feen them with myne eye;
;
For men fhall not fo nere of counfaill ben
With womanhode, ne knowin of ther guife,
Ne what thei think, ne of ther wit th' engine;
I me report to Salomon the wife,
And migh tie Samplon which begilid thrife
With Dalia was, he wot that in a throwe
There maie no man ftatute of women knowe;
For it pera'venture maie right fo befall
That thei be bounde by Nature to difceve,
And ſpinne and wepe, and fugre ftrew on gal,
The herte of man to ravifhe and to reve,
And what ther tonge as fharpe as fwerde or gleve;
It maie betide this is ther ordinaunce,
So muft the lowlie doen ther obfervaunce,
And kepe the ftatute yevin them of Kinde,
Of foche as Love hath yeve 'hem in ther life;
Men maie not cvete aby turnilh every wind,
Nor waxin wife, nor ben inquifitife
To knowe fecrete of maide, widowe, or wife,
For thei ther ſtatutes have to them referved,
And nevir man to knowe them hath deſerved.
Now dreffe you forth, the god of Love you guide,
Quod Rigour then, and feke the temple briglu
Of Citherea, goddes here befide;
Befeche her by the influence and might
Of all her vertue you to teche aright
How for to ferve your ladies and to plefe,
Ye that ben fped, and fet your herte in efe;
And ye that ben unpurvcied, pray her eke
Comforte you fone with grace and deftinic,
That ye may fet your hert there ye maie like,
In foche a place that it to Love maie be
Honour, and worſhip, and felicitie,
To you for aie. Now goeth by one affent.
Graunt mercie, Sir! (quod we) and forth we went
Devoutly, foft and efie pace, to ſe
Venns the goddes image all of golde,
And there we found a thoufand on ther kne,
Some freſhe and faire, fome dedly to beholde,
In fondrie mantils new, and fome wer olde,
Some paintid were with flamis red as fire,
Outward, to fhewe ther inward hote defire.
With dolefull chere, full fele in ther complaint,
Cried, "Ladie Venus! rewe upon our fore;
"Receive our billes, with teris all bedreint,
i
THE COURT OF LOVE.
543
ང་མ
* We maie not wepe, there is no more in ſtore,
"But wo and pain us frettith more and more;
"Thou bliffefull planet! lovirs sterre fo fhene,
• Have routh on us that figh, and careful ben;
"And puniſhe, ladie, grevoufly, we praie,
The falfe untrue with counterfeite plefaunce
That made ther othe be true to live cr deie;
"With chere affurid and with countinaunce,
*And falfly now thei fotin Lov'is daunce
"Darain of routh, untrue of that thei faied,
(
← Now that ther luft and plefure is alaid.
"Yet efte againe a thouſande nilion,
Rejoycing love, ledyng ther life in bliffe,
"Thei faid, Venus, redreffe of all divifion,
Goddes eternell, thy name heryed is,
By lovirs bonde is knit all thing iwis,
"Beft unto beft, the yerth to watir wanne,
"Birde unto birde, and woman unto man.
"This is the life of joye that we ben in,
"Refemblyng life of hevenly paradife;
* Love is elixir aie of vice and finne,
Love makith hert'is luftie to devife;
"Honour and grace have thei in every wife
"That ben to Lov'is lawc obedient;
"Love makith folke benigne and diligent,
Aie fteryng them to dredin vice and fhame;
"In ther degre it maketh them honourable,
* And ſwete it is of Love to bere the name,
"So that his love be faithfull, true, and ftable;
"Love prunith hym to femin amiable,
"Love hath no faute there it is exerciſed,
But fole with them that have all love difpifcd.
Honour to the, celeftiall and clure
* Goddes of Love, and to thy cellìtude,
"That yeveſt us light ſo ferre doune ftom thy fpere,
Perfying our hertis with thy palchritude;
Compariſon none of fimilitude
Maie to thy grace be made in no degre,
"That haſt us fet with Love in unitie.
"Grete caufe have we to praife thy name and the,
"For thorough the we live in joye and bliffe;
"Bleflid be thou, mofte fovèraine to fe!
66
Thy holy Courte of gladneffe maie not miffe;
A thoufand fith we may rejoyce in this,
That we ben thine with herte and all yfere,
"Enflamid with thy grace and hevenly fere."
Mufyng of tho that fpakin in this wife
I me bethought in my remembèraunce
Myne orifon right godely to devife,
And plefauntly with hert'is obeifaunce
Befeche the goddes voidin my grevaunce,
For I loved eke, faufe that I wift no where,
Yet doun I fet, and faied as ye fhall here:
Fairift of all that evir were or be,
Licour and light to penfife creäture,
Myne whole affiaunce and my ladie fre,
My goddes bright, my fortune, and my ure!
I yeve and yelde my herte to the full fure,
Humbly befechyng, ladie, of thy grace
Me to beftow in fome bleflid place,
And here I vowe me faithfull, true, and kind,
Without offence of mutabilitic,
Humbly to furve while I have wit and mind,
Myne whole affiaunce and my ladie fre,
In thilke place there yé me figne to be;
And fith this thing of newe is yeve me, aie
To love and ferve nedely must I obeie.
Be merciable with thy fire of grace,
And fixe mine herte there beautie is and routh,
For hote I love; determine in no place,
Saufe only this, by God and by my trouth
Troublid I was with flombir, flepe, and fouth,
This ethir night, and in a vifioun
I fe a woman romin up and doune
Of mene ftature, and femely to beholde,
Luftic and fresh, demure of countinaunce,
Yong and well fhap, with here that fhone as golde,
With eyen as criftall, fercid with plefaunce,
And the gan flirre mine herte a lite to daunce,
But fodainlie fre vanifhe gan right there;
Thus I maie faie I love and wote not where,
For what he is ne her dwellyng I n'ot,
And yet I fele that love diftreinith me,
Might iche her knowe, that would I faine God wot,
Serve and obeye with all benignitie,
And if that othir be my deftinie,
So that no wife I fhall her nevir fe,
Then graunt me her that beſt maie likin me,
With glad rejoyce to live in perfite hele,
Devoide of wrathe, repent, or variaunce,
And able me to doe that maie be wele
Unto my ladie with herte's hie plefaunce;
And, mightie goddes! through thy purviaunce
My wit, my thought, my luft, and love, fo guide
That to thine honour I maie me provide
To fet mine hert in place there I maie like,
And gladly ferve with all affeccion ;
Grete is the pain which at mine hert doth ſticke
Till I be fped by thyre eleccion;
Helpe, ladie goddes! that poffeffion
I might of her have that in all my life
I clepin fhal my quene and hert'is wife;
And in the Courte of Love to dwell for ale
My will is, and doin the facrifice,
Daily with Diane cke to fight and fraie,
And holdin werre, as might will me fuffice;
That goddes chafte I kepin in no wife
To ferve; a figge for all her chaſtite!
Her lawe is for religioufite.
And thus gan finifh prayir, laude, and preice,
Whiche that Fyove to Venus on my kne,
And in myne herte to pondir and to peice
I gan anone her image freſhe beautie;
Heile to that figure fwete, and heile to the,
Cupide! (quod I) and roſe and yede my weie;
And in the temple as I yede I feie
A fhrine furmountyng all in ftonis riche,
Of whiche the force was plefaunce to mine eye.
With diamonde or faphire nevir liche
I have none feen, ne wrought fo wondirlie;
So when I met with Philobone in hie
I gan- demaunde whofe is this fepulture?
Forfothe, (quod fhe) a tendir creäture
Is fhrinid there, and Pitie is her name;
She fawe an egle wreke hym on a flie,
And plucke his wing, and eke him, in his game,
!
$44
THE COURT OF LOVE.
And tendir herte of that hath made her die;
Eke fhe would wepe and mourne right pitously
To ſeen a lovir fuffre grete diftreffe;
In all the Courte n'is none, as I do geffe
That coud a lovir half fo well availe,
Ne of his wo the torment or the rage
Afkin, for he was fure withoutin faile
That of his grief the coud the hete aſwage ;
In ftede of Pitie fpedith hote Corage
The mattirs all of Courte; now he is dedde
I me reporte in this to womanhedde;
[pray
Forweile, and wepe, and crie, and fpeke, and
Women would not have pitie on thy plaint,
Ne by that mene to efe thine herte convaie,
But the recevin for ther owne talent,
And faie that Pitie caufith them confent
Of reuth to take thy fervice and thy paine,
In that thou maieft, to plefe thy fovèraine.
But this is counfaill, kepe it fecretly,
(Quod fhe ;) I n'olde for all the worlde about
The quene of Love it wift, and witte ye why?
For if by me this mattir fpringin out
In Courte no lengir fhould I out of doubt
Dwellin, but ſhame in all my life endry:
Now kepe it clofe (quod fhe) this hardily.
Well, all is well now fhall ye feen, fhe faied,
The fairift ladie undir fonne that is:
Come on with me; demene you lich a maide
With ſhamefaft drede, for ye fhall fpeke ywis
With her that is the mirrour, joie, and bliffe,
But fomwhat ftraunge and fad of her demene
She is beware your countinaunce be fene,
Not ovirlight, ne recheleffe, ne to holde,
Ne malaperte, ne rennyng with your tong,
For the will you obeifin and beholde,
And you demaunde why ye wer hens fo long
Out of this Courte, without reſort emong;
And Rofiall her name is hote aright,
Whoſe herte is yet yyevin to no wight.
:
And ye alfo ben, as I undirftonde,
With Love but light avauncid by your worde;
Might ye by hap your fredom makin bond,
And fall in grace with her, and wele accorde,
Well might ye thanke the god of Love and lord,
For fhe that ye fawe in your dreme appere
To love foche one what are thei then the nere?
Yet wote ye what? as my rememberaunce
Me yevith nowe, ye faine where that ye faie
That ye with Love han nevir acquaintaunce
Save in your dreme right late this othir daie;
Why, yes parde, my life that durft I laie
That
ye were caught upon an heth when I
Sawe you complain and figh full pitoufly;
Within an herbir and gardein faire,
Where flowirs growe and herbis vertuous,
Of whiche the favour fwete was and the eire,
There were your felf full hote and amorous;
Ywis ye ben to nice and daungirous;
I would ye now repent and love fome newe.
Naie, by my trothe, I faied, I nevir knewe
The godely wight whofe I fhal be for aye,
Guide me the Lorde, that love hath made and me:
But forthe we went into a chambre gaie
There was Rofiall, womanly to fe,
Whoſe ſtremis, fotill perfyng of her eye,
Mine hert gan thrill for beatie in the ftounde;
Alas (quod ) who hath me yeve this wounde!
And then I drede to fpeke till at the lafte
I grete the ladie reverently and wele,
When that my figh was gone and ovirpaſte,
And doune on knees full humbly gan I knele,
Befechyng her my fervent wo to hele,
For there I toke full purpofe in my mynde
Unto her grace my painfull herte to bynde.
For if I fhall all fully her difcrive
Her hed was rounde by compaffe of Nature,
Her cerc as gold, fhe paffid all on live,
And lillie forehed had this creature,
With livelifhe browis, flawe of colour pure,
Betwene the which was mene diffeveraunce,
From every browe to fhewin a diftaunce;
Her nofe directed ftreght, and even as line,
With forme and fhape thereto convenient,
In which the godis milkewhite path doth ſhine,
And eke her eyen ben bright and orient
As is the fmaragde, unto my judgement,
Or yet theſe fterris hevenly fmall and bright,
Her viſage is of lovely rede and white;
Her mouthe is fhort, and fhitte in litil ſpace,
Flamyng fomdele, not ovir redde I mene.
With pregnaunt lips, and thicke to kiffe percace,
For lippis thinne, not fat, but evir lene,
They ferve of naught, they be not worth a bene,
For if the baffe ben full there is delite ;
Maximian truely thus doeth he write.
But to my purpoſe; I faie white as fnowe
Ben all her tethe, aud in ordir thei ftonde
Of one ftature, and eke her breth I trowe
Surmountith all odours that er I founde,
In fweteneffe, and her body, face, and honde,
Ben fharply flendir ſo that from the hedde
Unto the fote all is but womanhedde.
I holde my pece of othir thingis hidde;
Here thal my foule and not my tong bewrie;
But how fhe was arraied, if ye me bidde,
That fhall I well difcovir you and faie;
A bende of gold and filk full freſhe and gaie,
With her intreffe ybroudirid full wele,
Right finothly kept, and fhinyng every dele;
About her necke a flower of freſh deviſe,
With rubies ſet that luftie were to fene,
And the in goune was light and fommir wife,
Shapin full wele, the colour was of grene,
With aureat fent aboute her fidis clene,
With divers ftonis precious and riche;
Thus was the raied, yet fawe I ner her liche:
For if that Jove had this ladie yfeine,
Tho the faire Calisto ne Alcmena
Thei nevir haddin in his armis leine,
Ne he had lovid the faire Europa,
Ye, ne yet Danae ne Antiopa.
For all ther beautie ftode in Rofiall;
She femid lich a thyng celeftiall,
In bountie, favour, porte, and fimilinefe,
Plefaunt of figure, mirrour of delite,
Gracious to feen, rote of all gentilneffe,
کی
THE COURT OF LOVE.
$45
With angell vifage, luftie, redde, and white;
There was not lack, faufe Daungir had alite
This godely freſhe in rule and govirnaunce,
And fomdele ftraunge ſhe was for her pleſaunce.
And truly fone I toke my leve and went
When fhe had me enquirid what I was,
For more and more impreffin gan the dent
Of Lov'is darte while I behelde her face,
And efte againe I come to fekin grace,
And up I put my bill with fentance clere
That foloweth aftir; rede, and ye shall here:
O, ye freſhe lovelie! of beautie the rote,
That Nature hath formid fo wele, and made
Princes and quene, and ye that maie do bote
Of all my langoure with your wordis glad,
Ye woundid me, ye made me wo beſtad;
Of
grace redreffe my mortall grefe, as ye
Of all my harme the very caucir be.
Now am I caught, and unware fodainly,
With perfaunt ftremis of your eyin clere,
Subjecte to ben and fervin you mekely,
And all your man, ywis, my ladic dere!
Abidyng grace, of whiche I you requere,
That mercileffe ye caufe me not to ſterve,
But guerdon me liche as I maie deſerve;
For by my trothe the dayis of my
breth
I am and will be your in will and herte,
Pacient and meke for you to ſuffir deth
If it require; now rue upon my fmerte
And this I fwere, I nevir fhall out fterte
From Lov'is Courte for none adverfite,
So
ye would rue on my diftreffe and me.
My deftinie, my fate, and houre, I bliffe,
That have me ſet to ben obedient
Onely to you, the floure of all ywis;
I trust to Venus nevir to repent,
For evir redy, glad, and diligent,
Ye fhall me finde in fervice to your grace
Till deth my life out of my body rafe.
Humble unto your excellence fo digne
Enforcing aye my wittis and delite
To ferve and plefe with glad herte and benigne,
And ben as Troilus, Troic's worthie knight,
Or Antonie for Cleopatra bright,
And nevir you me thinkis to renay;
This fhall I kepe unto myne endyng day.
Enprint my fpeche in your memoriall
Sadly, my princes, falve of all my fore
And thinke that for I would becomin thrall,
And ben your ownę, as I have faied before,
Ye muſt of pitie cheriſhe more and more
Your man, and tendir aftir his deferte,
And give hymn corage for to ben experte:
For where that one hath fet his herte on fire,
And findith neithir refute ne plefaunce,
Ne worde of comforte, Deth will quite his hire;
Alas that there ne is none allegaunce
Of all ther wo! alas the grete grevaunce
To love unloved! but ye, my ladie dere!
In other wife maie governe this matere.
Truly gramercie, frende! of your gode will,
And of your profir in your humble wife,
But for your ſervice take and kepe it ftill:
VOL. I.
And wher ye faie I ought you well to' cheriſhe,
And of your grefe the remedie deviſe,
I knowe not why; I n'am acquaintid well
With you, ne wote not fothly where ye dwell.
In art of love I write and fongis make,
That muie be fong in honour of the kyng
And quene of Love, and then I undirtake
He that is fadde fhall then full mery fyng,
And dangirous not ben in every thyng:
Befeche I you but feen my will and rede,
And let your anſwere put me out of drede.
What is your name? reherſe it here, I praie;
Of whens and where, of what condicion,
That je ben of let fe; come of and faie;
Faine would I knowe your difpoficion:
Ye have put on your old entencion,
:
But whate ye mene to ferve me I ne wote,
Saufe that ye faie ye love me woundir hote.
My name, alas my herte! why makes thou ſtraunge?
Philogenet I cal'd am ferre and nere,
Of Cambrige clerke, that nevir thinke to chaunge
Fro you, that with your hevenly ftremis clere
Raviſhe myne herte and ghoft, and all in fere :
Since at the firft I write my bill for grace
Me thinke I fe fome mercie in your face.
And what I mene, by God that al hath wrought,
My bille now makith final mencion,
That ye ben ladie in myne inward thought
Of all myne herte withoutin offencion,
That I befte love, and have fith I begon
To drawe to Courte; lo then what might I ſaie ?
1 yelde me here unto your high nobleye;
And if that I offende, or wilfully
By pompe of herte your precept diſobaie,
Or doen againe your wille unfkilfully,
Or grevin you for erneſt or for plaie,
Correcte ye me right sharply then I praie,
As it is feen unto your womanhede,
And rewe on me, or els I n'am but dede.
Naie, God forbede to feffe you ſo with grace,
And for a word of fugrid eloquence
To have compaffion in fo lityl ſpace!
Then were it tyme that fome of us wer hens;
Ye fhall not finde in me foche infolence :
Aye, what is this! maie ye not fuffre fight?
How maie ye loke upon the candill light,
That clere is and hottir then is myne eye?
And yet ye faied the bemis perſe and frete,
How shall ye then the candill light endrie?
For well wotte ye that hath the ſharpir hete
And there ye bidde me you correct and bete
If ye offende; naie, that maie 'not be doen;
There come but few that fpedin here fo fone,
Withdrawe your eye, withdrawe from prefens
Hurte not your felf through foly with a loke; [ekej
I would be fory fo to make you ficke;
A woman fhould beware eke whom the toke:
Ye beth a clerke, go ferchin wel my boke
If any women ben fo light to winne:
Naie'; abide a while tho ye were all
ye were all my kinne 3
So fone ye maie not win myne hert in truth;
The guife of Court will feen your stedfaftneffe,
And as you doen to have upon you reuth;
M m
546
OF LOVE.
THE
COURT
Your owne deferte and lowly gentilneffe
That will reward you joye for hevineffe,
And tho ye waxin pale, and grene, and dede,
Ye mufte it uſe a while withoutin drede,
And it accept, and grutchin in no wife:
But wheras ye me haftily defire
To bene to love, me thinke ye be not wife;
Cefe of your language, cefe I you requere,
For he that hath this xx yere bene here
May nat optaine; than marvaile I that ye
Be now fo bold of love to trete with me,
A, mercy, hert! my lady and my love,
My rightwife princeffe and my lyv'is guide!
Nowe may I plein to Venus al above
That routhles ye me gave this wounde fo wide:
What have I done? why may it not betide
That for my trouthe I may recevid be?
Alas than your daungir and cruiltie!
In weful houre I gete was, welawey!
In woful hour foftirid and yfedde,
In woful hour yborne. that I ne may
My fuplicacion fwetely have yfpedde;
The frofty grave and cold mufte be my bedde
Withoute ye lift your grace and mercy fhewe,
Death with his exe fo lafle on me doth hewe.
So grete difefe and in fo litil while,
So litil joy that felte I nevir yet,
And at my wo Fortune ginnith to fmyle,
That nevir crft I felte fo harde a fitte;
Confoundid ben my fpirites and my witte
Til that my lady take me to her cure
Whiche I love beite of erthely creature.
But that I like that may I not come by,
Of that I plain that have I habondaunce;
Sorowe and thought they fit me wondir nye;
Me is withhold that might be my plefaunce;
Yet turne again my worldly fufhfaunce,
O lady bright and faufe your faithful true,
And or I die yet ones upon me rewe.
With that I fell in founde and dede as ſtone,
With coloure flaine and wanne as athè pale,
And by the hande fhe caught me up anon;
Arife! (quod fhe) what. have ye dronkin dwale?
Why flepin ye? it is no nitirtale.
Now mercy, fwete! (quod I) iwis affraied.
What thing (quod fhe) hath made you fo difmaied?
Now wote I wel that ye a lovir be,
Your hew is witneffe in this thing, the faid;
If ye were fecret ye might knowe (quod fhe)
Curteile and kinde all this fhuld be aleide;
And now, myne herte! al that I have miffcid
I fhal amend, and fet your herte in efe.
That worde it is (quod I) that doth me plefe.
But this I charge, that ye the flentis kepe,
And breke them not for floth nor ignoraunce;
With that the gan to fmile and laughin depe.
Ywis (quod I) I will do your pleſaunce;
The xvi ftatute doth me grete grevaunce,
But ye mufl that relcffe or modific.
Igraunte, (quod fhe) and fo I wil truly.
And foftely than her coloure gan appeire
As rofe fo red throughout her vifage al,
Wherfore me thinke that it 'is according here
That the of right be clepid Rofial.
Thus have I wonne with wordis gret and final
Some godely worde of her that I love beft,
And truft ſhe ſhall yet fette mine herte in reft,
Goth on, ſhe ſaid to Philobone, and take
This man with you, and lede him al aboute
Within the Courte, and fhewe him for my fake
What lovirs dwel within, and al the route
Of officirs, for he is oute of doute
A ftraungir yet. Come on, (quod Philobone).
Philogenet, with me nowe muſt ye gon.
And ftalking fofte with efy pace i fawe
Aboute the king yftondin environ
Attendaunce, Diligence, and ther felow
Forthirir Aſperaunce, and many one,
Dred to offende there ftode, and not alone,
For there was eke the cruil adverſarye,
The lovirs fo, that cleped is Difpleſure,
Whiche unto me fpake angrily and felle,
And faid, My lady me diffevin fhall;
Trowef thou (quod fhe) that al that fhe did tel
Is true? nay, nay, but undir hony gall
hy birth and hers thei be nothing egal;
Cafte of thine herte for all her wordis white,.
For gode faith fhe lovith the but alite;
And cke remembre thine habilite
May not compare with her, this wel thou wot.
Ye, than come Hope, and faid, My frende, let be„,
Beleve him not; Difpaire he ginnith dote.
Alas, (quod I) here is both cold and hote!
The tone me biddith love, the todir nay,
Thus wote I not what me is beſt to fay;
But wel wote I my lady grauntid me
Iruly to be my wound'is remedy
Her gentilnefle may not infectid be
With doubleneſſe, thus truſt I til I die
So caft I voide Difpairis company,
And takin Hope to council and to frende.
Yea, kepe that wel (quod Philabone) in minde,
And there befide, within a bay windowe,
Stod one in grene ful large of bred and length,
His berd as black as fethirs of the crow,
His name was Luft, of woundir might and ftrength,
And with Delite to argue there he thinkth,
For this was alway his opinion
That love was finne, and fo he hath begonne.
To refon fafte, and ledge auctorite.
Nay, (quod Delite) Love is a vertue clere
And from the foule his progreffe holdith he;
Blinde appetite of Luft doth oftin flere,
And that is finne, for refon lackith there,
For thou doeft think thy neighbour's wife to winncy
Yet thinke it wel that love may not be finne :
For God and feint they love right verily,
Voide of al fynne and vife, this know I well;
Affeccion of flefhe is finne truly,
But verray love is vertue, as I fele,
For verray love may freile defire ackele,
For love is love withoutin any finne.
Nowe flint, (quod Lutte) thou fpekeft not worth a
And there I left them in ther arguing, [pinne.
Roming ferthir into the caftil wide,
And in a cornir Lier ftode talking
THE
547
COURT
LOVE.
OF
Ofiefings faft with Flatery there befide;
He faid that women were attire of pride,
And men were founde of nature variaunte,
And coulde be falfe and fhewin beau femblaunt.
Than Flatiry beſpake, and faid, Iwis,
Se, fo fhe goth on patins faire and fete,
It doth right well; what pretty man is this
That romith here? now truly drink ne mete
Nede I not have, mine herte for joye doth bete
Him to beholde, ſo is he godely freſhe,
It femeth for love his herte is tendre' and nesfhe.
This is the Courte of lufty folke and glad,
And wel becometh ther abite and arraye;
O! why be ſom ſo fory and ſo fadde,
Complaining thus in blak, and white, and gray?
Freris they ben and monkis in gode fay :
Alas for routh! gret dole it is to fene
To fe them thus bewaile and ſory bene.
Se how they crie and wring ther handis whit
For they fo fone went to religion,
And eke the nonnes with vail and wimple plight
Ther thought that they ben in confuſion:
Alas! they fain we fain perfeccion
In clothis wide and lacke our libertie,
But al the finne mote on our frendis be:
For Venus wote we wold as faine as ye,
That bene attirid here and wel beſene,
Defyrin man, and love in our degre
Ferme and faithful, right as ywold the quene:
Our frendis wicke, in tendir youth and grene,
Ayent our will made us religious,
That is the caufe we mourne and wailin thus.
Then faide the monke and freris in the tide,
Wel may we curfe our abbis and our place,
Our ſtatutes fharpe to fing in copis wide,
Chaftély to kepe us oute of Lov'is grace,
And nevir to fele comforte ne folace,
Yet fuffre we the hete of Lovis fire,
And aftir othir happly we defire.
O Fortune courfid! why nowe and wherfore
Haſt thou, they ſaid, berafte us libertie,
Sithe Nature yave us inſtrument in flore,
And appetite to love and lovirs be?
Why mot we fuffer foche adverfite
Diane to ferve and Venus to refuſe?
Ful oftin fythe this matier doth us muſe.
We ferve and honour fore ayenſte our will
Of Chaftite the goddes and the quene;
Us lefir were with Venus bidin ftil,
And have reward for Love, and foget bene
Unto theſe women courtely, freſhe and fhene.
Fortune! we curfe thy whele of variaunce,
Ther we were wel thou revift our plefaunce.
Thus leve I them with voice of plaint and care
In raging wo eriyng ful pitoufly;
And as I yede ful nakid and ful bare
Some I beholde loking diſpiteouſly,
On Povirte that dedly caft ther eye,
And Welaway they cried, and were not faine,.
For they ne might ther glad defire attaine,
For lacke of richeffe worldly and of gode
They banne, and curfe, and wepe, and fain Alas!
That poverte' hath as hent that whilom ſtode
At hert'is ele, and fre, and in gode cafe,
But now we dare not fhew our felfe in place,
Ne us embolde to dwel in company
There as our hert wold love right faithfully.
And yet againewarde fhrikid every nonne,
The pange
of love fo ftrainith them to crie;
Nowe wo the time quod they) that we be boun!
This hateful ordre nife wil doen us die,
We figh and ſobbe, and bleding inwardly,
Freting our felfe with thought and hard complaint,
That nye for love we waxin wode and faint.
And as I ftode beholding here and there
I was ware of a forte ful languiſhing,
Savage and wilde of loking and of chere,
Ther manteilles and ther clothis ey tering,
And ofte they were of Nature complaining,
For they ther membirs lackid fote and hand,
With vilage wry, and blinde I undirſtand.
They lackid fhap and beautie to preferre
Them felf in love, and faid that God and Kind
Hath forgid them to worſhippin the ſterre
Venus the bright, and leftin al behinde
His othir werkis clene and oute of minde,
For othir have ther full fhappe and beautie,
And we (quod they) ben in deformite.
And nye to them there was a company
That have the Suftirs waried and miffaide,
I mene the thre of fatali Deftine,
That be our werdis; fodenly abraide
Oute gan they crie as they had ben affraied,
We curfe (quod they) that evir hath Nature
Yformid us this wofull life to' endure.
And there he was contrite and gan repent,
Confefling whole the wounde that Cithere
Hath with the darte of hote defire him ſent,
And howe that he to Love mufte ſubject be,
Than held he al his fkornis vanite,
And faid hat lovirs lede a bliffid life,
Yong men and olde, and widowe, maid, and wife,
Bereve me, goddeffe, (quod he) of thy might
My ſkornis al and fkoffis that I have,
No powir for to mockin any wight
That in thy ſervice dwel, for I did rave,
This knowe I wel right now, fo God ime fave,
And I fhal be the chief poft of thy faith,
And love uphold, the revers who fo faith.
Diffemble ftode not ferre from him in trouth,
With party mantil, party hode and hofe,
And faid he had upon his lady routh,
And thus he wound him in and gan to glofe,
Of his entent full double I fuppofe,
And al the worlde he ſaid he loved it wele,
But ay me thought he loved her nere adele.
Eke Shamefaßtneſſe was there, as I toke hede,
That bluſhid rede, and darft nat ben aknowe
She lovir was, for therof had the drede;
She ftode and hing her viſage downe alowe,
But foche a fight it was to fene I trowe
As of theſe rofis rody on ther ſtalke,
Ther coud no wight her fpy to fpeke or talke,
In Lov'is arte fo gan fhe to abaihe,
Ne durft not uttir al her privite,
Many a stripe and many' a grevouſe laſhe
M mij
548
OF LOVE.
THE
COURT
She gave to them that woldin lovirs be,
And hindered fore the fimple comi'naltie,
That in no wife durft grace and mercie crave,
For were not ſhe they nede but afke and have;
Where yf they now aprochin for to fpeke,
Than Shamefaftneffe returnith them again,
They thinke if we our fecret counſel beke
Our ladies wil have fcorne on us certein,
And peravinture thinkin grete diſdain;
Thus Shamefaftneffe may bringin in Difpeire;
When he is dede the todir will be heire.
Come forth Avauntir, now I ring thy bel;
I fpied him fone to God I make a vowe;
He lokid black as fendis doth in hell.
The firfte (quod he) that evir did I wowe
Within a worde fhe come, I wotte not how,
So that in armis was my lady fre,
And fo hath ben a thoufande mo than fhe
In England, Britain, Spain, and Picardie,
Artois, and Fraunce, and up in Hie Holande,
In Burgoine, Naples, and in Italye,
Navarre, and Grece, and up in Hethin lond;
Was nevir woman yet that wolde withſtond
To ben at commaundèment whan I wolde;
I lackid neithir filver coigne ne gold :
And there I met with this eſtate and that,
And here I brochid her, and here, I trowe:
Lo! there goeth one of myn; and wotte ye what?
Yon freſhe attirid have I leide ful lowe;
And foche one yondir eke right wel I knowe;
I kepte the ftatute whan we lay ifere,
And yet yon fame hath made me right gode chere.
Thus hath Avauntir blowin every where
Al that he knoweth, and more a thouſande fold;
His aunciftrie of kinne was to Lier,
For firfte he makith promife for to hold
His ladis council, and it not unfolde,
Wherfore the fecrete when he doth unfhitte
Than lyith he that all the worlde maye witte.
For falfing fo his promiſe and beheſte
I wandir fore he hath foche fantafie;
He lackith witte I trowe of is a beſte,
That can no bette himſelfe with refon gay;
By mine advice Love fhall be contrarie
To his avail, and him eke diſhonoure,
So that in Courte he fhall no more fojoure.
'Take hede (quod fhe this litil Philobone)
Where Envie rockith in the cornir yonde,
And fittith derke, and ye fhal fe anone
His lene bodie, his fading face and honde;
Him felf he frettith, as I undirſtonde,
Witneffe of Ovide Metamorphofoſe;
The lovir's fo he is, I will not gloſe :
For where a lovir thinkith him promote
Envie wil grutchc, repining at his wele;
It fwellith fore about his hertis rote,
That in no wife he canne not live in hele;
And if the faithful to his lady ftele
Envie will noife and ringe it rounde aboute,
And fey moch worfe than done is out of doute.
And Privie Thought, rejoyſing of him felfe,
Stode not ferre thens in abite mervilous;
Yon is, thought I, fome fpirite or fome elfe,
His fotil image is ſo curious ;
How is (quod I) that he is fhadid thus
With yondir cloth, I n'ot of what coloure?
And nere I went, and gan to lere and pore,
And fainid him a queftion ful harde;
Whate is (quod I) the thing thou loviſt beſte,
Or what is bote unto thy painis harde?
Me thinke thou liviſt here in gret unreft,
Thou wandrift aye from fouth to eft and weft,
And eft to northe: as ferre as I canne ſe
There is no place in Court may holdin the.
Whom foloweſt thou? wher is thy hert ifet?
But my demaunde afoile I the require.
Me thought (quod he) no creäture may let
Me to ben here and where as I defire,
For whare as Abfence hath done out the fire
My mery thought it kindeleth yet againe,
That bodily me thinke with my foveraine
I ftand, and fpeke, and laugh, and kiſſe, and halfe,
So that my thought comfortith me ful oft;
I think, God wote, though al the world be falfe
I wil be true; I thinke alfo howe fofte
My lady is in fpeche, and this on loft
Bringith mine herte with joie and gret gladneffe,
This privey thought alaieth mine hevineffe.
And whate I thinke or where to be no man
In al this erthe can tel ywis but I,
And eke there n'is no fwalow ſwift ne fwan
So wight of wing, ne halfe fo yerne can flie,
For I canne ben, and that right fodenly,
In heven, in hell, in paradiſe, and here,
And with my lady whan I wil defire.
I am of counſel ferre and wide I wote
With lorde and lady, and ther privitie
I wotte it al, and be it hote or colde
They fhall not fpeke without licence of me
I myne in foche as fefonable be,
For firfte the thing is thought within the hert
Er any worde oute from the mouth afterte.
And with that word Thought bad farewel and
Eke furthe went I to fene the Court'is guife, [yedeg
And at the dore came in, fo God me ſpede,
Twenty courteours of age and of affife,
Liche high and brode, and as I me adviſe
The Goldin Love and Ledin Love they hight,
The tone was fad, the t'odir glad and light.
Yes, draw your hert with all your force and
To luftineffe, and ben as ye have ſeid, [might
And thinke that I no drope of favour hight,
Ne ner had unto your defire obeide,
Til fodenly me thought me was affraied
To fene you waxe fo dede of countinaunce,
And Pite bade me done you fome pleſaunce;
Oute of her fhrine fhe roſe from deth to live,
And in mine ere ful privily the fpake,
Doth not your fervaunt hens away to drive,
Rofial, (quod fhe) and than mine hertè brake,
For tendiriche, and where I founde moch lacke
In your perfone, then I my ſelf bethought,
And faide This is the man myne herte hath fought,
Gramercy! Pite, might I not fuffice
To yeve due laude unto thy fhrine of golde?
God wotte I wold, for fith that ye did rife
I
1
THE
549
COURT OF LOVE.
From deth to live for me I am behold
To thankin you a thouſand tymis tolde,
And eke my lady Rofial the fhene,
Whiche hath in comforte fet mine herte I wene.
And here I make myne proteſtacion,
And depely fwere as mine powir to bene
Faithful, devoide of variacion,
And her forbere in angir or in tene,
And ſerviceable to my world'is quene
With al my refon and intelligence,
To done her honour high and revèrence.
I had not ſpoke fo fone the worde but the
My fovèrain did thanke me hertily,
And faid, Abide, ye fhal dwelle ftill with me
Till fefon come of May, for than truly
The king of Love and al his company
Shall holde his fefte ful rially and welle;
And there I bode til that the fefon felle.
On May-day whan the lark began to ryfe
To matins went the luſty nightingal
Within a temple fhapin hauthorn wife,
He might not flepe in all the nyghtirtale,
But Domine labia gan he crie and gale;
Aẩy lippis opin, lord of Love, I crie,
my
And let mouth thy praifing now berrye.
The egle fang Venite bodies al,
And let us joye to Love, that is oure helth,
And to the defke anon they gan to fall,
And who came late he precid in by ſtelth,
Then faied the faucon, our owen hertis welth,
Domine Dominus nofter, I wote
Ye be the god that donne us brenne thus bote.
Cæli enarrant, faid the popingay,
Your might is told in heven and firmament,
And then came in the goldfinche freſhe and gay,
And faied this pfalme with hertely glad intent,
Domini eft terra, this Latin intent
The god of Love hath yerth in govirnaunce,
And than the wren gan fcippin and to daunce;
Jube Domine, O lorde of Love! I pray
Commaunde me wel this leffon for to rede,
This legende is of al that woldin dye
Martirs for Love, God yef the foulis fpede,
And to the Venus finge we oute of drede,
By influence of al thy vertue grete,
Befeching the to kepe us in our hete.
The feconde leffon robin redebrefte fang,
Hail to the god and goddes of our lay!
And to the lectorn amorily he ſprang,
Hail, (quod he) o thou freſhe ſeſon of May!
Our monith glad that fingin on the ſpray,
Hail to the flouris rede, and white, and blewe,
Whiche by ther vertue makith our luft new!
The thirde leffon the turtil dove toke up,
And therat lough the mavis in a fcorne,
He faid, O God! as mote I dine or fuppe
This folifhe dove wil gife us al an horne,
There ben right here a M. bettir borne
To rede this leffon, whiche as wel as he,
And eke as hote, can love in al degre.
The turtil dove faid, Welcom, welcom May,
Gladfom and light to lovirs that ben trewe,
I thanke the lord of Love that doth purvey
For me to rede this leffon al of dewe,
For in gode foth of corage I purfue
To ferve my make tyll deth us muſt departe,
And than Tu autem fang he al aparte.
Te Deum amoris fang the thruftil cocke,
Tuball him felf the firfte muſician
With key of armony coude not onlocke
So fwete a tewne as that the thruftil can,
The lorde of Love we praifin (quod he) than,
And ſo done al the foulis gret and lite,
Honour we May in fals lovirs difpite.
Dominus regnavit, faid the pecocke there,
The lord of Love, that mighty prince iwis,
He is recevid bere and every where.
Nowe Jubilate fang, what menith this?
Said than the lynet, IVelcom lord of bliffe.
Oute fterte the owle with Benedicite!
What menith al this mery fare? (quod he.)
Laudate fang the larke with voice ful fhril,
And eke the kight O admirabile!
This quire wil throw min eris and thril,
pers
But what? welcom this May fefon (quod he)
And honoure to the lord of Love mote be,
That hath this fefte fo folempne and ſo hie;
Amen faid al, and fo faid eke the pie.
And forth the cockowe gan procede anon
With Benedictus! thanking God in haft
That in this May wode vifite them echon,
And gladdin them al while the feſt fhal laft,
And therwithal a langhtir oute he braſte,
I thanke it God that I fhuld ende the fong,
And al the ſervice whiche hath ben fo long.
Thus fang they al the fervice of the fefte,
And that was done right erly to my dome,
And furth goth al the Courte both moſt and left
To fetche the flouris fresh, and braunch, and blome
And namelyhauthorn brought both page and grom
With freſh garlantis, party blew and white,
And than rejoyfin in ther grete delite.
Eke eche at othir threwe the flouris bright
The prymerofe, the violete, and the gold,
So than as I beheld the roial fight
My lady gan me fodenly behold,
And with a trewe love plitid many' a folde
She fmot me through the very herte as blive,
And Venus yet I thanke I am alive.
Mm iij
550
FROLOGUE TO REMEDIE OF LOVE.
THE REMEDIE OF LOVE.
This book, taken for the most part out of The Proverbs of Solomon, is a warning to tak?
heed of the deceitful company of women.
THE PROLOGUE.
}
SEYNG the manyfolde inconvenience
Falling by unbrydlid profperite,
Whiche is not temprid with moral prudence,
Nothing more welthie than in youth'is frelte,
Movid I am bothe of right and equite
To youth'is wele fomwhat for to endite
Whereby he may himfelfin fafecondite.
And firfte I note as a thinge most noyous,
And unto youth a grevous malady,
Amongis us callid love encombrous,
Vexyng alway yonge peple ftraungèly,
Oftin by force it caufith 'hem to dye,
And age is alfo turmentid by love,
I mene bineth the girdle' and not above.
Wherfore this werke, whiche is right labbrous,
For age me nedith nat in honde to take, ··
To youthe me owith to be' obfequious;
Nowe I begin thus to worke for his fake,
Whiche may the fervence of love aflake,
'To the lovir as a mitigative,
To him that is none a prefervative.
That mighty lorde whiche that me govirneth,
"Tis Youthe I mene, mefure if that I pace
In every matir whiche that him concerneth:
First, as is behoveful, I wol afke grace,
And forthwithal now in this fame place
Er I begin I wol yknele and fay
'Thefe fewe wordis, and him of helpè praye:
Thou flouring Youth, whiche haft the avauntage
In ftrength of body, in lufte, and beaute,
Alfo a precelling hate above Age
In many' a finguler commodite,
Howe be it one thing he hath beyonde the
To thy most profite and gretift availe,
Whiche fhuld the conduit, I mene fad counfaile.
And yet, gode lorde, of a prefumpcion
I n'il de prave thy might and deite,
I lyve but undir thy protection,
I am thy fubjecte, I were thy lyverie,
For thou arte greunde of my profperite,
And freſhift flowir of al my garlande,
My fingu'ler aide, as I well undirftande.
But as he that oweth his lorde beſt ſervice
And entire faithe, his honour to fupporte,
Right fo I ſpeke, and in none othir wife;
I knowlege my felf one of the left forte
Of thy fervauntes, to our eldirs comforte,
Drawe fadde counfaile unto the if thou lifte,
The and thy powir who maie then refiſte?
Fie on Age, I lay, undir wordis fewe,
And his erroneous opinion!
What fpekift of him whiche faieth mofte untrue
All youth to be of ill difpoficion ?
Dampnith us all without excepcion,
And for a colerable avauntage
He faieth in hym reftish all counfaill fage.
Well fothly maie fadde counfaile in him reft,
But yet his dedis ben full ferre therefro;
He maie wel fayin with our parishe preſt,
Doith as I faic and not as I do;
For I my felfin know wele one or two
Well ftrickin in age that for neighbourhcdde
Ywollin to ther neighbours wivis bedde.
He will in preſence of the yongè man
Her clippe and kille, ye, and her doune ylaic,
And to blere his eye thus he fayith than,
O fuffre yet olde Morell for to plaie,
Now have I doin that I can or maie :
Thus he fayith her huſband for to queme,
That he nor no man fhouldin not mifdeme.
In wurde nor dede pedith him not be coie,
It'is impoffible that he doc amiffe:
If the yong man fpeke, anon he faieth, Boie,
To rebuke age befemeth the not iwis:
And thus his olde face aye his warrantļis;
All is in hym but fleight and fubtilte,
And ferre from right refon, I tellin the.
And, fhortly, Age is not abovin me;
Age is impotent, and of no refiftence;
Age unweldie ne maie not fight nor fle;
!
!
PROLOGUE TO
581
REMEDIE OF LOVE.
What werin Age withoutin my defence?
Sad counfaile faieft, Givith hym affiftence;
Right refon is freſhift where that I ame,
Wherfore in thy faiyng thou art to blame.
Sith refon to me is rathir accompanied
Then unto Age, whiche is the opinion
Of every wife man not to be denied,
And fith fad counfaile procedith of reſon,
Sad counfaile in me hath his chefe mancion;
This is no naie; but what then is the ende
Of this thy fuafion; what doeſt entende?
Age to compare unto thyne excellence
1 n'ill prefume hym fo to dignifie,
Ye be not egall, how be it Experience
Hym avauntageth, for the mofte certainly
Hym techith what thing to hym is contrary,
And ofte to fore fe 'and warily efchewe
Whiche thou nevir affaidift yet nor knewe.
Experience makith a man mofte certain
Of thing erthly, and of neceffite
Sad counfaile requirith certaintie plain,
So ferre to movin thus whereto nede we?
But to my purpoſe, as thou commaundeſt me;
Shortly mine entent is thus, and none other,
Under thy licence to counfaile my brother.
How fhouldift give any counfaile fo yong,
Lacking experience? unto thine owne fpeche
1 report me, I wote as for thy tong
Will ferve the right wel, but than for to tech
I doubte me left that thy wit woll not rech;
Youth and Experience thou fait be not convert,
How fhouldiit thou then techc well unexpert?
Scripture witniffith that God will oft fhitte
Fro the hie wittid man and fhew it the child,
To hym I mene that of his own : wine
Prefumeth not, but is debonaire and milde;
By counfaile I entend vertue to bilde,
Whiche of myne elders part have I borowed,
And part
of experience, which I' have forowed.
Well, than, if it be as thou letti fare
Shewe forthe thy doctrine, be not ought agafte;
I woll the fupporte; loke thou doe not pare
Maugre Age, although that he frete or guaite;
To afke Age counfail herein were but wait
Boldely begin; go forthe to the proceffe;
Fere not, fithins thou art of foche fureneffe.
Graunt mercie, lorde! fithin it the death like
To licence me, now I woll and dare boldiy
Affaile my purpofe; with fcriptares autentike
My werke woll I ground, undirfet, and forteñe :
Afpire my ginnyng, o thou wode Furie
Alecto, with thy futirs! and in fpeciall
To the, mother of Jeloufie, Juno, I cali.
THE REMEDIE OF LOVE.
Tuis werke who ſo ſhall ſe or yrede
Of incongruite do me not impeche;
Ordinatelie behoveth me firſt to procede
In deduccion thereof, right as the leche
His paciente's ficknes oweth firſt for to feche,
The which knowen medicin he fhould aplic,
And ſhortly as he can fhape remedie.
о
Right ſo by counfail, willing the to' exhort,
O yong man profperous! which doth abounde
In thy floures of lufte, belongeth on the fort,
Me firft to confidir what 'is rote and ground
Of thy mifchefe, whiche is plainlie yfound
Woman, yfarcid with fraud and difceipt,
To thy confufion mofte allective baite.
Flie the mifwoman left fhe the'ifceve,
Thus faith Salomon, which taught was fullie
The falfhed of women in his daies to' conceve;
The lips of a ftrumpet ben fwetir than honie,
Her throte fouplid with oile of flatirie,
How be it the ende and effecte of all
Bitterer is then any wormwode or gall.
Flie the mifwoman if thou love thy life:
Beware of the ftraungir's blande eloquence;
traungir I call her that is not thy wife;
Of her beautie have no concupifcence,
Her countinaunce, pretendyng benevo❜ience;
Beware her fignes and eye fo amiable,
Holde it for ferme thei ben difcevable.
Lo, here an enſample what women be
In ther fignis and continuance ſhortlie!
I woll fhewin the how loviris thre
Ylovid one woman right entirelie,
Eche of them knewe othiri's maladie,
Wherefore it was all ther daily labour
Who coud approchin next in her favour.
At fondrie fefons, as fortune requireth,
Severallie thei came to fe her welfare,
But ones it happinid Love them fo fireth,
To fe ther ladic thei all would not ipare;
Of othir's comyng none of them were ware,
Tik all thei mette whereas thei in o place
Of ther ladie fawe the defirid face.
To fuppir fet, full fmallie thei caude ete;
Full fobir and demure in countinaunce,
There taried none of 'hem for any mete,
But on his ladic to give attendaunce,
And in fecrete wife fome fignifiaunce
Mm i
552
OF LOVE.
THE
REMEDIE
Of love to have, the whiche percevyng the
Fetelie' executid thus her properte.
In due fefon, as the alwaie afpied
Every thyng to' execute convenientlie,
Her one lovir firft frendêlie fhe eyed,
The ſecond the offred the cuppe fo curtiflie,
The thirde fhe gave a tokin fecretlie,
Undirneth the borde fhe trade on his fote,
Through his entrailis tiklid the herte rote.
By your leve, might I here afke a queſtion
Of you my maiſtirs that fewe lov'is trace,
To you likely belongeth the folucion
Whiche of thefe thre yftode now in her grace!
Clerely to anfwere ye would aſke long ſpace,
The mattir is doubtfull and opinable;
To' afcertain you I woll my felf enable.
Of the forefayid thre my felf was one,
No man can anfwere it bettir then I;
Hertely of us bilo vid was there none,
But Watt'is packe we bare all by and by,
Whiche at the laft I my felf gan afpie,
And time as me thought then I left the daunce:
O thoughtfull hertè, gret is thy grevaunce!
Hence fro me! hence! that me for to endite
Halpe aie here afore, o ye Mufis Nine!
Whilom ye were wont be mine aide and light,
My penne to direct, my brain to' illumine;
No lengir, alas! maie I fewe your doctrine,
The frefhe luftie metirs I went to make
Have ben here afore I' uttirlie forfake.
Come hither Erinnys, and ye Furies all
Whiche fer ben undre' us nigh the nethir pole,
Where Pluto reignith, o kyng Infernall!
Sende out thine Arpies, fend Anguiſhe and Dole,
Mifcrie and Wo, leve ye me not lole,
Of right he prefent muft Fain and Turment,
The pale Deth befemeth not to be abfent.
To me now I call all this lothſome fort
Aly paines t' encrcfe, my forowes to augment,
For worthic' I am to' be bare of all comfort,
Thus fith, I have confumid and mifpent
Not onely my daies but fivefolde talent
That my Lorde gave me, I can not recompence,
I maię n'ot to derely' abye my negligence.
By the' path of penaunce yet woll I revert
To the well of grace, mercie there to fetche;
Defpifift not God the meke contrite herte,
Of the cocke crowe, alas! I would not retche,
And yet it is not late in the' feconde wetche:
Mercie fhall I purchace by 'inceffaunt criyng,
The mercies of our Lorde er fhall i fyng.
But well mayift thou waile, wicked woman,
That thou fhuldeft difceve thus an innocent;
In recompence of my finne, fo' as I can,
To' al wol I make and leve this monument,
In fhewing part of thy falfhed is myne entent,
For all were to moche, I cann'ot, well I wote,
The caufe fhewith plainly he that thus wrote.
If al the yerth wer parchment fcribable,
Spedic for the hande, and all manir wode
Wer hewed and proporcioned to pennis able,
All water yoke eithir in damme or flode,
Every man being a parfite fcribe and gode,
The curfidneffe yet and defceipt of won.en
Coud not be fhewid by the mene of
penne.
I fie all odious refemblaunces;
The devil'is bronde call women I might,
Whereby man is encenfid to miſchaunces,
Or a ftinkyng rofe, that faire is in fight,
Or dedly' empoifon, like the fugir white,
Whiche by his fwetneffe caufith man to taft,
And fodainly fleeth and bringeth him to' his laſt.
It is not my manir to uſe foche langage,
But this my doctrine as I maie lawfullie
I' woll wholly grounde with authoritie fage,
Willing wifedome and vertue edefie :
Wine and women into apoftafie
Cauſe wiſemen to fall; what is that to faie?
Of wifedome caufe them to forget the waie:
Wherefore the wifemen doith the advife,
In whoſe wordis can be founde no lefyng,
With the ftraungir to fittin in no wife
Whiche is not thy wife; fall not in clippyng
With her, but beware eke of her kiffyng,
Kepe with her in wine no altercación,
Left thyne herte fall by inclinacion.
Maie a man, thinkiſt, hide and fafely laie
Fire in his bofome without empairement
And brenning of his clothes? or whider he may
Walke on hotte colis his fete not ybrente?
As who faith naie, and whereby is mente
This forefaied proverbe and fimilitude,
But that thou ridde the plainly to denude
From the flattirirs forgettyng her gide,
The gide of her youth, I mene Shamfaftnes,
Whiche fhould caufe her maidinhed to abide,
Her Godd'is behefte eke fhe full recheleffe
Not retching committeth to forgetfulnes,
| Neithir God ne ſhame in her havyng place;
Nedis muft foche a woman lackė grace.
And all that neighin her in waie of fin
To tourne of grace ſhall lacke the influence,
The pathis of life no more to come in,
Wherefore firſt frendè the with Sapience,
Remembring God, and aftir with Prudence,
To thyne owne wele, that ſo thei may the kepe,
Unto thyne hertè left her wordis crepe.
In his boke where I take my moftè ground
And in his Proverbis, fage Salomon
Tellith a tale which is plainly found
In the fiveth chapter, whedir in dede don
Or mekely feined to our inftruccion
Let clerkes determine, but this am I fure,
Moche like thyng I my ſelf have had in ure.
At my windowe, faicth he, I lokid out,
Faire yongè peple where I fawe many,
Emong 'hem all, as I lokid about,
To a yong man fortuned I lent myne eye,
Eftraungid from his minde it was likely;
By the' ftrete at a cornir, nigh his own hous,
He went about with eye right curious.
When that the daie his light began withdrawe,
And the night approchid in the twinlight,
How a woman came aad met hym 1 fawe,
Talking with him undir fhade of the night;
Now bleffid be God (quod fhe) of his might,
Whiche hath fulfilliḍ myne hert'is defire,
Aflaked my painis, which were hote as fire.
And yet mync authour, as it is gode ſkill,
To folowe I must tell her araiment ;
HE REMEDIE
553
OF LOVE.
She was full nicè foulis like to fpill,
As nice in countinaunce yet as in garmente,
For janglyng fhe was of reft impaciente,
Wandiryng ftill in no place fhe yftode,
But reſtleffe now, and now out forthe fhe yode :
Now in the hous fhe was, now in the ftrete,
Now at a cornir fhe ftandeth in awaite,
Inceffauntly bufie her praie to gete,
To bring to the lure whom he doith laite.
Now where I left unto my mattir ftraite
I woll tournin again, how the hym met,
Swetily kiffid, and frendly him grette.
With wordes of curtifie many' and diverfe,
Right as in part I have before ytolde,
Now as I can I purpoſe to reherſe
How the flattiring faied with viſage bolde,
I have made vowes and offringes manifolde
For thy fake, o myne herte! o my love dere?
This daie I thanke God all performid were;
Therefore I came out and made thus afterte,
Verie defirous your welfare to ſe;
Now I have feen you plefid is myne herte;
In faith fhall none yhave my love but ye;
As true as I am to you be to me ;
I praie you hertily, dere herte! come home,
No man fhould be to me fo much welcome.
And in gode faithe, the fothè for to faie,
Your comyng unto me ran in my thought:
Harke in your ere; my bedde freſhe and gaie
I have behanged with tapettis new bought,
From Egypte and from far countries ybrought,
Steinid with many a luftie freſhe hewe,
Excedyng golde or jafpir in value :
My chambir is ftrowed with mirre and infenfe,
With fote fav'oring aloes and finnamome,
Brethyng an aromatike redolence,
Surmountyng olibane in any man's dome;
Ye fhall bitwene my breftes reft if ye come;
Let us now have our defirid halfyng,
For we maie fafe be till in the mornyng.
Myne huſband is not at home, he is went
Forthe in his journey a farre waie from hence,
A bagge with money he hath with hym hent,
As hym thought nedefull was for his expence ;
Unto my wordis give faith and credence;
Now is the monè yong and of light dulle,
Ere he come home it woll be at the fulle.
And thus craftily hath fhe hym befette
With her lime rodis, and pantir, and fnare,
The felie foule ycaught hath in her nette,
Of her fugrid mouthe, alas! nothyng ware;
And thus is he left gracèleffe and bare
Of helpe, and comfort, and ghoftly fuccour,
And, furthirmore, as fayith myne aucthour,
As a beft ledde to his deth doith pante
This yong man folowith her in that ſtounde,
And as a wanton lambe full ignorante
How he is pulled and drawin to be bounde
Unto the tyme he hath his derh'is wounde,
And like a birde that haftith to the grin,
Not knowyng the perill of his life therein.
Now, gentle fonne, faith Salomon, take hede,
My wordis in thy breft kepe and make fafte,
Let her not thy mynde in her waies mifledę,
Be not decevid, lefith not thy tafte,
Many hath the woundid, many doune cafte,
Many ftrong men by her hath lofte ther breth;
Her waies are waies of hell ledyng to deth.
And in this lite narracion precedente
The womanne's manifolde gilte I attende,
The yonge man, alas, how ſhe hath ſhent!
Difcevid her huſbande her own next frend;
In theſe bothe her God the doith offende;
To breke her ſpoufail to her is of no weight.
Furdirmore to fhew woman's craft and fleight,
A woman at her dore fate on a ftall
To fe folke paffe by ftretes of the cite,
With eye and countinaunce eke fhe gan call,
If there be any pretie' one come to me,
Come hithir ye piggis nye, ye little babe!
At laft the faied to a young man hertleffe,
Of her deceipt unware and defenceleffe,
Moche fwetir, fhe faith, and more acceptable,
Is drinke when it is ftollin privily
Then when it' is taken in form avowable;
Bread hiddin and gottin jeoperdouflie
Ymuft nedis be fwete and femblablic;
Venifon ftolin is aie the fwetir,
The ferthir the narowir fet the bettir.
And whom this woman, faith Salomon, feftes
The yong man wotith not whom the doth fede;
Of the darke depeneffe of hell ben her geſtes ;
Beware, o yong man! therefore I the rede,
And how be it chiefly for thy gode fpede
This werke to compile I have take in charge
I muft of pitie my charitie' enlarge;
With the felie man whiche is thus begiled,
Her huſband I mene, I wol wepe and waile
His painfull infortune, whereby reviled
Caufeleffe he is, nevir to convaile;
Every man yong and olde woll him affaile
With wordes of occafion with the loth name,
And, alas, gode foule! he nothyng to blame :
But the whiche that coud fo ill doe and wolde,
Hers be the blame for her foule demerite,
And leve that opprobrious name Cuckold
To apropir to hym as in difpite:
Ranfake yet we wouldin if that we might
Of this worde the true ortographie,
The verie difcent and etymologie.
The well and grounde of the firfte invencion
To knowe the' ortographie we muft derive,
Whiche is Coke and Cold in compoficion,
By refon as nigh as I contrive,
Then how it is writtin we knowe belive;
But yet, lo! by what refon and what grounde
Ywas it of theſe two wordis compounde?
As of one caufe to give very judgement,
The' etymology let us firfte beholde;
Eche lettir an whole worde doeth reprefent,
As C put for Colde, and O put for Olde,
K is for Knave; thus divers men don holde :
The firfte parte of this name we have yfounde,
Let us ethimologife the fecounde.
As the firfte findir mente I am right fure
C for Calot, for Of we havin O,
And L for Leude, and D for Demenure,
The craft of the' enventour ye maie fe, lo!
How one name fignificth perfonis two,
$54
OF LOVE.
THE REMEDIE
A Colde Olde Knave, Cokcold himſelf wenyng,
And eke a Calot of Leude Demenyng.
'The feconde caufe of the' impoficion
Of this forefayid name was jeloufie :
To be jeloufe is gretift occafion
To be cokcold that men can wel afpie,
And though the paffion be very firie,
And of continuell fervence and hete,
The pacient aye fuffrith colde on his fete.
And who that 'is jelous and aye in a drede
Is full of melancolie and gallie ire;
His wiv'is nofe if fhe onis miffetrede
He woll cut off, ye, and he woll confpire
His deth who evir that woll her defire,
Whiche fhe percevyng braftith freight his gall;
And anone his grete wodeneffe doith fall.
As fone as fhe hath knit for him that knot
Now is he tame that was fo ramagious;
Mekely fittith he doune and takith his lot;
Layid ben now his lokes fo furious,
And he but late as a coke batailous,
Hote in his quarell, to avenge hym bolde,
Now is he callid bothe Coke and Colde.
This faving, to' all curtifie diffonant,
Which yfemith that it of malice grewe,
In this rude tretife I ne woll not plant
As parcill thereof, but onely to fhewe
The opinion of the talca:ife fhrewe,
Whiche in ill faiyng is ever merie
No man as li thereof fo werie.
But I as parcill of this my lite boke
Woli graffin in ſome fadde counfall wherby
The weddid man, if that he daigne to loke
In it, the bettir fhall mowin hym gic,
And provide for his faied infortunie,
Whiche as I have fayid with him complaine
I woll, as partinir of his grete paine.
As mofte expedient unto his wele
I woulde that all jeloufie were abjccte,
If he be jelous that he it conccle,
And in his labour be full circumfpecte,
To knowe her waies if thei femin fufpecte,
And not for to breke, for one worde brokin
She woll not miffe but the woll be brokin.
Forbid her not that thou n'oldiſt have don,
For loke what thyng fo e'cre ſhe is forbod
To that of all thyngis fhe is moft prone,
Namily if it be ill and no gode;
Till it be exccutid fhe' is nigh wode:
Soche is a woman, and foche is her fete;
Her craft by craft than labour to defete.
If thou hereaftir, now a fingle man,
Shouldiſt be jelous if thou haddeſt a wife,
Wedde not but if thou can truf a woman,
For els fhouldift thou lede a carefull life;
That thou mofte lothift fhould ybe full rife;
Yet I ne will gainfaic matrimonic,
But Mellus eft nubere quàm uri.
That is to faie, Bettir is in wedlocke
A wife to take, as the churche doith kenne,
Then for to ben undir the fleſh'is yoke,
In flefhlie luftis alwaie for to brenne;
But, as I fayid, for all jeious menne,
So thei livin chafte, I holde it laffe ill
That thei ne wedde not than them felfin fpill.
The fingle man whiche that is yet to wedds,
And not the weddid man, thus I arede,
To warne hym now he is to farre yſpedde,
It is all to late hym for to forbede,
But let hym take as for his ownè nede
Soche counfaile as is hym before ytolde,
Thefe wordis folowyng eke to beholde.
Thy watir to kepe the wifeman doth teche,
That thou in no wife let it have iffue,
At a narowe rifte waie it woll yfeche;
And femblablic the woman that 'is untrue
To give her fre walke in all wiſe eſchte;
If the at large, not at thine handè, walke
She woll the fhamin, thou fhalt it not balke.
Weddid or fingle thus faith the wifeman,
Her which that both daie and night evirmore
Lithe in thy bofome, wife or yet lemman,
Love not to hote, left thou repent it fore,
Left the the bryngin into fome ill lore:
Thy wife not to love yet I n'ill fupport,
But that thou doe not thus I the exhort.
Lo if thou love her love thine honeftic;
Be fhe not idill for what woll betide;
If fhe fit idle' of very neceflitie
Her minde woll ferchin ferre and eke wide,
Namelie if he be not accompanide:
How accompanied? not with yongè men,
But with maidinis I mene or women.
Maidin fervauntes be right convenient
In houfe to helpin to doe her fervice,
In whom the maie uſe her commanndèment
In the fefon all at her owne device;
To techin 'hem gode yeve her thine advice
To make them hufwifis: thus buſineſſe
Maie yet refrainin her from idleneffe
Eut bid not her that thou wolt have her do,
Of thine entent that might be a lettyng,
But craftily encourage her therto
By othir menis, as by commendyng,
And not to moche, but dailyng mengyng
Bothe praife and blame, and in thy refon
Firſt raife wifily the place and fefon.
Of faithfull will and hertè full tɩnder
One thing I call into remembèraunce
Again, which though my wit be to flender
Aftir my powir and my fuffifaunce
I purpoſe to makin a purveiaunce,
Sith women of nature ben chaungeable,
Frele, and not ware, alfo difcevable.
Be it that thy wife be excellently gode,
That none be bet of difpoficion,
In proceffe of time fhe might turn her mode
By fome miffe-liver's inftigacion;
Divers men to thilke occupacion
Aplyin daily ther mynde and eke herte,
From ther godeneffe frele women to perverte,
If thou afpie any fufpect perfon,
Drawe to thy wife, beware in alle wife;
To hym nor her of thy fufpeccion
Breke not one worde though that thine herte agrifes
Kindle no fire and no ſmoke woll ariſe :
Although he be of a corrupt entent
She peraventure is not of affent.
5
A SALYNG OF DAN JOHN.
354
A SAIYNG OF DAN JOHN.
THER bethe four thingis that maketh man a fole; Women alſo bring men into dotage;
Honour firft puttith him into outrage,
And aldir next folitarie and fole;
'The ſecond is unweldy crokid age;
And mighty wine in many divers wife
Diftemprin folke which ben yholdin wife.
YET OF THE SAME.
THER ben four thingis caufing grete folye;
Honour firft; and fecond unwildy age;
Women and wine I dare cke fpecify
Ymake wife men fallin into dotage;
Wherfore by counfell of philofophers fage
In gret honour lernith this rule of me,
With thine eftate havith humilite.
MOTTO TO JACK UPLAND.
Or freris I have told before
Now in a making of a crede,
And yet I could tell worfe and more,
But men would werrien it to rede.
严
​4
356
PROLOGUE TO HOUSE OF FAME
THE HOUSE OF FAM E.
IN THREE BOK E S,
In this book is fhewed how the deeds of all men and women, be they good or bad, are
carry'd by report to pofterity.
THE PROLOGUE
God tourne us everie dreme to gode,
For it is wondir thyng by the' rode,
To my wite, what caufith fwevines
On the morowe or on evines,
And why the' effecte foloweth of fome,
And of fome it fhall nevir come,
Why that is in avifion,
And this a revelacion,
Why this dreme, why that a fweven,
And not to every man liche even,
Why this a fantome' why that oricles
I n'ot; but whofo of theſe miracles
The caufies knowith bet than I
Define he, for I certainly
Ne can 'hem not, ne nevir thinke
To bufie my witte for to fwinke
To knowe of ther fignificacions,
The gendris ne the diftinccions
Of the tymes of 'hem, ne the caufis,
Or why that this is more then that is,
Or if folkis complexions
Make 'hem dreme of reflexions;
Or ellis thus, as other faine,
For the' grete febleneffe of ther braine,
By abftinence or by fickneffe,
By prifon, ftrief, or grete diftreffe;
Or ellis by difordinaunce,
Or natural accuftomaunce,
That fome men be to curious
In ftudie or melancolious;
Or thus, fo inly full of drede
That no man maie 'hem bote rede;
Or ellis that devocion
Of fome and contemplacion
Caufin to them foche dremis ofte;
Or that the cruil life unfofte
Of 'hem that unkind lovis leden,
That oftin hopin moche or dreden,
That purely ther impreffions
Caufin 'hem to have vifions:
Or if that ſpirites han the might
To makin folke to dreme on night,
Or if the foul of propir kinde
Be fo perfite as men yfinde,
That it wele wote what is to come,
And that he warnith all and fome
Of everiche of ther avintures
By avifions or by figures,
But that our fleſh ne hath no might
To underſtandin it aright,
For it is warnid to derkely,
But why the cauſe is not wote la
PROLOGUE TO THE HOUSE OF FAME.
537
Well wotin of this thyngè clerkes
That treten of that and othir werkes,
For I of none opinion
N'ill as now makin mencion,
But only that the holy rode
Tourning us every dreme to gode,
For nevir fithin I was borne,
Ne no man ellis me beforne,
Ymette I trowe right stedfaftly
So wondirfull a dreme as I
The tenthe daie now of December,
The whiche, as I can remember,
I woll you tellin every dele:
But at beginnyng truftith wele
I woll make invocacion
With devoute fpeciall devocion
Unto the god of Slepe anone,
That dwellith in a cave of ſtone,
Upon a ftreme that cometh fro Lete,
That is a flode of hell unfwete,
Befide a fulke men clepe Cimerie
There epith aye this god unmerie,
With his flepie thouſande fonis;
That alwaie to flepe ther won is;
And to this god that I of rede
Praie I that he wollin me ſpede
My fwevin for to tell aright,
If every dreme ftande in his might,
And he that movir is of all
That is and was, and evir fhall,
So give 'hem joyè that it here
Of all that thei dremin to yete,
And for to ftandin all in grace
Of ther lovis, or in what place
That 'hem were levift for to ftonde,
And ſhalde 'hem from poverte' and ſhonde,
And from every' unhappe and difefe,
And fende 'hem that which maie 'hem pleſe,
That takith well and fcornith nought,
Ne it mifdemin in ther thought
Through malicious entencion;
And whoſo through prefumpcion,
Or hate, or fcorne, or though envie,
Difpite, or jape, or felonie,
Mildeme it, praie I Jeſus gode,
Dreme he barefote or dreme he fhode,
That every harme that any man
Hath had thin the worlde began
Befall hym thereof or he ſterve,
And graunt that he maie it deſerve!
Lo! with right foche conclufion
As had of his avifion
Crefus, that was the Kyng of Lyde,
That high upon a gibet dyde,
This prayir fhall he have of me,
I am no bette in charite,
THE FIRST BOKE.
Now herkin, as I have you faied,
What that I mette or I abraied.
Of December the tenith daie
When it was night to flepe I laie.
Right as I was wonte for to doen,
And fill aflepe wondir fone,
As he that was werie forgo
On pilgrimagè milis two
To the corps of Sain Leonarde,
To makin lithe that erft was harde.
But as me flept me mette I was
Within a temple' imade of glas,
In whiche there werin mo images
Of golde ftandyng in fondrie ftages,
Sette in mo riche tabirnacles,
And with perrè mo pinnacles,
And mo curious portraituris
And queint manir of figuris
Of golde worke then I fawe evir :
But certainly I n'ift nevir
Where that it was, but well wift I
It was of Venus redily
This temple, for in purtreiture
I fawe anone right her figure
Nakid yfletyng in a fe,
And alfo on her hedde parde
Her rofy garland white and redde,
And her combe for to kembe her hedde,
Her dovis, and Dan Cupido
Her blindè fonne, and Vulcano,
That in his face ywas full broune,
But as I romid up and dounc
1338
Boke 1.
THE
HOUSE OF FAME.
I founde that on the wall there was
Thus writtin on a table' of bras;
can,
I roll now f、ng, if that 1
The armies and alfo the man
That firft came through his define
Fugitife fro Troye the countre
Into Italie, with full moche pine,
Unto the fondis of Lavine:
And tho began the ſtorie' anone
As I fhall tellin you echone.
Firſt fawe I the diftruccion
Of Troie thorough the Greke Sinon
With his falfe untrue forfwerynges,
And with his chere and his lefynges,
That made a horfe brought into Troye
By whiche Trojans lofte all ther joye.
And aftir this was graved, alas!
How Ilion's caftill affailed was
And won, and Kyng Priamus flain,
And Polites his fonne certain,
Difpitously of Dan Pyrrhus.
And next that fawe I howe Venus,
When that ſhe fawe the caftill brende,
Doune from hevin fhe gan difcende,
And bade her fonne Encas fic,
And how he fled, and how that he
Efcapid was from all the pres,
And toke his fathre', olde Anchifes,
And bare hym on his backe awaie,
Crying Alas and Welawaie!
The whiche Anchifes in his hande
Bare tho the goddis of the lande,
I mene thilke that unbrennid were.
Then fawe I next that all in fere
How Creula, Dan Æneas wife,
Whom that he lovid all his life,
And her yong fonne clepid Julo,
And eke Afcanius alfo,
Fleddin eke with full drerie chere,
That it was pite for to here,
And in a foreſt as thei went
How at a tournyng of a went
Creüfa was ilofte, alas!
That rede not I how that it was,
How he her fought, and how her ghoſte
Bad hym to flie the Grekis hofte,
And faied he muft into Itaile,
As was his deftinie fauns faile,
That it was pitie for to here,
When that her fpirite gan appere,
The wordis that the to hym faied,
And for to kepe her fonne hym praied.
There fawe I gravin eke how he,
His fathir eke and his meinè,
With his fhippis began to faile
Toward the countrey of Italie'
As ftreight as ere thei mightin go.
There fawe I eke the cruill Juno,
That art Dan Jupiter his wife.
That haft ihatid all thy life
Mercileſs all the Trojan blode,
Rennin and crie as thou were wodę
On Æolus, the god of Windes,
To blewin out of aliè kindes
So loude, that he fhould ydrenche
Lord and ladie, and grome and wenche,'
Of all the Tojanis nacion
Without any' of ther, falvacion,
There fawe I foche tempeft ariſe
That every herte might agrife
To fe it paintid on the wall.
There fawe I eke gravin withall
Venus, how ye, my ladie dere!
Ywepyng with full wofull chere,
Yprayid Jupiter on hie
To fave and kepin that navie
Of that dere Trojan Æneas,.
Sithins that he yonr fonne ywas.
There fawe I Jovis Venus kiffe,
And grauntid was of the' tempeſt liffe.
There fawe I how the tempeft ſtente,
And how with allè pine he went
And privilic toke a rivage
Into the countrie of Carthage,
And on the morowe how that he
And a knight that hight Achate
Ymettin with Venus that daie
Goyng in a full queinte araie,
As the had be an huntireffe,
With winde blowing upon her treffe,
And how Æneas gan to plaine,
When that he knewe her, of his paine,
And how his hippis dreint ywere
Or els ilofte, he n'iſte not where,
How fhe began hym comforte tho,
And bade hym unto Carthage go.
And there he fhould his folke yfinde
That in the fe were left behinde :
And, fhortly of this thyng to pace,
She made Æncas fo in grace
Of Dido, Quene of that countre,
That, fhortly for to tellin, fhe
Became his love, and let hym do
All that weddyng ylongith to:
What ſhould I fpekin it more quainte,
Or pain me my wordis to painte?
To fpeke of love it woll not be,
I can not of that faculte,
And eke to tellen of the manere
How that thei firft acquaintid were
It were a long proceffe to tell,
And ovir long for you to dwell
There fawe I grave howe Æneas
Tolde to Dido every caas
That hym was tidde upon the fe.
And eft gravin was how that ſhe'
Made of hym, ſhortly at a worde,
Her life, her love, her luft, her lordc,
And did to hym all revèrence,
And laied on hym all the difpence
That any woman might ydo,
Wenyng that it had all be fo
As he her fwore, and hereby demed
That he was gode, for he foche femed :
Alas! what barme doth apparence
When it is falfe inexistence !
For he to her a traitour was,
Wherefore the flowe her felf, alas 3
Bike I.
$39
THE HOUSE OF FAM E.
Lo, how a woman doeth amis
To love him that unknowin is!
Fo. by Chrift lo thus it farith,
It is not all golde that glarith ;
For al fo broke I well myne hedde
There maie be undir godelihedde
Covirid many a foreude vice;
Therefore let no wight be fo nice
To take a love only for chere,
Or fpeche. or for frendly manere,
For this ſhall every woman finde
That ſome man of his pure kinde
Woll fhewin outward the fairift
Till he have caught that what hym liſt,
And then anon woll caufis finde,
And fwere how that ſhe is unkinde,
Or falſe, or privic', or double was :
All this faie I by Æneas
And Dido, and her nicè left,
That lovid all to fone a geft;
Wherefore I woll faie o proverbe,
That He that fullie knoweth the herbe
Maie fafely laie it to bis eye;
Withoutin drede this is no lie.
But let us ſpeke of Æneas
How he betrayid her, alas!
And left her full unkindèlie,
So when the fawe all uttire
That he would her of trouthè faile,
And wendin from her into' Itaile,
She gan to wring her handis two.
Alas! (quod fhe) that me is wo!
Alas is every man thus true,
That every yere woll have a newc,
If it fo longè tyme endure,
Or ellis thre peravinture?
And thus of one he woll have fame
In magnifying his owne name,
An othir for frendfhip faith he,
And yet there fhall the thirde ybe,
That is ytakin for delite,
Lo! 'or els for finguler profite.
In foche wordis began complaine
This wofull Dido of her paine,
As me mette dremyng redily,
None other auctour aledge woll f,
Alas, (quod fhe) my fwete herte!
Have pitie on my forowes fmerte,
And fe me not; go not awaie.
O wofull Dido! welawaie!
(Quod fhe) unto her felvin tho.
O Æneas! what woll ye do?
O that your love, neithir your bonde,
Which that yefwore with your right honde,
Ne yet my my cruill deth, (quod fhe).
Maie holdin you fill here with me!'
O! have ye' of my deth no pite?
Iwis, myne own dere herte! that ye
Knowin full well that nevir yet,
As farre as evir I had wit
Agilte you in thought ne in dede.
O have ye men foche godelihede
In fpeche, and ner a dele of trouthe?
Alas, alas! that er had routhe
1
Any woman on a falfe man!
Now I fe well and tellin can
We wretchid women can no arte,
For certaine for the mor. parte
Thus we ben fervid everichone,
How fore fo that ye men can grone;
Anon as we have you received
Full certainlie we ben deceved,
For though your love laſt a cefon,
Waite upon the conclufion,
And loke eke how ye determine,
And for the more parte define;
O welawaie that I was born!
For thorough you my name is lorne,
And mine actis are redde and fong
O'er all this lande in every tong.
O wickid Fame ! for there n'is
Nothing fo fwifte, lo! as fhe is;
O fothe is, Every thing is wift
Though it be coverde with the miſt
Eke though that I might durin ever
That I have done recovre' I never,
That it ne fhall be faied, alas!
I fhamid was through Æneas,
And that I fhall thus judgid be,
Lo! right as fhe hath doen now the
Woll doen eftfonis hardily,
Thus faie the peple privily;
But that is doen n'is not done:
But all her complaint ne her mone
Certain availed her not a ftre.
And when the wift fothely that he
Was forthe into his fhip agone
She into chambir went anone,
And callid on her fuftir Anne,
And gan her to complainin thanne,
And faied that the the caufe ywas
That the firft lovid him, alas !
And first counfailid her thereto;
But what whan this was faied and do
She rofte her felvin to the herte,
And deide thorough the woundis fmerte ș
But all the manir how the deide,
And all the wordis how the feide,
Who fo to knowe it hath purpoſe,
Rede Virgile in Æneidos,
Or the Epiftits of Ovide,
What that she wrote or that the dide;
And n'ere it to longe to endite
By God I would it here ywrite.
But welawaie! the harme and routh
That hath betide for foche untrouth,
As men maie oft in bokis rede,
And al daie feen it yet in dede,
That for to thinkin it tene is,
Lo! Demophon, Duke of Athenis,
How he forfwore him falfily,
And trayid Phyllis wickidly,
That Kingis doughtir was of Trace,
And falfely gan his termè pace;
And whan fhe wift that he was falfe
She hong herfelf right by the halfe,
For he had doen her fuch untrouthe =
Lo! was not this a wo and routh?
360
Boke
THE HOUSE OF FAME.
Eke loke howe falfe and rechèles
Was to Brifeida Achilles,
And Paris eke to Ocnone,
And Jafon to Hypfiple,
And efte Jafon to Medea,
And Hercules to Deianira,
For he left her for Iole,
That made hym take his deth parde.
How falſe was eke Duke Thefus,
That as the ftorie tellith us
How he betrayid Adriane?
The devill be his foul'is bane!
For, had he laughid or iloured,
He must have ben anone devoured
If Ariadne ne had be;
And for ſhe had of hym pite
She made hym fro the deth efcape,
And he made her a full falfe jape ;
For aftir this within a while
He left her flepyng in an ile,
Defert alone right in the ſe,
And ftale awaie and let her be,
And toke her fuftir Phædra tho
With hym, and gan to ſhippe ygo;
And yet he had yfworne to here,
On all that evir he could fwere,
That ſo fhe favid hym his life
He would takin her to his wife,
For ſhe defirid nothinge elles
In certain, as the boke us telles.
But for to' excufe this Æneas
Fulliche of all his grete trefpas
The boke fayith withoutin faile
The goddes bad hym go to Itaile,
And levin Affriques regioun
And faire Dido and her faire toun,
Tho fawe I grave how to Itaile
Dan Æneas gan for to faile,
And how the tempeft all began,
And howe he loft his fterifman,
Which that the fterne or he toke kepe
Smote ovir the borde as he flepe.
And alfo faugh I how Sibile
And Æneas befide an ile
To helle went yfere for to fe
His father Anchiſes the fre,
And how he there founde Palinurus,
And alfo Dido and Deiphobus,
And everiche tourment cke in hell
Sawe he, whiche long is for to tell,
Whiche painis who fo lifte to knowc
He must redin many a rowe
In Virgile or in Claudian,
Or Dantes, that it tellin can.
'Tho fawe I alle the arivaile
That Æneas made in Itaile,
And with Kyng Latine his tret,
And all the battailis that he
Was at himfelfin and his knightes
Or he had all iwonne his rightes,
And how he Turnus refte his life,
And wan Lavinia to his wife,
And all the marvelous fignals
Of the goddis Celeſtials,
How maugre Juno Æneas,
For all her fleighte and her compas,
Atchivid all his avinture,
For Jupiter toke on hym cure
At the praier of his modir Venus,
Whiche I praie alwaie favin us,
And us aie of our forowes light.
When I had fein all this fight
Within this noble temple thus,
Hey! Lord, thought I, that madift us,
Yet fawe I never foche nobleffe
Of imagis, nor foche richcffe,
As I fe gravin in this churche;
But nought wote I who did 'hem worche,
Ne where I am, ne' in what countre,
But now will! out gone and ſe,
Right at the wickit, if I can
Seen oughtwhere fteryng any man
That maie me tellen where I am.
When I out of the dorè cam
I fafte aboutin me behelde,
Then fawe I but a large felde
As farre as evir I might fe,
Withoutin toune, or houfe, or tre,
Or buſhe or graffe, or arid lande,
For all the felde was but of fande
As final as men maye fe at eye
In the defertis of Lybyc;
Ne ferthit no manir creture
That is yformid by Nature
Ne fawe I, me to rede or wiffe ;
O Crift thought I, that art in bliffe,
From fanton and illufion
Me fave, and with devocyon
Myne eyin to the heven I cafte ;
Tho was I ware, lo! at the lafte,
That faftè by the fonne on hie,
As kennin myght I with mine cye,
Me thought I fawe an egle fore,
But that it femid mochil more
Than I had anye egle' yfeine,
This is a fothe as deth certaine,
It was of golde, and fhone ſo bright,
That nevir fawe men foche a fight,
But yf the hevin had ywonne
Al newe of God anothir fonne,
So fhone the eg'lis fethirs bright,
And fomwhat downwarde gan it lyght.
Book 11.
THE HOUSE OF FAME.
THE SECOND BOKE.
Nowe herkin everye manir man
That Englishe undirftandè can,
And lyftith of my dreme to here,
For now at erft ſhallin ye lere
So fely' and dredefull avyfion,
That I faye neithir Scipion
Ne Kinge Nabugodnofore,
Pharao, Turnus, ne Alcanore,
Ne mettin foche a dreme as this,
Nowe, o thou faire blisful Cipris!
So be my favour at this time
That ye me to endite and rime
Helpith that in Parnaffus dwel,
Befyde Helicon the clere wel.
O Thought! that wrote al that I met,
And in the treforie it fet
Of my braine, now fhal men yfe
If any vertue in the be;
To tellin al my dreme aright
Nowe kithe thy engin and thy might.
This cgle', of whiche I have you tolde,
That with fethirs fhone al of golde,
Whiche that ſo hie began to fore,
I gan beholdin more and more
To fene her beaute and the wonder,
But nevir was that dente of thonder,
Ne that thinge that men callin foudre,
That fmite fometime a toure to poudre,
And in his ſwifte comminge brende,
That fo fwithe gan downwarde difcende
As this foule whan that it behelde
That I arowne was in the felde,
And with his grim pawis fo ftronge
Within his fharpd nailis longe
Me fleyng at a fwappe he hent,
And with his fours again up wente,
Me carying in his clawis ftarke
As lightly' as I had ben a larke,
Howe hye I can not tellin yowe,
For I came up I n'ift ner howe,
For fo aftonied and afweved
Was every virtue in me heved,
What with his fours and with my dred,
That al my felinge gan to ded;
VOL. I.
For why? it was a gret affraye.
Thus I longe in his clawis laye,
Til at the laft he to me fpake
In mann'is voice, and faid, Awake,
And be not agaft fo for ſhame,
And callid me tho by my name;
And for I fhulde bettir abraide
Me to awakin thus he faide,
Right in the fame voice and ftevin
That ufith one I can nevin,
And with that voice, the fothe to faine,
My minde ycame to me againe,
For it was godely faide to me,
So n'as it nevir wonte to be;
And herewithal I gan to ftere
As he me in his fete ybere,
Til that he felte that I had hete,
And felte eke tho mine herte ybete;
And tho gan he me to difporte,
And with gentil vordes me comforte,
And fayid twife, by Saint Mary
Thou arte a noyous thinge to cary,
And nothinge nedith it parde,
For all fo wifly God helpe me
As thou no harme fhalt have of this,
And this cafe that betidde the is
Is for thy lore and for thy prowe :
Lette fe; darift thou loke yet nowe?
Be ful enfurid boldily
I am thy frende: and therewith I
Gan for to wondir in my minde.
O God! (quod I) that madift al kinde,
Shal I none otherwife ydie?
Whedir Jove wil me ftellyfie,
Or what thing may this fignifie?
I'am neithir Enocke ne H ye,
Ne Romulus ne Ganimede,
That werin bore up, as men redc,
To hevin with Dan Jupiter,
And made the goddis botiler;
Lo! this was tho my fantafie.
But he that bare me gan afpie
That I fo thought, and fayid this;
Thou demiſt of thy felfe amis,
Na
}
562
J
THE HOUSE OF FAM E.
Boot $1.
For Jove ne is not thereaboute,
I dare the put ful out of doute,
To makin of the yet a fterre;
But er I ber in the moche ferre
I wil the tellin what I am,
And where thou fhalte, and why I came
To doin this, fo that thou take
Gode herte, and not fore fere yquake.
Gladly, (quod I.) Now wel, (quod he)
First I, that in my fete have the,
Of whom thou haft grete fere and wonder,
And dwellinge with the god of Thonder,
Whiche men ycallin Jupiter,
That doth me flyin ful ofte fer
To do all his commaund ment,
And for this caufe he hath me fent
To the; herkin nowe by thy trouthc:
Certaine he hath of the gretc routhe,
For that thou haft fo truly
So long fervid ententifly
His blindé nephewe Cupido
And the faire quene Venus alfo
Withoutin guerden evir yet,
And nathèles haft fet thy wit,
Althoughe in thy hed ful lite is,
To make bokes, fongis, and ditis,
In rime or ellis in cadence,
As thou beft capit, in reverence
Of Love and of his fervauntes cke,
That have his fervice fought and ſeke,
And painiſt the to praiſe his arte,
Althoughe thou hadḍift nevir parte;
Wherfore, fo wifly God me bleffe,
Jovis yhalte it grete humbleffe
And vertue eke that thou wilt make
Anight ful oft thinc hed to ake
In thy ftudye, fo thou ywriteft,
And evirmore of love enditeft,
In honour of him and praifinges,
And in his folkis fourthiringes,
And in ther matir al devifeft,
And not him ne his folke difpifeft,
Althoughe thou maifte go in the daunce
Of them that him lyft not avaunce;
Wherfore, as I nowe faide, ywis
Jupiter confidrith wel this,
And als, beaufire, of othir thinges,
That is, that thou hafte no tidinges
Of Lov'is folke if they be glade,
Ne of nothinge els that God made,
And not onely fro ferre countre
That no tidinges comin to the,
Not of thy very neighbouris,
That dwellen anoft at thy doris,
Thou herift neithir hat ne this,
Por whan thy labour al done is,
And hafte made al thy reckiuinges,
In fiede of reſte and of newe thinges
Thou goeft home to thine houfe anone,
And al fo dombe as any ftone
Thou fittift at anothir boke`
Tyll fully dafid is thy loke,
And lyvift thus as an hermite,
Although thine abftinence is lj te;
1
And therefore Jovis throughe his grace
Wil that I bere the to a place
Whiche that yhight The Houfc of Fame,
And for to doe the fport and game,
In fome recompenifacion
Of thy labour and devocion
That thou hafte hadde, lo! caufelefs,
To god Cupido the recheles,
And thus this god throughe his merite
Wil with fome inanir thing the quite,
So that thou wilte be of gode chere ;
For truftith wel that thou fhalte here,
Whan we ben comen there as I fay,
Mo wondir thingis dare I lay,
And of Love's folke mo tidingis,
Bothe fothfawis and lefingis,
And of mo lovis newe begon,
And longe fervid tyl love is won,
And of mo lovirs cafuclly
That ben betide, no man wote why,
But as a blinde man ftarteth an hare,
And more jolite and welfare,
Whilis they findin love of ftele,
As thinkin men, and o'r al wele
Mo difcordes and mo jalcufies,
Mo murmures and mo novilries,
And alfo mo diffimulacions,
And eke feinid reperacions,
And mo berdis in two houres,
Withoutin rafour or fifoures
Ymade, than grainis be of fandes,
And eke mo holdinge in mo handes,
And alfo mo renovelaunces,
Of olde forletin aqueintaunces,
Mo love dayis and mo eccordes,
Than on inftrumentis ben cordes,
And eke of love mo exchaungis
Than evir corne were in graungis;
Unnethis maift thou trowin this,
(Quod he.) No fo', helpe me God as wis,
(Quod I.) No, why? (quod he.) For it
Were impoflible to my wit,
Although that Fame had al the pyes
In al a relme and al afpies,
Howe that yet he fhulde here al this
Or they efpyin. O! yes, yes,
(Quod he to me) that can I preve
By refon worthy for to leve,
So that thou give thin advertence
To understandin my fentence.
Firſt falt thou here where fhe dwellith,
Right fo as thine owne boke tellith:
Her palais ftandeth, as I fhal fay,
Right even amiddis of the way
Bytwene hevin, and yerthe, and fe,
That what fo er in al thefe thre
Is fpoken' in priye or apperte,
The way therto is fo overte,
And ftante eke in fo jufle a place,
That every fowne mote to it pace,
Or what fo cometh from anie tongue,
Whethre' it be rownid, redde, or fonge,
Or fpokin in fuertè or drede,
Curtaine it motin thidig medë,
Boke I.
Jiz
THE
HOUSE OF FAM E.
1
Nowe herkin wel; for why I wil
Ytellin the a propir ſkil,
And worthy demonftracion
In mine imaginacion.
Geffray, thou wottift full wel this,
That every kindely thinge that is
Yhath a kyndely ftede, there he
May beſt in it confervid be,
Unto whiche place every thinge,
Thorough his kyndely enolininge
Ymevith for to comin to
Whan that it is away therfro;
As thus, lo! thou maiſte al day ſe,
Take any thinge that hevy be,
As ftone or led, or thinge of weight,
And bere it ner fo hie on height,
Let go thine hande it fallith downe;
Right fo fay I by fire or fowne,
Or fmoke, or othir thingis light,
Alway they feke upwarde on height,
Light thinges up and hevie down charge
While everiche of 'hem be at large;
And for this cauſe thou maiſt wel ſe
That every rivir to the fe
Enclinid is to go by kynde,
And by theſe fkillis as I finde
Have fiſhes dwellinge in flode and ſe,
And treis eke on the erthe be:
Thus every thinge by his refon
Hath his owne propir mancion,
To whiche he fekith to repaire
There as it fhuldin nat appaire.
Lo! this fentence is knowin couthe
Of every philofophir's mouthe,
As Ariftotle' and Dan Platone,
And othir clerkis many one;
And to confirmin my refoune
Thou wotiſt wel that ſpeche is fowne,
Or ellis no man might it here;
Nowe herkin what I wol the lere.
Sowne is not but eyre ybrokin,
And every fpeche that is ſpokin,
Where loude or prive, foule or faire,
In his fubftaunce ne is but eyre;
For as flame is but lightid finoke,
Right fo is fowne but eyre ybroke :
But this may be in many wife,
Of the whiche I will the devile,
As fowne comith of pype or harpe,
For whan a pype is blowin fharpe
The cyre is twift with violence
And rent; lo! this is my fentence:
Eke whan that men harpeftringis fmyte,
Whedir that it be moche or lyte,
Lo! with the froke the eyre it breketh,
And right fo breketh it whan men fpeketh;
Thus woft thou wel what thing is fpeche:
Nowè hennisforthe I wil the teche
Howe everiche fpeche, voice, or fowne,
Throughe his multiplicaciowne,
Thoughe it were pipid of a mouſe,
Mote nedis come to Fam'is Houfe:
I prove it thus; takith hede nowe
By experience, for if that they
Threwe in a watir nowe a ftone,
Wel wofte thou it wil make anone
A lityl roundil as a circle,
Para'venture as brode as a covircle,
And right anone thou fhalte ſe wele
That circle caufe anothir whele,
And that the thirde, and fo forthe, brother,
Every circle cauſinge other
Moch brodir than himfelfin was,
And thus from roundil to compas
Eche aboutin othir goinge
Ycaufith of othirs fteringe
And multiplying evirme,
Tyl that it be ſo far ygo
That it at bothè brinkis be,
Although thou mayiſt it not ſe
Above, yet gothe it alwaye under;
Although thou thinke it a grete wondez,
And whofo faithe of trouthe I vary,
Bydde him provin the contrary:
And right thus every worde ywis,
That loude or pryve' yfpokin is,
Ymovith firfte an eyre aboute,
And of his movinge out ef doute
Anothir eyre anone is moved,
As I have of the watir proved,
That every circle caufith other;
Right fo of eyre, my levè brother,
Everiche eyre anothir fterith
More and more, and ſpeche ap berith,
Or voiſe or noyfe, or werde or ſowne,
Aye through multiplicaciowne,
Tyl it be at The Houfe of Fame,
Take it in erneft or in game.
Nowe have I telde, if thou have.mind,
Howe fpeche or fowne of purè kinde
Enclinid is upward to meve,
This mayift thou fele wel by preve,
And that fame kindly ſtede ywis,
That every thinge enclined to is,
Yhath alfo his kyndelyche ftede,
'That fhewith it withoutin drede,
That kindly the mancioun
Of everyche fpeche, of every foune,
All be it either foule or faire,
Yhath his kindely place in eyre;
And fith that every thinge ywis
-Out of his kindely place ywis
Ay movith thidir for to go,
Yf that it awaye be therfro,
As I have before provid the,
It fhewith every fonne perde
Ymovith kindely to pace
As up into his kindely place;
And this place of whiche I the tel,
There as Fame doth yliſte to dwell,
Is fette ainiddis of thefe thre,
Hevin, and erthe, and eke the fe,
As mofte confervatife of foun;
Than is this the conclufion
That every fpeche of every manne,
As I the tellin firfte beganne,
Ymovith up on height to pace
Kindely unto Fam'is place.
Nni
}
564
Boke II.
THE HOUSE OF
FAME.
>
Tellith me this nowe faithfully,
Have I not provid thus fimply,
Withoutin any fubtilte
Of ſpeche, or grete prolixyte
Of termis of philofophie,
Of figuris of poetrie,
Or colouris of thetorike?
Perde it oughtin the to like,
For harde langage and harde matere
Is incombrous for the to here
At onis, wofte thou not wel this?
And I anfwerid and faid, Yes
Ah ha! (quod he) lo! ſo I can
Leudlye unto a leude man
Yfpeke, and fhewin him foche ſkilles
That he maye ſhake 'hem by the bylles,
So palpable they fhuldin be;
But tel me this nowe praye I the,
Howe thinketh the my conclufioun ?
Parde a gode perfuafioun
(Quod I) it is, and lyke to be,
Right fo as thou hafte provid me.
By God (quod he) and as I leve
Thou halte have it or it be eve,
Of every worde of this fentence
A profe by thine experience,
And with thine eris herin wel
The toppe and taile, and every del,
That every worde that ſpokin is
Comith into Fame's Houfe ywis
As I have faide; what wilt thou more?
And with this werde uppir to fore
He began, and faide, By fainte Jame
Nowe wyll we ſpekin al of game.
Howe fareft thou now? quod he to me.
Right wel, (quod I.) Now fe (quod he)
By thy trouthe yondir adowne,
Where that thou knowift any towne
Or houfe, or any othir thinge,
And whan thou hafte of ought knowynge
Tho lokith that thou warnè mc,
And I anone fhal tellin the
How farre that thou arte nowe therfro.
And I adoune gan lokin tho,
And behelde the feldis and plainis,
Nowe hyllis and nowe mountainis,
Nowę valeys and nowe foreftis,
And nowe unnethis grete beftis,
Nowe riveris nowe citeis,
Nowe townis and nowe grete trcis,
Nowe fhippis failinge in the ſe;
But thus fone in a while he
Was flowin fro the grounde fo hye
That al the worlde, as to myne eye,
No more yfemid than a pricke,
Or cllis was the eyre fo thicke
That I ne might it not diſcerne;
With that he spake to me ſo yerne,
And faid, Seift thou any token,
Or ought that in this worlde's of ſpoken ?
I anfwered Naye, No wondir is,
(Quod he) for halfe fo hyc as this
-
N'as Alexandre', of Macedon
Kynge, ne of Rome Dan Scipion,
That fawe in dreme at pointe deviſe
Heven and erthe, hel and paradiſe,
Ne eke the bold wretche Dædalus,
Ne yet his childe, nice Icarus,
'That flewe ſo hiè that the hete
Hys wingis molte, and he fel wete
In mydde the fe, and there he dreinte,
For whom was made a grete complainte.
Nowe tourne upwarde (quod he) thy face,
And beholde here this large place,
This eyre, but loke that thou ne be
Adrad of hem that thou fhalt fe,
For in this regioun certaine
Dwellith many a citizeine,
Of whiche yſpekith Dan Plato,
Thefe ben the eyriſhe beftis, la!
And tho fawe I al the menye
That bothe ygone and alſo flye.
Lo there! (quod he) caſt up thine eye,
Se yondir, lo! the Galaxie,
The whiche men clepe The Milky Way,
For it is white, and fome parfay
Ycallin it han Watlynge ftrete,
That onis was brente with the hete,
Whan that the funn'is fonne the rede,
Which that hite Phaeton, wolde lede
Algate his fathir's carte and gie.
The carte horfis gan wel afpie
That he ne coude no govirnaunce,
And gonin for to lepe and praunce,
And bere him now up and nowe downe
Tyl that he fawe the Scorpiowne,
Whiche that in heven a figne is yit,
And he for fere ylofte his wit
'Of that, and let the reinis gone
Of his horfis, and they anone
Sone up to mounte and downe difcende,
Tyl bothe the eyre and erthe ybrende,
Tyl Jupiter, lo! at the lafte
Hym flewe, and fro the carte ycaſte.
Lo! is it not a grete miſchaunce
To let a fole barve govirnaunce
Of thinges that he can not demaine?
And with this worde, fothe for to faine,
He gan alway uppir to fore,
And gladid me than more and more,
So faithfully to me fpake he.
Tho gan I to loke undir me,
And behelde the eyrifhe beftis
Cloudis, myftis, and tempiftis,
Snowis, hailis, rainis, and windes,
And the engendringe in ther kindes,
Al the way thoroughe whiche I came;
O God! (quod I) that made Adame,
Moche is thy myght and noblenes!
And tho thought I upon Boece,
That writeth a thought may flye ſo hie
With fethirs of philofophie
To paflin everyche element;
And when he hath fo farre ywent
Than may ben fene behinde his backe
Cloude, erthe, and al that I of ſpake.
Tho gan I wexin in a were,
And faid, I wote wel I am here,
Boke 11.
365
THE HOUSE OF FAME.
But whether in body or in goſt
I n'ot ywis, but God thou woft,
For a more clere entendèment
N'as to me nevir yet yfent.
And than thought I on Marcian,
And eke of Anticlaudian,
That fothe was ther difcripcion
Of al the hevin's region,
As farre as that I fawe the preve,
And therfore I can 'hem beleve.
With that the cgle gan to crie,
Let be (quod he) thy fantafie:
Wylte thou lernin of fterris ought?
Nay, certainly, (quod I) right nought.
And why? (quod he.) For I am olde.
Or ellis wolde I the have tolde
(Quod he) the ſtarris namis, lo !
And al the hevin's fignis to,
And whiche they be. No force (quod I.)
Yes perde, (quod he;) woft thou why?
For whan thou rediſt poëtry,
Howe the goddis can ftellify
A birde, a fyfhe, or him or her,
As of birdes the ravyn and other,
Or Ariones harpè fyne,
Or Caftor Pollux, or Delphine,
Or Atlante's doughtirs ſeven,
How al thefe are yfet in heven,
For though thou have 'hem ofte in hande
Yet n'oft thou nat where that they ftande.
No force, (quod I;) it is no nede:
As wel I leve, fo God me ſpede,
"Hem that writin of this matere
As though I knewe ther placis here,
And eke they femin here fo bright
That it fhulde fhendin al my fight
To loke on 'hem. That may wel be,
(Quod he;) and fo forth bare he me
A while, and tho began to crie,
That nevir herde I thinge fo hie;
Holde up thine hed, for al is wel
Sainte Julian, lo! bonne hoſtel!
Se here The Houfe of Fame, io!
Mayift thou not here that I do?
Here what? (quod I.) The gretè fowne
(Quod he) that romblith up and downe
In Fam'is Houfe, ful of tidinges
Bothe of faire fpeche and of chidinges,
And of falſe and fothe compownid;
Herkin wel, it is not rownid.
Herift thou not the gretè fwough?
Yes, perde, (quod I) well ynough.
And what fowne is it lyke? (quod he.)
Peter lyke the' beting of the fe
(Quod 1) againſt the rochis halowe,
Whan tempeftes done ther fhippis fwalow,
And that a man ftande out of doute
A myle off thens and here it route;
Or ellis lyke to the humblinge
Aftir the clappe of a thundringe,
Whan Jovis hath the eyre ybctc,
But it doth me for fere to fwete.
Nay, drede the not therof, 'quod he)
It is nothing that will bytin the;
Thou shalte have no harme truily.
And with that worde both he and I
As nighe the place arrivid were
As men might caftin with a ſpere:
I ne wift howe, but in a ftrete
He fet me faire upon my fete,
And fayid, Walkith forth a pace,
And tel thine advínture and cafe
That thou fhalte finde in Fam'is place.
Nowe (quod I) while that we have ſpacs
To fpeke, or that I go fro the,
For the love of God tellith me
In fothe that I will of the lere,
If this ilke noiſe which that I here
Be as I have herde the me tell,
Of folke that done in erthe ydwell,
And comith here in the fame wife
As I the herde or this devife,
And that here liv'is body n'is
In all that Houfe that yondir is
That makith al this loud fare.
No, (anfwerid he) by Sainte Clare,
And al fo wiffely God rede me:
But o thinge I will warrè the,
Of the whiche thou wilte have wondir.
Lo to The Houſe of Fame yondir.
Thou wofte howe comith every fpeche,
It nedith not the efte to teche;
But underſtande now right wel this,
Whan any fpeche ycomin is
Up to the palais, anone right
It wexith like the fame wight
Whiche that the worde in erth yfpake,
Be he clothid in red or blake,
And hath ſo very his likeneffe
That fpake the worde, that thou wilte geffe
That it the fam÷ body be,
Wher man or woman, he or ſhe.
And is not this & wondir thinge?
Yes, quod I) tho by hevin kinge:
And with this worde Farewel, (quod he)
And here wil I abydin the,
And God of hevin fende the grace
Some gode to lernin in this place!
And I of him toke leve anone,
And gan forth to the palays gone,
N n iij
506
Boke 111.
THE HOUSE OF FAME.
1
THE THIRD BOKE.
Tnov, god of Science and of Light,
Apollo thorough thy grete might
This litil laft boke now thou gye,
Nowe that I will for maiſtèrie
Here arte potenciall be fhewde,
But for the rime is lyght and lewde
Yet make it fonawhat agreable,
Though fome verfe faile in a fyllable,,
And that I do no diligence
To fhewin, craftè but fentence;
And if that-divine virtue thou
Wilte helpin me to ſhewin nowe
That in hed ymarkid is,
my
Lo! that is for to menin this,
'The Houfe of Fame for to diſcrive,.
Thou shalt yfe me go as blive
Unto the next laurir I fe,
And kyffe it for it is thy tre:
Nowe entre in my breft anone.
Whan I was from the egle. gone,..
J'gan beholde upon this place,
And certaine or I furthir paffe
I wol you al the fhape devife
Of Houſe and cite, and al the wife
Howe I gan to this place approche,
That ftode upon fo.hie a roche,
Hyir yffandith none in Spaine;
But up I clambe with mochil paine,
And though to clime ygrevid me
Yet I ententife was to fe,
And for to porin. wondre lowc,
If I coude any wife yknowe
What manir flone this roche ywas,
For it was lyke a limid glas,
But that it hone ful morè clere,
But of what congelid matere
It was I ne wifte redky,
But at the lafle eſpyid I,
Ard founde that it was everydele
A roche of yfe and act of file:
Thought I, by Saint Thomas of Kent
This were a feble foundèment
To buildin on a place fo hie ;
He ought hym lite to glorifie
That heron builte, God fo me fave.
Tho fawe I all the hall igrave
With famous folkis namis fele
That haddin ben in mochil wele,
And ther famis full wide iblowe,
But well unnethis might I knowe
Any lettiris for to rede
Ther namis by, for out of drede
Thei werin almofte of thawed fo-
That of the lettirs one or two
Were molte 'awaie of every name,
So unfamous was wexe ther fame;
But men faie, What maie evir laft?
Tho gan I in myne hertè caft
That thei were molte awaie for hete,
And not awaie with ſtormis bete,
For on that othir fide I fey
Of this. hill, that northward yley,.
How it was writin full of names
Of folke that had afore grete fames
Of oldè tyme, and yet thei were
As freſhe as men had written 'hem there
The felf daie, or that verry houre,
That I on 'hem began to poure;
But well I wiftè what it made,
It was confervid with the ſhade,
All the writyng which that I fic,.
Of a caftill that ftode on hie,
And ſtodo eke in fo cold a place
That Hete ne might it not deface.
Tho gan I on this hill to gone,
And found upon the coppe a wone,
That all the men that ben on live
Ne han the connyng to difcrive
The beaute of that ilke place,
Ne coudin caftin no compace
Bole III.
557
THE HOUSE OF FAM E.
Soche an othir for to ymake
That might of beautie be his make,
Ne one fo wondirly iwrought,
That it aftonieth yet my thought,
And makith all my witte to fwinke,
Upon this caftill for to thinke,
So that the wondir grete beautie,
Cafte, craft, and curiofitie,
Ne can I not to you devife,
My witte ne maie me not ſuffiſe,
But nachèleffe all the fubftaunce
I have yet in my remembraunce;
For why? me thoughtin, by Sainct Gile,
That all was ftone of berile
Bothe the caftill and the toure,
And eke the hall and every boure,
Withoutin pecis or joynynges,
But many fubtill compaffynges,
As barbicans and pinnacles,
Imageries and tabernacles,
I fawe, and full eke of windowes,
As flakis fallin in grete fnowes,
And eke in eche of the pinacles
Ywerin fondrie habitacles,.
In whiche ftodin all withoutin
Full the caftill all aboutin
Of all manir of minſtralis
And jeftours, that tellin talis
Bothe of wepyng and eke of game,
And all that longith unto Fanie :
There herde I playing on an harpe,
That yfounid bothe well and fharpe,
Hym Orpheus full craftily,
And on this othir ſide faſt by
Yfatte the harpir Orion,
And Gacides Chirion,
And othir harpirs many one,
And the Briton Glafkirion,
And fmalè harpirs with ther glees
Satte undir 'hem in divers fees,
And gone on 'hem upwarde to gape,
And counterfaited 'hem as an ape,
Or as Crafte counterfeitith Kinde.
Tho fawe I ftandin 'hem behinde,
Afarre from 'hem, al by 'hem felve,
Many a thouſande tymis twelve,
That madin loude minftralfies
In cornmufe and eke in fhalmies,
And in many an othir pipe,
That craftily began to pipe
Bothe in doucid and eke in rede,
That ben at feftis with the brede,
And many' a floite and litlyng horne,
And pipis made of grenè corne,
As have thefe little herdigromes
That kepin beftis in the bromes.
There fawe I then Dan Citherus,
And of Athenes Dan Profèrus,
And Mercia, that lofte her ſkinne
Bothe in the face, bodie, and chinne,
For that he would envyin, lo!
To pipin bette than Apollo.
There fawe I famous old and yong
Pipiris cf all the Duche tong,
To lernin love dauncis fpringis,
Reyis, and the ftraung thingis.
Tho fawe I in an othir place,
Ytandyng in a large ſpace,
Of 'hem that makin blodie foun
In trump, beme, and clarioun,
For in fight and in blodefhed, nges
Is ufid glad clarionynges.
There herde I trumpin Meffenus,
Of whom that ſpekith Virgilius.
There herd I Joab trumpe alfo,
Theodomas, and othir mo,
And all that ufid clarion
In Cafteloigne and Aragon,
That in ther tymis famous were,
To lernin fawe I trumpin there.
There fawe I fit in othir fees,
Playing on othir fondrie glees,
Whiche that I can not now nevin,
Mo then fterris ben in hevin,
Of whiche I n'ill as now not rime
For efe of you and loffe of time,
For Tyme iloft, this knowin ye,
By no waie maie recovered be.
There fawe I playing jogèlours,
Megiciens and tragètours,
And Phetoniffis, charmereffis,
And olde witchis and forcereffis,
That ufen exorfifacions
And eke fubfumigacions,
And clerkis eke which connin well
All this magike hight Naturell,
That craftily doe ther ententes
To maken in certain afcendentes
Imagis, lo through whiche magike
To maken a man ben whole or fike.
There fawe I the Quene Medea,
And Circe and Caliophia.
There fawe I Hermes Ballenus,
Limote, and eke Symon Magus.
There fawe I, and yknewe by name,
That by foche arte doen men have fame.
There fawe I eke Coll Tragetour
Upon a table' of ficamour
Playin an uncouth thyng to tell;
I fawe hym cary a windemell
Undir a walnote fhale.
What should I makin lengir tale ?
Of all the peple that I fey
I could not tell till dom'ifdey.
When I had all this folke beholde,
And founde me loce and not yholde,
And I amufid a longe while
Upon this wall all of berile,
That hone lightir than any glas,
And made well more then it ywas,
As it kindely thing of Fame is,
And then right anone aftir this
forthe romin till I fonde
I
gan
The caftili yate on my right honde,
Whiche all fo well ycorvin was
That nevir foche an othir n'as,
And yet it was by avinture
Iwrought by grete and fubtill cure;
Nn iiij
THE HOUSE OF FAME.
Boke 111,
It nedith not you more to tellen,
To makin you to long to dwellen,
Of theſe ilke yatis flouriſhynges,
Ne of compacisne karvynges,
Ne the hackyng in mafouries,
As corbettis and imageries.
But Lorde, fo faire it was to fhewe!
For it was all with golde behewe;
but in I went, and that anone:
There met I crying many one,
A larges, larges! holde up well;
God fave the ladic of this pell,
Our ownè gentill Ladie Fame,
And 'hem that willen to have a name
Of us! Thus heard I cryin all,
And faft comin out of the hall
And fhoke noblis and ftarlyngis,
And corounid were as kyngis
With crownis wrought full of lofynges,
And many ribans many fringes
Werc on ther clothis truily.
Tho at the laft elpyid I
That purfevauntes and heraudis,
That cryin riche folkis laudis,
It werin all; and every man
Of 'hem, as I you tellin can,
Had on him throwin a veſture
Whiche men yclepe a cote armure,
Embroudirid wondirly riche,
As though thei werin not iliche:
But nought will I, fo mote I thrive,
Be now aboutin to difcrive
All theſe armis that there yweren
That thei thus on ther cotis weren,
For to me were impoffible,
Men might make of 'hem a Bible
Full twentie fote thicke as Itrowe,
For certain who fo coud it knowe
might there all the armis fene
Of famous folke that er had bene
In Affrike, Europe, and Afie,
Bithins firft began chivalrie.
Lo! how fhould I now tell all this!
Ne of the hall eke what nede is
To tellin you? that every wall
Of it, and rofe, and flore withall,
Was platid halfe a fotè thicke
Of golde, and that ne was not wicke,
But for to provin in all wife
As fine as ducket in Venife,
Of whiche to lite all in my pouche is;
And thei were fet as thicke of ouchis
Fine, of the finift ftonis faire
'That men reden in the lapidaire,
Or as graflis growen in a mede;
But it were all to long to rede-
"The namis, and therefore I pace.
But in this luftie and riche place,
That Fam'is Hall ycallid was,
Jull mochil prcs of folke there n'as,
Ne crouding, for to mochil pres;
But all on hie above a des
satte in a fe imperiall
That made was of rubic roiall
Whiche that a carbuncle is called,
I fawe perpetually iftalled
A femine creture,
That nevir formid by Nature
Was foche an othir thyng 1 faie;
For althirürfte, the fothe to faie;
Me thoughtin that fhe was fo lite
That the fmale length of a cubite
Was lengir than fe femid be,
But thus fone in a while fhe
Her felf tho' wondirly yftreight
That with her fete the th' erthe Freight,
And with her hedde fhe touchid heven
There as fhinith the fterris feven;
And thereto yet, as to my wit,
I fawin a grete wondir yit,
Upon her eyin to beholde,
But certainly' I 'hem nevir tolde,
For as fele eyin haddin fhe
As fethirs upon foulis be,
Or werin on the beftis foure
That Godd'is trone can to honoure,
As writeth Thon in the' Apocalyps,
Her here, that was owndie and crips.
As burnid golde it fhone to fe.
And, fothe to tellin alfo, fhe
Had alfo fele upſtandyng eres,
And tongis as on beft ben heres,
And on her fete woxin fawe I
Partrich'is wingis redily.
But Lorde! the perrie' and the richeffe
I fawe fittyng on the goddeffe,
And the hevinly melodie
Of fongis full of armonie
I herde about her trone ifong,
That all the palais wall yrong!
So fonge the mightie Mufe, the
That clepid is Caliope,
And her fevin fuftirin eke,
That in ther facis femid meke,
And evirmore eternally
Thei fongin of Fame; tho heard I,
Yheried be thou and thy name,
Goddeffe of Renoun and of Fame!
Tho was I aware at the laft,
As I myne eyin gan upcaft,
That this ilke grete and noble quene
Upon her fhuldirs gan fuftene
Bothe the armis and the name
Of tho that haddin largè fame,
Alifander and Hercules,
That with a fherte his life did lefe;
And thus founde I fittyng this goddeffe
In noble honour and richeffe,
Of which I flinte a while now,
Of othir thing to tellin you.
Tho fawe I ftande on th' other fide,
Streight doune unto the doris wide,
From the dees many a pillere
Of metall that thone not full clere,
But though thei were of no richeffe
Yet were thei made for grete nobleffe,
And in 'hem was there grete fentence,
And folke of hie and digne reverence,
}
I
Bek: 111.
569
THE HOUSE OF FAME.
Of which to tellin will I fonde.
Upon a pillir fawe 1 ftonde,
Alderfirft there yfie,
Upon a pillir ftonde on hie,
That was of lede and iron fine,
Hym of the fectè Saturnine,
The Ebraike Jofephus the old,
That of the Jewis geftis told,
And he bare on his fhuldirs hie
All the fame up of the Jurie;
And by hym ftodin othir feven,
Full wife and worthie for to neven,
To helpe hym berin up the charge,
It was fo hevie and ſo large;
And for thei writtin of battailes
As well as of othir marvailes,
Therefore ywas, lo! this pillere,
Of the whiche I you tellin here,
Of lede and iron bathe iwis,
For iron Mart'is metall is,
Whiche that the god is of Battaile,
And eke the lede withoutin faile
Is, lo the metall of Saturne,
That hath ful large whele to turne,
To ftandin forthe on eithir rowe
Of 'hem whiche that I could yknowe,
Though I by ordir 'hem not tell,
To makin you to long to dwell.
Thefe, of the whiche I gan to rede,
Thefe fawe I ftandin out of drede
Upon an iron pillir ftrong,
That painted was all end long
With tigris blode in every place,
The Tholafon, with that height Stace,
That bare of Thebis up the name
Upon his fholdirs, and the fame
Alſo of cruill Achilles;
And by hym ftode withoutin lefe
Full wondir hic on a piller
Of iron he the grete Omer,
And with him Dares and Titus
Before, and eke he Lollius,
And Guide eke de Columpnis,
And Engliſh Gafride eke iwis;
And eche of theſe, as I have joye,
Was bufie for to bere up Troye,
So hevie thereof was the fame,
That for to bere it was no game;
But yet I gan full well eſpie
Betwene 'hem was a little' envie;
One faied that Omer madè lies
And feinyng in his poëtries,
And was to the Grekes favourable,
And therefore helde he it but fable.
Tho fawe I ftande on a pillere
That was of tinnid iron clere,
Him the Latine pocte Virgile,
That hath bore up a longè while
The fame of pius Æneas.
And next him on a pillir was
Of coppir Venus clerke Ovide,
That hoth yfowin wondirs wide
The grete god of Lov'is fame,
And there he bare up well his name
Upon this piller al ſo hie,
As might fe it with myne eye;
For why? this hall whereof I rede
Was woxe on height, and length, and brede
Well more by a thouſande dele
Than it was erft, that fawe I wele.
Tho fawe I on a pillir by
Of iron, wrought full fternily,
The grete poete, him Dan Lucan,
That on his fhouldirs bare up than,
As hie as that I might it ſe,
The fame of Julius and Pompe,
And by hym ftodin all theſe clerkes
That write of Rom'is mightie werkes,
That if I would ther namis tell
Tho all to long ymuft I dwell.
And nexte hym on a pillir ftode
Of fulphure, liche as he were wode,
Dan Claudian, fothe for to tell,
That bare up all the fame of hell,
Of Pluto and of Proferpine,
That quene is of the derke pine.
What ſhould I more tellin of this ?
The hall ywas all full iwis
Of 'hem that writtin oldè jeftes
As ben on treis rokis neftes,
But it a full confuſe mattere
Were all thefe jeftis for to here
That thei of write, and how thei height:
But while that I beheld this fight
I herde a noiſe approchin blive,
That fareth as bees doen in an hive
Ayenit ther tyme of out flying,
Right foche a manir murmuryng
For all the worlde it femid me.
Tho gan I loke about, and fe
That there come entryng into the hall
A right grete companic withall,
And that of fondrie regions,
Of all kind of condicions
That dwell in yerthe undir the mone,
Bothe pore and riche and alfo fone
As thei were come into the hall
Thei gan on kneis doune to fall
Before this ilkè noble quene,
And fayid, Graunt us, ladie fhene!
Eche of us of thy grace a bone.
And fome of 'hem fhe grauntid fone,
And fome fhe warnid well and faire,
And fome fhe grauntid the contrarie
Of ther aſkyng all attirlie;
But this I faie you truilie,
What that her grace was I ne wift,
For of thefe folke full well 1 wift
Thei haddin gode fame eche deferved,
Although thei were diverſly ſerved,
Right as her fiftir Dame Fortune
Is wont to fervin in commune.
Now herkin how the gan to paie
'Hem that gan her of grace to praie,
And yet, lo! all this companie
Yfaidin fothe, and not a lie.
Madame, (thus fayid thei) we be
Folke whiche that here befechin the
$70
Boke III.
THE
OF FAME.
HOUSE
HOUSE
That thou grauintin as now gode Fame,
And let our workis have gode name;
In full recompenfacion
Of gode worke give us gode renoun.
I warne it you (quod fhe anone)
Ye gettin of me gode Fame none.
By God, and therefore go your waie.
Alas, (quod thei) and welawaie!
Tellith us what your caufe maie be.
For that me lifte it not, (quod ſhe,)
No wight fhall fpeke of you iwis
Ne gode ne harme ne that ne this.
And with that worde fhe gan to call
Her meffengir that was in hall,
And bad that he ſhould faft ygone,
Upon pain to be blinde anone,
For Æolus, the god of Winde,
In Thrace there ye fhall hym yfinde,
And bid hym bryng his clarioun
That is full divers of his foun,
And it is clepid Clerè Laude.
With which he wont is to heraude
'Hem that that me lift ipraifid be;
And alſo bid hym now that he
Bryng cke his othir clarioun,
That hight Sclaundir in every toune,
With whiche he wont is to diffame
'Hem that me lift and doe 'hem ſhame,
This meffengir gan faft to gone,
And founde where in a cave of ftone,
In a countre which that hight Thrace,
This Æolus with hardè grace
Yhelde the windis in dittreffe,
And gan 'hem undir hym to prcffe,
That thei gone as the beris rore,
He bounde and preffid 'hem fo fore.
This meffengir gan faſt to crie,
Rife up (quod he) and faſt the hie
Untill thou at my ladie be,
And take thy clarions eke with the,
And ſpede the faſt: and he anone
Toke to him one that hight Tritone,
His clarions to berin tho,
And let a certain winde ygo,
That blewe fo hidouſly and hie
'That it ne leftè not a ſkie
In all the welkin long and brodc.
This Дolus no where abode
Till he was come to Fam'is fcte,
And eke the man that Triton hete,
And there he ftode as ftill as ftone:
And here withall there came anone
An othir huge companie
Of gode folke, and began to crie
Ladie! grauntith us now gode Fame,
And let our workis have that name,
Now in honour of gentilneffe,
And al fo God your foule ybleffe,
For we han well defervid it,
Therefore is right that we be quit.
As thrive I (quod fhe) ye fhall faile,
Gode workis fhall you not availe
To have of me gode Fame as now;
But wote ye what? I grauntin yowe
That ye fhall havin a fhrewde name,
And wickid loos worfè Fame,
Though ye gode loos have well deſerved;
Now goeth your waie, for yc ben ſerved,
And thou Dan Eolus, (quod fhe)
Take forthe thy trompe anone, let fe,
That is iclepid Sclaundir light,
And blowe ther loos, that every wight
Speke of 'hem harme and fhreudineffe
In ftede of gode and worthineffe,
For thou fhalt trumpe all the contraire
Of that thei have doen well and faire.
Alas! thought 1, what avintures
Thavin thefe forie crctures,
That thei emongis al the pres
Should thus be fhamid giltiles!
But what? it muſt nedis ybe.
What did this Eolus? but he
Toke out his blackè trompe of bras,
That foulir then the devill was.
And gan this tromp for to blowe
As all the worlde fhould ovirthrowe:
Throughout evèry regioun
Ywent this foulè trump'is foun
As fwift as pellit out of gonne
When fire is in the poudir ronne,
And foche a fmokè gan out wende
Out of the foulè trump'is ende,
Blacke, blue, and grenifhe, fwartifhe, rede
As doith where that man melte lede,
Lo! all on hie from the tewell;
And therto one thyng fawe I well,
That ay the ferthir that it ranne
The gretir wexin it beganne,
As doeth the rivir from a well,
And it ſtanke as the pitte of hell:
Alas! thus was ther fhame irong,
And giltleffe, on every tong,
Tho came the thirdè companie,
And gone up to the decs to hie,
And doune on knees thei fell anone,
And faidin, We ben everichone
Folke that yhan full truilic
Defervid Famè rightfullic,
1
And prayin you it might be knowe
Right as it is, and forthe yblowe.
I graunte (quod fhe), for now me lig
That your gode workis fhall be wiſt,
And yet ye shall have bettir loos,
Right in difpite of all your foos,
Then worthic is, and that anone.
Let now (quod fhe) thy trumpè gone,
Thou olus, that is fo blacke,
And out thyne othir trumpè take
That hightin Laude, and blowe it ſo
That through the worlde ther Fame may ge
All etily and not to faſt,
That it be knowin at the laft.
Ful gladly, ladie myne! he faied;
And out his trumpe of golde he braied
Anone, and fet it to his mouthe,
And blowe it elt, and wett, and fouthe,
And northe, as loude as any thonder,
That every wight hath of it wonder,
Boke III.
57%
THE
HOUSE OF FAME.
So brode it ran or that it ftent;
And certis all the breth that went
Out of his trump'is mouthe yfmelde
As men a potte full of baume helde
Emong a bafkit full of rofes;
This favour did he to ther lofes.
And right with this I gan eſpie
There came the fowirth companie,
But certaine thei were wondir fewe,
And gonne to ſtandin on a rewe,
And faidin, Certis, ladie bright!
We have doen well with all our might,
But we ne kepe to havin Fame;
Hidith our workis and our name
For Godd'is love, for certis we
Have furely doen it for bounte,
Aud for no manir othir thyng.
I grauntin you all your aſkyng,
(Quod fhe ;) let your workis be dedde.
With that about I tourned my hedde,
And fawe anone the fivith rout,
That to this ladie gan to lout,
And doune on knees anone to fall,
And to her tho befoughtin all
To hidin ther gode workis eke,
And fayid, thei yeve not a leke
For no Fame, ne no foche renoun,
For thei for contemplacioun
And Godd'is love had it ywrought,
Ne of Fame wouldin thei have nought.
What! (quod fhe) and be ye fo wode?
And wenin ye for to doe gode,
And for to have of that no Fame?
Have ye difpite to have my name?
Naie, ye fhall lyin everichone.
Blowith thy trumpe, and that anone;
(Quod fhe) thou olus, I hote,
And ring theſe folkis workes by note,
That all the worlde maic of it here:
And he gan blowe ther loos fo clere
Within his goldin clariqun,
That through the worlde ywent the foun
Al fo kindely and eke ſo ſoft
That ther Fame was yblowe aloft.
And tho came the fixt companie,
And gonin faft to Fame to crie
Right verily in this manere;
Thei faidin, Mercie, ladie dere!
To tellin certain as it is
We have doen neithir that ne this,
But idill all our life hath be;
But nathèleffe yet prayin we
That we maie have as gode a Fame,
And grete renome and knowin name,
As thei that have doe noble jeftes,
And have achevid all ther queftes,
As wel of love as othir thyng,
All was us nevir broche ne ryng,
Ne ellis what fro women fent,
Ne onis in ther herte iment,
To maken us onely frendly chere,
But mought ytemin us on bere,
Yet let us to the peple feme
Soche as the worlde maie of us deme
That women lovin us for wode,
It fhall do us as mochil gode,
And to our herte as moche availe
The countirpeife, efe, and travaile,
As we had wonnin with labour,
For that is dere ybought honour,
At the regard of our grete eſe;
And yet ye muft us more yplefe,
Let us beholdin eke thereto
Worthie, and wife, and gode alfo,
And riche, and happie unto love,
For Godd'is love that fitteth above;
Though we may not the bodie have
Of women, yet, fo God me fave,
Let men yglewe on us the name;
Suffifith that we have the Fame.
I graunt it (quod fhe), by my trouth,
Now, Eoluз, withoutin flouth
Take out thy trumpe of golde, (quod fhe)
And blowe as thei have afkid me,
That every man wene 'hem at efe
Although thei go in full badde leffe.
This Æolus gan it fo blowe
That through the worlde it was iknowe,
Tho came the feventh route anone,
And fill on kneis everichone,
And fayid, Ladie, graunte us fone
The fame thyng, the fanè bone,
Which that this nexte folke you have done,
Fie on you (quod fhe) everichone !
Ye naftic fwine, ye idle wretches,
Fullfillid of rottin flowe tetches!
What! falfe thevis, where ye wolde
Ben famid gode, and nothyng n'olde
Defervin why, ne nevir thought,
Men rathir you to hangin ought,
For ye be like the flepie cat,
That would have fifhe, but woft thou what?
He woll nothyng wete his clawis:
Evill thrifte come to your jawis,
And on myne, if I you it graunte,
Or doe favour you to avaunte.
Thou Eolus, thou Kyng of Thrace,
Go blowe this folke a forie grace
(Quod fhe) anone; and woft thou how?
As I fhall tellin the right nowe;
Say thefe ben they the wolde honour
Have, and do no kinde of labour,
Ne do no gode, and yet have laude,
And that men wende that belle I faude
Ne coude 'hem not of love werne,
And yet the that ygrint at querne
Is all to gode to efe ther herte.
This Eolus anone up fterte,
And with his blackè clarioun
He gan to blafin out a foun
As loud as bellith winde in hel,
And eke therewith, the fothe to tc,
This fowne was fo full of japes
As evir mowis were in apes,
And that went al the worlde aboute,
That every wight gan on 'hem ſhoute
And for to laugh as they were wode,
Soche game yfounde they in her hode
372
Book 111.
THE HOUSE OF FAME.
Tho came anothir companye
That had ydone the trechèry,
The harme and the grete wickedneffe,
That any herte coudin ygeffe,
And prayid her to have gode Fame,
And that the n'olde do 'hem no fhame,
But give 'hem loos and gode renoun,
And do it blowe in clarioun.
Nay, wis, (quod fhe) it were a vyce;
Al be there in me no juftice
Me lyft not for to do it nowe,
Ne this I ne will graunt it you.
Tho came there lepinge in a route,
And gan to clappin al aboute
Every man upon the crowne,
That al the hal began to fowne,
And fayid, Lady lefe and dere!
We ben foche folkes, as ye may here,
To tellin all the tale aright,
We ben ſhrewis every wight,
And have delite in wickidneffe,
As gode folke havin in godeneſſe,
And joye to ben yknowin fhrewes,
And ful of vice and wickid thewes,
Wherfore we praye you on a rowe
That our Famè be foche y knowe
In al thingis right as it is.
I graunte it you, (quod fhe) ywis;
But what arte thou that faieft this tale,
That werift on thy hoſe a pale,
And on thy tippet foche a bel?
Madame, (quod he) the fothe to tel
I am that ilkè fhrewe ywis
That brent the temple' of Ifidis
In Athenis, lo! that cyte.
And wherefore diddeft thou fo? (quod fhe.)
By my trouthe, (anſwerid he) Madame,
I wolde faine have had a name,
As othir folke had in the towne ;
Although they were of grete renowne
For ther vertue and ther thewis,
Thought I, as grete Fame have fhrewis
(Though it be nought) for ſhrewdèneſſe
As gode folke havin for godeneſſe,
And fithen I may not have that one
That othir n'yl I not forgone,
As for to gettin a Fame here,
The temple fet I al on fire.
Nowe done our loos be blowin fwithe,
As wifly be thou evir blythe.
Gladly (quod fhc.), Thou olus,
Herift thou not what they prayen us?
Madame, I here ful wel, (quod hc)
And I will trumpin it parde;
And toke his blackè trumpe fafte,
And gan to puffin and to blafte
Tyl it was at the world'is ende.
With that I gan aboutin wende,
For one that ftode right at my bake
Me thought ful godely to me fpake,
And fayid, Frende, what is thy name?
Arte thou come hidir to have Fame?
Have Fame nay, for fothe, frende, (quod I)
I come nat hithir grant mercy!
For no foche cauſe, by my hed,
Suffifith me as I were ded
That no wight have my name in honde;
I wot my felfe beſt howe I ftonde,
For what I drie or what I thinke
I wol my felfin al it drinke,
Certainly for the morè parte,
As ferforth as I can mine arte.
What doift thou here than? (quod he.)
(Quod I) That wol I tellin the:
The caufe why I ſtandin here
Is fome new tidinges for to lere,
Some newè thing, I ne wot what,
Tydingis eythir this or that,
Of love, or of foche thingis glade,
For certainly he that me made
To comin hidir faid to me
I fhuldin bothe yhere and ſe
In this place many wondir thinges,
But theſe ne be no foche tidinges
As I yment of. No? (quod he.)
And I anſwerid, No, parde,
For ful wel I wote evir yet,
Sithinis that firfte I had wit,
That fome folke han defirid Fame
Diverfly, and loos and gode name,
But certainly I ne wift how
Ne where that Fame dwellid or nowe,
Ne eke of her difcripcion,
No alfo her condicion,
Ne eke the ordir of her dome
Knewe I not till I hithir come.
Why than be, lo! theſe tidingis
Which that thou nowe hethir bringis,
That thou haft herde? (quod he to me:)
But nowe no force, for wel I fe
What thou defirift for to lere :
Come forthe, and flande no lengir here,
And I wol the, withoutin drede,
In to foche anothir place lede
There thou fhalte herin many one.
Tho gan I forthe with him to gone
Out of the caftil, fothe to fey.
Tho fawe I ftande in a valey,
Undir the caftil fafte by,
An houfe that Domus Dedali,
That Labyrinthus, ycleped is,
N'as made fo wondirly ywis,
Ne halfe fo quently was ywrought;
And evirmo as fwifte as thought
This queint Houfe aboutin ywent,
That nevirmo it ftill yftent,
And there came out fo gret a noiſe,
That had it ſtondin upon Oyfe
Men might have herde it efily
To Rome, I trowin fikirly;
And the noife whiche that I yherde
For al the worlde right fo it ferde.
As dothe the routinge of the ftone
That fro th' engin is letyn gone.
And al this Houfe of whiche I rede
Was made of twyggis falowe, rede,
And grene cke, and fome werin white,
Sochic as men to the cagis twhite,
Foke III.
$73
THE HOUSE OF FAME.
Cr makin of thefe paniers,
Or ellis hutchis or doffers,
That for the fwough and for the twigges
This Houſe was al ſo full of gigges,
And al fo ful eke of chirkinges,
And of many othir wirkinges,
And eke this Houfe hath of entrees
As many' as levis ben on trees
In fommir whan that they ben grene,
And on the rofe yet men may fene
A thouſande bolis, and well mo,
To lettin the fowne out ygo;
And by day in evěry tyde
Ben al the doris opin wide,
And by night eche one is unfhette;
Ne portir is there none to lette
No manir tydinges in to pace,
Ne nevir reft is in that place,
That it n'is filled full of tidinges,
Eythir loude or of whiſperinges,
And evir all the Houfis angles
Is full of rowninges and of jangles,
Of werres, of pece, of mariages,
Of reftes, of labour, of viages,
Of abode, of dethe, and of lyfe,
Of love, of hate, accorde, of ftrife,
Of loffe, of lore, and of winninges,
Of hele, of fickeneffe, or lefinges,
Of faire wethir and tempeftis,
Of qualme, of folke and of beftis,
Of divers tranfmutacions
Of eſtates and of regions,
Of truft, of drede, of jalouſy,
Of witte, of winning, of foly,
Of plenty and of grete famine,
Of chepe, of derthe, and of ruine,
Of gode or of mifgovernement,
Of fyre, and divers accident.
And lo! this Houfe of whiche I write
Sykir be ye it n'as no lite,
For it was fyxtie mile of length;~
Al was the tymbir of no ftrength,
Yet it is foundid to endure
While that it lyfte to Avinture,
That is the mothir of Tidinges,
As the fe of wellis and fpringes,
And it was fhapin lyke a cage.
Certis, (quod I) in al mine age
Ne fawe I foche an Houfe as this.
And as I wondrid me ywis
Upon this Houſe, tho ware was I
How that myne egle faſte by
Was perchid hye upon a ſtone,
And I gan freight to him to gone,
And fayid him thus, I pray the
That thou a while abidin me
For Godd'is love, and let me fene
What wondirs in that place ybene,
For yet parauntir I may lere
Some gode therin, or fomwhat here,
That lefe me were or that I went.
Peter, that is nowe myne entent,
(Quod he to me) therfore I dwel;
But certainę one thinge I the tel,
That but I bringin the therin
Ne fhal thou nevir conne the gin
To come in to it out of doute,
So fafte it whirlith, lo aboute;
But fithe that Jov'is of his grace,
As I have faid, wil the folace
Finally with theſe ilke thinges,
Thefe uncouthe fightis and tidinges,
To paffe away thine hevineffe,
Soche routhe hath he of thy diftreffe
That thon fuffredeft debonairly,
And wofte thy felvin uttirly
Wholy defperate of al bliſſe,
Sithe that Fortune hath made amiffe
The fote of al thine hert'is reft
Languiſhe, and eke in pointe to breſt,
But he through his mightie melite
Wil do the eſe, al be it lite,
And gave in expreffe commaundement,
To whiche I am obedient,
To forthir the with al my myght,
And wiſhe and techin the aright
Where thou maiſte mofte tidingis here,
Thou fhalte here many one ylere.
And with this worde he right anone
Yhent me up bytwene his tone,
And at a windowe in me brought
That in this Houfe was, as me thought,
And therewithal me thought it ſtent,
And nothinge it aboutin wente,
And me fet in the flore adoun;
But foche grete congregacioun
Of folke as 1 fawe rome about,
Some it within and fome without,
N'as nevir fene, ne fhal be efte,
That certis in this worlde n'is lefte
So many formid by Nature,
Ne ded fo many a creture,
That wel unnethís in that place
Had I a fot'is brede of ſpace;
And every wight that I fawe there
Rownid everiche in othir's ere
A newè tidinge privily,
Or els he tolde it opinly,
Right thus, and faid, Ne woft nat thou
That is betiddin, lo! right nowe?
No, certis, (quod he;tel me what;
And than he tolde him this and that,
And ſwore therto that it was fothe,
Thus hath he ſaid, and thus he dothe,
And this fhal be', and thus herde I fay,
That fhal be founde, and dare I lay;
That al the folke that is on lyve
Ne have the konninge to difcrive
Tho thingis that I herdin there,
What aloude and what in the ere;
But al the wondir mofte was this,
Whan one had herde a thinge ywis
He came ftreight to anothir wight,
And gan him tellin anone right
The fame tale that to him was tolde
Or it a forlonge way was olde,
And began fomwhat for to eche
Unto this tidinge in his fpeche
374
Boke III.
THE
HOUSE OF FAME.
More than evir it ſpokin was,
And nat fo fone departid n'as
Tho fro him that he ne ymette
With the thirde man, and er he lette
Any ftounde he ytolde him alſe;
Werin the tidinges fothe or falſe
Yet wolde he tel it nathèles,
And evirmore with mo encres
That it was erft: thus northe and fouthe
Went every tidinge fro mouth to mouthe,
And that encrefinge evirmo,
As fire is wont to quicken and go,
From a fparcle fprongin amis,
Tyl al a cite brent up is.
And whan that that was ful up fpronge,
And waxin mare on every tonge
Than er it was, and went anone
Up to a windowe out to gone,
Or but it might out there ypaffe
It gan out crepe at fome crevaffe,
And flewe forthe faftè for the nones.
And fomtyme I fawe there at ones
A lefinge and a fadde fothefawe,
That gonnin of avinture drawe
Out at a windowe for to pace,
And whan thei mettin in that place
They were acheckid bothè two,
And neithir of 'hem myght out go,
For eche othir they gonne fo croude,
Tyl eche of 'hem gan cryin loude
Let me gone firft; Nay, but let me,
And here I wol enfurin the
With vowis that thou wolt do fo,
That I fhal nevir fro the go,
But be alway thin owne fworne brother;
We wol meddle us eche in other,
'That no man be he ner fo wrothe
Shal have one of us two, but bothe
At onis, as beſide his leve,
Come we amorowe or on eve,
Be we ycryde or ftyl yrowned:
Thus fawe I falfe and fothe compowned
'Togidir flye for o tidinge;
Thus out at holis gonne to wringe
Every tidinge ftreight to Fame,
And the gan yevin eche his name
Aftir her difpoficion,
And yeve 'hem eke duracion,
Some to wexin and wanin fonc,
As dothe the faire and whitè monc,
And let him gonne; there might I fein
Wingid wondirs full faft flyin
Twenty thouſande all in a route,
As Eolus 'hem blewe aboute:
And, Lorde! this Houfe in alle times
Was ful of fhypmen and pilgrimes,
With fcrippis bretteful of lefinges,
Entermedilid with tidinges;
And eke alonè by 'hem felve
A many thouſande tymis twelve
Sawe I eke of theſe pardoners,
Currours, and eke of meffaungers,
With boxis crommid ful of lyes
As evir veffil was with lies:
And as I althirfaftift went
Aboute, and dyd al myne entent
Me for to player and for to lere,
And cke a tiding for to here,
That I had herde of fome countre,
That ſhal not nowe be tolde for me,
For it no nede is, redyly
Folke can yfinge it bet than I,
For al mote out or late or rathe
Allè the fhevis ip the fathe.
I herdin a grete noife withall
Within a cornir of the hal,
There men of love tydingis tolde,
And I gan thidirwarde beholde,
For I fawe renninge every wight
As fafte as that they haddin might,
And everyche cride, What thinge is that?
And fome faid, I a'ot nevir what :
And whan they were al on an hepe
Tho thei behinde gonnin up lepe,
And clambin up on othir fafte,
And up the noiſe on hyghin cafte,
And tredin faſt on othir's heles,
And ftampe, as men done aftir eles:
But at the lafte I fawe a man
Whiche that I nought difcrive ne can,
But he yferid for to be
A man of grete auctorite.
In
And therewithal I'anon abraide
Out of my flepè halfe afraide,
Remembring wel what I had fene,
And howe hye and ferre I had bene,
my goft, and had grete wonder
Of that the mighty god of Thonder
Had let me knowen, and gan to write
Lyke as ye have herde me endite,
Wherfore to ſtudy' and rede alway
I purpoſe to do day by day.
And thus in dreminge and in game
Endith this litil Boke of Fame.
"
CERTAINE BALADES,
&c,
Here foloweth a godely Balade of Chaucer.
MOTHER of norture, beſt beloved of all,
Cautelis whofo ufith gladlic glofeth;
And frefhè floure, to whom gode thrift God fende, To efchewe foche it is right high prudence
Your childe, if it lufte you me fo to call,
All be' l' unable my felf fo to pretende,
To
your difcrecion I recommende
Mine herte and all, with every circumftaunce,
All wholly to be' undir your govirnaunce.
Mofte defire I, and have, and evir fhall,
Thing which that might your hert'is efe amende;
Have me excufed, my powir is but fmall;
Natheleffe of right ye ought for to commende
My gode will, whichè faine would entende
To doe you fervice, for my fuffifaunce
Is wholly to be' undir your govirnaunce.
Meuls'en in herte, whiche nevir fhall apall,
Aie freſhe and new, and right glad to diſpende
My time in your fervice, what fo befall,
Befechyng your excellence to defende
My fimpleueffe, if ignoraunce offende
In any wife, fith that myne affiaunce
Is whollie to be' undir your govirnaunce.
Daife of light, very ground of comfort!
The Sunn'is doughtir ye hight, as I rede,
For when he weftrith farwell your difport;
By your nature anone right for
pure drede
Of the rude Night, that with his boiftous wede
Of derkeneffe fhadowith our hemifphere,
Then clofin ye, my liv'is ladie dere!
Daunyng the daie unto his kinde refort,
And Phoebus your fathir with his ftremes rede
Adorneth the morowe, conſuming the fort
Of miftie cloudes, that wouldin ovirlede
True humble hertis with ther miftie hede,
Nere comfort adaies, when your eyin clere
Diklofe and fprede, my liv'is ladie dere!
Je vouldray; but the grete God difpofeth
And makith cafuell by his providence
Soche thing as mann'is frele wit purpofcth,
All for the beft, if that your confcience
Not grutche it, but in humble pacience
It receve, for God faith withoutin a fable
A faithfull herte evir is acceptable.
What ye faied onis mine herte oppofeth,
That my writyng japis in your abfence
Plefid you moche bettir than my preſence,
Yet can I more, ye be not excufable;
A faithfull herte evir is acceptable.
Quakith my penne, my ſpirite fuppofeth
That in my writing ye find woll offence;
Min hert welknith thus fone, anon it riſeth,
Now hotte, now colde, and eft in grete fervence
That miffe is caufid of negligence,
And not of malice, therefore beth merciable;
A faithfull herte evir is acceptable.
L'envoye.
Forthe complaint, forthe thou lacking eloquence,
Forthe litil lettir, of enditing lame,
I have befought my ladie's fapience
Of thy behalfe for to accept in game
Thine inabilite, doe thou the fame:
Abide, have more yet; Je ferve Jovelle:
Now forth, I cloſe the' in holy Venus name,
The ſhall unclofe my hert'is govirnelle.
A ballade in commendacion of our Ladie.
A THOUSANDE ftories coud I mo reherce
Of olde poetis touching this matere,
How that Cupide the hertis gan fo perce
Of his fervauntis, fettyng 'hem in fere.
Lo here the fine of th' errour and the fere,
Lo here of love the guerdone and grevaunce,
That er what wo her fervauntes do avaunce!
Wherfore now plainly I woll my ftile dreffe
Of one to fpeke at nede that woll not faile;
Alas! for dole I ne can ne maie' expreffe
Her paffyng prife, and that is no mervaile.
O winde of grace! now blowe unto my faile,
O auriate licour of Clio! to write
My penne enfpire of that I woll endite.
576
&c.
CERTAINE
BALADES,
Alas! unworthie I am and unable
To love foche one, all women furmountyng,
But the be benigne to me and merciable,
That is of pitie the welle and the fpryng;
Wherfore of her in laude and in praifyng,
So as I can, fupportid by her grace,
Right thus I faie, knelyng before her face:
O ftere of fterris, with thy ftremis clere,
Sterre of the fe, to fhipmen light and gide!
O luftic livyng, mofte plefaunt to' appere,
Whofe bright bemis the cloudis maie not hide!
O waie of life to 'hem that go or ride,
Haven aftir tempeft, furift up to rive,
On me have mercie for thy joyis five!
O rightfull rule! o bote of holineffe!
And lightfome line of pitie for to plain,
Originall of grace and all godeneſſe,
And cleneft conduct of vertue mofte foverain!
Mothir of mercie', our trouble to reſtrain,
Chambir and clofit cleneft of chaſtitie,
And namid herbrough of the deitie!
O clofit, gardin, voide of wedis wicke,
Criftallin welle, of clereneffe clere configned,
Fructified olive of foiles faire and thicke,
And redolent cedre moft dere worthy digned!
Remember on finnirs that to the be' affined
Or wickid fendis ther wrathe on 'hem wreche;
Lanterne of light thou art ther livis leche.
Paradife of plefaunce, gladſome to all gode,
O benigne braunchilet of the pine tre,
Vinarie' enver mailed, refreſhir of bode,
Licour ayen langour that palled maie not be,
Blisful blomie blofme, bidyng in bounte!
Thy mantell of mercie on our miſerie ſprede,
And er we' awaie wrappe us undir thy wede,
O rodie rofier, flouring without fpine,
Fountain filthleffe, as birill currant clere!
Sum drop of gracefull dewe to us propine;
Light without nebule fhinyng in thy ſphere,
Medicine to mifcheves, pucell without pere!
Flambe doun the full light of thin influence,
Remembring thy fervantes for thy magnificence.
Of all Chriftin protectrice and tutele,
Retourne of exiled put in the profcripcion,
To 'hem that erren in the' pathe of ther fequele,
To werie forwandrid tent and pavilion,
To faint and to freſhe the paufacion,
To unreftie bothe reft and remedie,
Fru&full to all tho that in her affie:
To 'hem that rennin thou art itinerarie,
O blisfull bravie to knightes of thy werre!
To werie werkinen fhe 'is diourne denarie,
Mede unto mariners that have failed ferre,
Laureate coroune ftremyng as a ſterre,
To 'hem putin palafire for thy fake
Tours of ther conqueft white as any lake.
O mirthe of martyrs! fwetir than ſitole,
Of confeffours alfo riche donatife,
Unto virgines eternall lauriole,
'Fore all woman havyng prerogatife,
Mothir and maide, bothe widowe and eke wife!
Of all the worlde is none but thou alone,
Now fith thou maie be fuccour to my mone,
Truftie turtle, truefaftiſt of all true,
Curteife columbe, replete of all mekeneffe,
O nightingale with thy notis newe!
O popinjaie! purid with all clenneffe,
O laveroke of love! fingyng with fwetneſſe,
Phoebus waityng till on thy breft he light,
Undir thy wing at domifdaie us dight.
O rubie! rubified in the paffion
Of thy fonne, us have emengis in minde,
Oftedfaft diametre of duracioun !
That fewe feris any time might thou finde.
For none to hym was foundin halfe fo kinde;
O hardie herte! o lovyng creäture!
What was 'it but love that made the fo endure?
Semely faphre, depe loupe, and blewe ewage!
Stable as the loupe ewage of pitie,
This is to faie, the freſhift of vifage,
Thou loveſt unchaungid 'hem that fervin the,
And if offence or varying in 'hem be
Thou art aie redie on ther wo to rue,
And 'hem recevift aye with herte full true.
O godelie gladdid when that Gabriel
With joy the grette, that maie not be nombrid,
Or halfe the bliffe who coud ywrite or tell
When the Holy Ghofte to the was obumbrid,
Wherthrough fendes were bittirly encombrid
O wemleffe maide! embelished in his birthe,
That man and angill therof haddin mirthe.
Lo here the blofme and the budde of glorie,
Of whiche the prophet fo long ſpake beforne!
Lo here the fame that was in memorie
Of Efaie, fo long or he was yborne!
Lo here of David the delicious corne!
Lo here the grounde of life in to bilde,
Becomyng man our ranſome for to yilde!
O glorious voile, vite inviolate!
O firie Titan! perfyng with thy bemes,
Whoſe vertuous brightnes was in breft vibrat,
That al the world embelifhed with the lemes,
Confervatrice of kinges, dukes, and relmes,
Of Jeffe his fede the fwete Sunamite,
Melure my mourning mine own Margarite!
O foverainift yfought out of Syon!
Cockle with golde-dewe from above berainid,
Dewe-bufhe unbrent, firèleffe fire fet on,
Flambing with fervence, not with hete painid,
Duryng daiûe that no wethir ſtainid,
Flece undefouled of gentiliſt Gidion,
And fruitfiyng fairiſt yerde of Aaron!
The mightie arche, the probatife piſcine,
Laughyng Aurora, and of pece olive,
Columpac and bafe, up beryng from abime,
Why n'ere I connyng here for to difcrive?
Chofin of Jofeph, whom he toke to wive,
Unknowyng hym childyng by miracle,
And of our manly figure the tabernacle!
I have none Englifhe convenient and digne,
Myne herte's hele lady! the with to honour,
Ivorie clene! therefore I woll refigne
Into thyne hande till that thou lift fuccour,
To helpe my makyng both floriſhe and flour,
Then fhould I fhewe in love how that I brende,
Infongis makyng thy name to commende ;
CERTAINE
577
BALADES, &c.
For if I coud before thyne excellence
ngin in love I wouldin what I fele,
And evit flandin, ladie', I in thy prefence,
To fhewe in opin how I love you wele,
And fith although your heart be made of ftele
In you withoutin any difcev'eraunce
2 Pay en vous toute ma fance.
Where:ght I love evir bettir befet
Then in this lilie likyng to beholde,
!
That lace of love, the bonde fo well thou knit,
bat I male fe the or myne bertè colde,
And or I paffe out of my dayis olde,
Tofore fyngyng evirmore uttirly,
Your eyin two woll fle me fodainly.
For love I langour, bliffed be foch fickneffe!
Eith it 'is for you, my heretely fufifaunce,
I can not ellis faie in my diftreffe,
to faire one hath myne hert in govirnaunce,
And aftir I begin on efperaunce,
With feble entune, though it thine hert perce,
Yet for thy fake this letter I rcherfe.
God wore on mufike I can 'not, but I geffe;
Alas why fo! that I might faie or fyng,
So love I you, my own foveraine malitreffe,
And evir fhall withoutin departyng,
Miriour of beautic, for you' out fhould I ring,
In remembraunce eke of your eyin clere,
Thus ferre from you my foverain ladie dere!
So wouldin God your love would me yflo,
Sith for your fake I fingin daie by daie;
O hertè! why ne nilt thou brcke a two,
Sith with my ladie dwellin 1 ne maie ?
Thus many a roundell, many a virèlaie,
In freſhe Englife, when I me leifir finde,
I doe recorde, on you to havin mynde.
Now, ladie mine! fith I you love and drede,
And you' unchaunged ever finde in o degre,
Whoſe grace ne maic flie fro your womanhede,
Difdainith not for to remembre' on me,
Myne herte bledith for I maie not you fe;
And fith ye wotte my menyng defirous
Pleures pour moy s'il vous plaift amorexx.
What marvaile is though I in pain ybe?
I am departid from you my fovèrnin;
Fortune alas! dont vient la deflenie,
That in no wife I can ne male attain
To le the beautie of your eyin twain,
Wherefore I faie, for trifteffe doeth me grame,
Tant me fait mal departir de ma dome.
Why n'ere my wiffing brought to foche efploit
That I might faie for joye of your prefence
Or amon cœur ce qui voulleit
Or amon cœur? the highest excellence
That er had wight, and fith mine-advertence
Is in you rewith on my painis fmerte,
I am ſo foro ywoundid to the herte.
To' live well merie two lovers were ifere,
So maie I faic withoutin any blame,
And if that any man to wilde were
I could hym techin for to be full tame,
1.et hym go love and fe where it be game,
For I am bridlid unto fobirneffe
For her that is of women chief princeffe.
But evir when thought my hert fhuld enbrace,
Then unto me it is beft remedie
Voz
VOL 1.
When I loke on your godely freſhè face,
So merie a mirrour coud I ner efpie,
And if I coud I would it magnife,
For nevir none ywas fo faire yfounde,
To reken 'hem all, and alfo Rofamounde.
And finally, with mouthe and will prefent;
Of double eye withoutin repentaunce,
Mine hert I yeve you, ladie', in this entent,
That je fhall thereof have the govirnaunce,
Taking my leve with hert'is obeifaunce,
(Salve Regina) fyngyng last of all
To be our helpe when that we to the call.
All our love is nought els but idleneffe,
Save your love alone, who might therto' attain ;
Who fo well have a name of gentilleffe
I counfaile hym in love that he not fain;
Thou (wete ladie! refute in every pain,
Whofe mercie mofte unto me availith,
To gie by grace when that Fortune failith.
Nought mais be told, withoutin any fable,
Your high renome, you womanly beaate,
Your govirnaunce, to all worfhip able,
Putteth every herte in efe in his degre;
O violet! o fowir defire!
Sithin I am for you fo amerous
Ejreignes moy de cœur joyeux.
With fervent hert my breft liath broft on fire,
l'ardant efpoer en mon cœur point eft mort,
D'avoir l'amour de celle que je defire,
I mene you fwete mofte plefaunt of porte,
Et je feay bien que ce n'eft pas mon tërt,
That for you fyng fo as I maie for mone,
For your departyng alone I live alone.
Though that I might I would none othir chefe,
In your fervice I would ben foundin fadde,
Therefore I love no labour that ye lefe,
When that in longyng forift ye be ſtadde;
Loke up you loviris and be right gladde,
Now ayenift Saint Valentin'is daie,
For I have chefe that ner forfake I maie.
Falade de bon confail.
Is it befall that God the lift vifite
With any tourment or adverâte
Thanke firfte the Lorde, and tho thy felfe to quite
Upon fuffèraunce and humilite
Founde thou thy quaril, what er that it be,
Make thy defence, and thou fhalt have no loffe,
The remembraunce of Chrift and of his eroffe.
SOMTYME the world fo ftedfaft was and ftable,
That mannes's worde was an obligacioun,
And now it is fo falfe and difcevable,
That worde and dede, as in conclufioun,
Is nothing like, for tourned is up ſo dous
All the worlde, thorough mede and fikilneffe,
That all is lofte for lacke of ftedfaftneffe,
What maketh the worlde to be fo variable
But lift that men have in difcenfion?
For emong us a man is holde unable
But if he can by fome collufion
!
578
BALADES, &c.
CERTAINE
*
Doe his neighbour wrong an oppreffion :
What caufith this but wilful wretchidneffe?
That all is lofte for lacke of stedfastneffe.
Trouthe is put doune, refon is holde fable,
Vertue hath now no dominaci n,
Fitie 'is exiled, no man is merciable,
Through covetife is blente difcrecion;
The worlde hath made a permutacion
Fro right to wrong, fro trouthe to fikilneffe,
That all is lofte for lack of ftedfaftneffe.
L'envoye.
;
Prince, aye defire to be honourable,
Cherishe thy folke, and hate extorcion
Suffre nothyng that maie be reprovable
To thine eſtate doen in thy region;
Shewe forthe the yerde of caftigacion;
Dredc Gol, do law, love treuth and worthines,
And wedde thy folke ayen to ftedfafncffe.
Balade of the village without paintyng.
Plaintife to Fortune.
THIS wretched world'is tranfmutacion,
As wele and wo, nowe pore and now honour,
Without ordir or due difcrecion,
Govirnid is by fortun'is errour,
But nathèleffe the lacke of her favour
Ne maie not doe me fyng though that I die,
J'ay tout perdu mon temps et mon labeur,
For finally fortune I doe defic.
Yet is me left the fight of my refoun
To knowin frende fro foe in thy mirrour,
So moche hath yet thy tourning up and doun
Itaughtin me to knowin in an hour,
But truly no force of thy reddour
To hym that ovir hymfelf hath maiſtrie;
My fuffifaunce yfhal be my fuccour,
For finally fortune I do defie.
O Socrates! thou ftedfaft champion,
She ne might nevir be thy turmentour,
Thou nevir dreddift her oppreffion,
Ne in her chere foundin thou no favour;
Thou knewe wele the difceipt of her colour,
And that her moſte worſhip is for to lie ;.
I knowe her eke a falfe diffimulour,
For finally fortune I do defie.
The anfwere of Fortune.
No man is wretchid but hynife If it wene;
He that yhath hymfelf hath fuffilaunce,
Why faieft thou then I am to the fo kene
That halt thy felf out of my govirnaunce?
Saie thus, graunt mercie of thin habundaunce,
That thou haft lent or this, thou fhalt not ftrive;
What wolt thou yet how I the, woll avaunce?
And eke thou hast thy bee frende alive.
I have the taught divifion betwene
Frende of effectc and frende of countinaunce,
The nedith not the galle of an hine,
That curith eyin derke for ther penaunce,
Now feeft thou clere that wer in ignoraunce;
Yet holt thine anker, and thou maicft arive
There Bountie bereth the key of my fubitaunce,
And cke thou hate thy beftè frende alive,
How many have I refufed to fuftene
Sith I have the foftrid in thy pleſaunce!
Wolt thou then make a ftatute on thy quene,
That I fhall be aie at thine ordinaunce?
Thou born art in my reign of variaunce;
About the whele with othir muft thou drive;
My lore is bet, then wicke is thy grevaunce,
And cke thou hast thy beftè frende alive.
The an were to Fortune.
Thy lore I danipne, it is adverſitie;
My frend maift thou not revin, blind goddeſſe :
That I thy frendis knowe I thanke it the;
Take 'hem again, let 'hem go lie a preffe;
The nigardis in kepyng ther richeſſe
Pronoftike is thou wolt ther toure affaile;
Wicke appetite cometh aie before fickeneffe;
In generall this rule ne maie not faile.
Fortune.
Thou pincheft at my mutabilitie,
For I the lent a droppe of my richeffe,
And now me likith to withdrawin me
Why shouldift thou my roialte oppreffe?
The fe maie ebbe and flowin more and leffe,
The welkin hath might to fhine, rain, and haile,
Right fo must I kithin my brotilneffe;
In generall this rule ne maie not faile.
The Plaintiffe.
Lo! the' execucion of thy majestie
That all purveighith of his rightwifeneffe,
That fame thyng Fortune yclepin ye,
Ye blinde beftis, full of leudenefs!
The hevin hath propirtie of fikirneſs,
This worlde hath evir refleffe travaile,
The laſt daie is the ende of myne entreffe;
In generall this rule ne maie not faile.
Th'envoye of Fortune.
Princes, I praie you of your gentilneffe,
Let not this man and me thus crie and plain,
And I fhall quitin you this buſineſſe;
And if ye lifte releve hym of his pain
Praie ye his best frende of his nobleneffe
That to fome bettir ftate he maie attain.
L'envoye.
To brokin ben the ftatutes hie in heven
That create were eternally t' endure,
Sith that I fe the bright goddis ſeven
Mowe wepe and waile and paflion endure,
As male in yerth a mortall creäture;
Alas fro whenis maie this thing procede,
Of which crrour I die almoîte for drede?
By words eterne whilom was it yfhape
That fro the fifth circle in no manere
Ne might of teris nothing doune efcape,
But now fo wepith Venus in her fphere
That with her teris fhe woll drench us here:
Alas, Scogan' this is for thine offence;
Thou cauff this deluge of peftilence.
Halt thou not faied in blafpheme of the goddis,
Through pride or thorough thy gret rekilnes,
Soche thinges as in the law of love forbode is,
That for thy die fawe not thy diftreffe
Therefore thou yave her up at Mighelmeffe?
CERTAINE
579
BALADES, &c.
Alas, Scogan! of oldè folke ne yong
Was nevir erft Scogan blamed for his tong.
Thou drewe in fcorne Cupide eke to recorde
Of thilke rebell worde that thou haft ſpoken,
For whiche he woll no lengir be thy lorde;
And, Scogan, though his bowe be not ybroken
He woll not with his arowes be iwroken
On thee ne me, ne none of our figure;
We ſhall of hym have neither hurte ne cure.
Now certis, frende, I drede of thine unlappe,
Left for thy gilte the wreche of love procede
On all 'hem that ben hore and round of fhap,
That be fo likely folkè for to fpede,
Then we ſhall of our labour have our mede;
But well I wot thou wolt anfwere and faie,
Lo! oldè Grifill lift to renne and plaie.
Naie, Scogan, faie not fo, for I me' excufe,
God helpe me ſo, in no rime doutiles,
Ne thinke I nevir of flepe wake my mufe,
That ruftith in my fheth ftill and in pefe;
While I was yong I put her forthe in preſe,
But al fhall paffin that men profe or rime,
That every man his tourne as for his tyme.
Scogan, thou knelift at the ftrem'is hedde
Of grace, of honour, and of worthineffe,
In the ende of whiche I am dull as dedde,
Forgotten in folitarie wildirneffe ;
Yet, Scogan, thinke on Tullius kindeneffe,
Mynd thy frendè there it maie fructifie;
Farwell, and loke thou ner eft love defie.
Go forthe, kyng, and rule the by fapience;
Biſhoppe, be able to minifter doctrine;
Lorde, to true counfaile yeve thou audience;
Womanhode, to chaſtitie er encline;
Knight, let thy dedis worſhip determine;
Be rightous, judge, in favyng of thy name;
Rich, do almofe, left thou lefe bliffe with fhame;
Peple, obei your kyng and eke the lawe;
Age, be rulid by gode religion;
True fervaunt, be dredfull, kepe the' under awe;
And thou, povir, fie on prefumcion;
Inobedience to youth is uttir deſtruccion:
Remember you how God hath fet you, lo!
And doe your parte as ye be ordained to.
Chaucer to bis emptie purfs.
To you my purſe, and to none othir wight,
Complain 1, for ye be my ladie dere;
I am forie now that ye be fo light,
For certis ye now make me hevie chere ;
Me were as lefe be laide upon a bere,
For whiche unto your mercy thus I crie,
Be hevy againe, or els mote I die.
Now vouchfafin this day or it be night
That I of you the blisful fowne may here,
Or fe your colour I ke the fonnè bright,
That of yelowneffe ne had nevir pere;
Ye be my life, ye be my hert'is ftere;
Quene of comfort and of gode companye,
Be hevy againe, or els mote I die.
Nowe purſe, that art to me my liv'is light,
And fayvour, as downe in this worlde here,
Oute of this townè helpe me by your might,
Sithin that you wol not be my trefoure,
For I am have as nighe as any frere,
But I prayin unto your curtifye
Be hevy againe, or els mote I die.
Chaucer unto the Kings.
O Conquerour of Brut'is Albion !
Whiche that by lyne and fre eleccion
Ben very kinge, this unto you I fende,
And ye whiche that may al harmis amende
Have minde upon my fupplication.
A balade made by Chaucer, teching what is gentilnes,
who is worthy to be caled gentil.
THE firftè ſtocke, father of gentilnes,
What man defirith gentill for to be,
Muft folowe' his trace, and all his wittis dres
Vertue to love and vicis for to fie,
For unto vertue longith dignite,
And not the revers, fafly dare I dere,
Al were he mitir, crowne, or diademe.
This firftè ſtocke was full of rightwifnes,
Trewe of his worde, fobir, pitous, and fre,
Clene of his gofte, and lovid befineffe,
Against the vice of flouth in honefte,
And but his eyrė love vertue as did he
He is not gentyl though he riche feme,
Al were he mitir, crowne.or diademe.
Vicè may wel be eyre to olde Richeffe,
But ther may no man, as men may well fe,
Byquethe his eire his vertuous nobleffe,
That is appropried unto no degre
But to the first fathir in majefte,
That makith his eyre him that can him queme,
Al were he mitir, crowne, or diademe.
A proverbe agaynft covetife and negligence,
WHAT fhal thes clothes thus manifolde
Lo, this hote fomirs ɖaye!
Aftir grete hetè comith colde;
No man cafle his pilche awaye.
Of al this world the large compaffe
Wil not in myne armes tweine,
Who fo m kil wol enbrace
Lite therof fhall diſtreine.
A balade whiche Chaucer made against women
unconflaunt.
MADAME, ye have for your newfangleneffe
Many a fervaunt put out of your grace;
I take my leve of your unftedfaftneffe,
For well I wote while ye to live have ſpace
Ye can not love full halfe yere in a place;
Ooij
$80
CERTAINE BALADES, &c.
To newe thinges your lufte is evere kene;
In ſtede of blew thus may ye were al grene.
Ryght as a mirour that nothing may' enpreffe
But lightly as it cometh ſo mote it paſſe,
So fareth your love, your workis bereth witnes;
her is no faithè may youre herte enbrace,
But as a wedircock, that turneth his face
With every winde, ye fare, and that is fene;
In fted of blew thus may ye were al grene.
Ye might be frined for your brotilneſſe
Better than Dalila, Creffeide, or Candace,
For evir in chaunging ftondeth your fikirneffe,
That tache may no wight from your heart arace;
If ye lofe one ye can wel tweine purchace,
Al light for fomar, ye' wet wel what I mene;
In ſtede of blewe thus may ye were al grene.
Here foloweth a balade rubiche Chaucer made in the praiſe
or rather difpreife of women for ther doublenes.
THIS world is full of variaunce
In everye thinge, who takith hede,
That faithe and trufte, and all conftaunce,
Exilid ben, this is no drede,
And fave only in womanhed
I can yfe no fikirnes;
But for all that yet, as I rede,
Beware alwaye of doublenes.
Al fo that the freſhe fomir floures,
The white and rede, the blewe and grene,
Ben fodenly with wintir fhours
as
Made feinte and fade, withoutin wene,
That truft is none,
ye may fene,
In no thing, nor no fledfaftnes,
Except in women, thus I mene;
Yet aye beware of doublenes.
The crokid mone, this is no tale,
Some while ifhene and bright of hewe,
And aftir that ful derke and pale,
And every monith chaungith newe,
That who the veray fothè knew
Al thinge is bilt on brotlenes,
Save that women alwaye be trewe;
Yet aye beware of doublenes.
The lufty freflè fommirs daye,
And Phoebus with his bemis clere,
Towardis night they drawe awaye,
And non lengir lift to appere,
That in this prefente life now here
Nothinge abieth in his fairenes,
Save women aye be found intere,
And devoid of alle doublenes.
The fe eke with his flernè wawes
Fche daye yowith new againe,
And by the concours of his lawes
The ebbe yflowith in certeine;
Aftir grete drought there cometh a raine;
That farewel here al ſtabilnes,
Save that women be whole and pleine ;
Yet aye beware of doubleneſs.
Fortune's whele goith round aboute
A thoufand timis daye and nighte,
Whofe cours ftandith evir in doute
For to tranſmew, fhe is ſo lighte,
For whiche advertith in your fight
'Th' untruft of worldcly fikilnes,
Save women, whiche of kindely right
Ne hath no teche of doublenes.
What man ymay the wind reftreine,
Or holdin a ſnake by the taile?
Who may a flipper ele conftreine
'That it will voide withoutin faile?
Or who can drivin fo a naile
To make fuere newfongilnes,
Save women, that can gie ther faile
To row ther bote with doubleneſs?
At every haven they can arive
Wher as they wote is gode paffage;
Of innocence they can not ftrive
With wawis, nor no rockis rage;
So happy is ther lodemanage
With nedle' and flone ther cours to dreffe
That Salomon was not fo fage
To find in them no doublenes:
Therefore who fo doth them accuſe
Of any double entencion,
To ſpekè rowne, othir to muſe,
To pinch at ther condicion,
All is but falfe collufion,
I dare right wel the fothe expreffe,
They have no bettir protection,
But fhroud them undir doublenes.
So wel fortunid is ther chaunce,
The dice to turnin uppe fo doune,
With fife and fincke they can avaunce,
And than by revolucioun
They fet a fel conclufioun
Of lombis, as in fothefaftnes,
Though clerkis makin mencioun
Ther kinde is fret with doublenes.
Sampfon yhad experience
That women were ful trew ifound
Whan Dalila of innocence
With fheris gan his here to round;
To fpeke alfo of Roſamounde,
And Cleopatri's feithfulnes,
The ftories plainly wil confounde
Men that apeche ther doublenes.
Single thinge ne is not ypraifed,
Nor of olde is of no renoun,
In balaunce whan they be ypeiſed,
For lacke of waighte they be bore doune,
And for this caufe of jufte refoun
Thefe women al of rightwifenes
Of choice and fre electioun
Moft love efchaunge and doublenes.
L'envoye.
Ove women! whiche ben enclined
By influence of your nature
To ben as pure as golde yfined,
And in your trouth for to endure,
Armith your felfe in ftrong armure,
Left men affaile your fikirnes,
Set on your breſt, your ſelf to' affure,
A mightie fhelde of doublenes.
CERTAIN BALADE S, &c.
581
This worke folowinge was compiled by Chaucer, and is
called the Craft of Lovers.
MORAL is a fymylytude, who lift ther balades fewe,
The Craft of Lovers curious arguments,
For fom bin falſe and ſom ben foundin trewe,
And fom bin double of entendements;
Thus lovirs with ther moral documents
And elo'quent langage can examplifye
The Craft of Love what it doth fignifie.
Who lift unto this balades have infpeccion
Thinke that Lov'is lordſhipis excellente
Is remedy for difefe and correccion
To woful herte and body impotente,
Suppoſe the maker that he be negligente
In his compilinge, holde him excufable,
Becauſe his fpi'rites be fory' and lamentable.
Soverain lady, furmounting your nobles,
O' intenuate jenipre' and daifi delicious!
My truft, mine helth, my cordial foundreffe,
O medicine fanatife to fores lango'rous,
Comfortable creture of lovirs amo'rous!
O'excellente herbir of lovelie countinaunce!
Regiftir my love in your remembraunce.
Certis, Sir, your ypeinted eloquence,
So gaye, fo freſhe, and eke fo talcatife,
It doth tranfcende the wit of Dame Prudence
For to declare your thought or to difcrive,
So gleriouſly glad langage ye contrive
Of your confcite, your thought, and your entente,
1 wil be ware, for drede or I be fhent.
O rubi'cunde rofe, and white as the lyly,
Clari'fied chriſtal of worldly portraiture!
O courfin figure, refplendent with glory,
Geme of beaute'! o carbouncle thining pure!
Your fairnes excedeth the craft of Nature,
Moft womanli your loveli countinaunce,
Regiſtir my love in your remembraunce.
What availeth, Sir, your proclamacion
Of curious talking, not touching fadnes?
It is but winde, flatering and adulacion,
Imefurable thought of worldly wildnes,
Whiche is chief cauſe of goftly feblenes;
Your wil, your thought, your double entendement,
I wil beware of drede or I be fhent.
My witte, my thought, and myne entencion,
Is for to pleſe you, my lady foveraine,
And for your love throw many a region
I would be' exiled, fo ye wold not difdein
To have pity on me when I compleine,
In wele and wo to fuffre perturbaunce,
So that ye wol have me in remembraunce.
What is your wil plainly ye doe expreffe
That maketh this curicus fupplicacion ;
Seyon, Sir, on hertèly tendirneffe,
Beth well adviſed of veine delectacion,
At beginning think on the terminacion ;
Paffe not your boundes, be not to negligente,
And er beware for dred or ye be fhente.
Your behaving, beaute, and countinaunce,
Maketh me encline to do you revèrence,
Your lovely loking, glorious govirnaunce,
Qercometh my fpirites, my wit, and prudence,
Some drop of grace of your magnificence
Unto your fervaunt ye fhewe attendaunce.
And regiſter my love in your remembraunce.
O comberous thought of manne's fragilite !
O fervente wil of luftis furious!
O cruel corage caufinge adverſite!
Of women corrupcion, and contrariouſe,
Remembir man that chaunge is perilous,
To breke the' virginite of virgines innocente,
Wherfore beware mankinde or thou be fhent.
My peine is prevy' impoffible to' deferne,
My lamentabel thoughtes by calling mourninge,
O general juge Jefu! fitting fuperne,
Graciously converte the love of my fwete thing;
O' amiable lady, gracious and benigne !
I put me wholy in your govirnaunce,
Exile me not out of your remembraunce,
Me femeth by langage ye be fome poteftate,
Or els fom curious glofir difcevable;
What is your name mekely I make regrate,
Or of what fcience or craft commendable?
I'm a lady' excellente and honorable,
He must be gay that ſhould be to 'min entente,
Wherfore I wil be ware or I be fhent.
Lorde God! this is a fharpe examinacion
Of her that is moſt in my memorie,
Unto you lady' I make certification,
My name' is Trew Love, of carnal deûdery,
Of manne's copulacion the verye exemplary,
Which am one of your fervauntes of plefaunce,
I muſt be chefe callid to remembraunce.
I have fought true love of yeres gret proces,
Yet fond I nevir love but for a fefon;
Some men be diverſe, know no gentilnes,
And ſome lackin both wiſdome and refon ;
In fom men is truft, in fom men is trefon,
Wherfore I wil conclude by avyfemente,
And er beware for drede that I be fhente.
The retour Tullius, gay of eloquence,
And Ovide, that fheweth Craft of Love expre³,
With habundaunce of Salomon's prudence,
And pulcritude of Abfalon's faireneffe,
And I wer poffefs'd with Job's grete richeffe,
Manly' as Sampfone my perfone to avaunce,
Yet fhuld I ſubmit me' in your remembraunce.
Now Sir, yf that it pleſe your nobilneſſe
To gyve advertence to my queſtion,
What thing is the plefure of fretneffe,
And moft bittir in final fucceffion ?
Or what thing gevith man occation
In tender age to be concupifcent?
Refolve this queſtion or drede, Sir, ye' be fhent.
My foveraigne lady', Ovide in his writinge
Saith defire of worldly concupifcence
As for a time is fwete in his worchinge,
And in his ende he caufith grete offence;
Notwithstandinge, my lady Dame Prudence,
Grene flowring age and manly countinaunce
Caufith ladies to have' it in remembraunce,
Your godely anſwir, ſo notable' in ſubſtaunce,
Wold caufe the hert of womanhede converte
Unto delyte of natural plefaunce;
But of one thing I wolde faine be experte,
Why menne's langage wol procure and tranf
O o iij
verte
382
BALADES, &c.
CERTAINE
The wil of women and virgines innocente,
Wherfore I am aferd or I be fhente.
Let nevir the love of true love be loſed,
My foveraine lady, in no manir wife;
In your confidence my wordes I have cloſed,
My' amyable love to you I doe promife;
So that ye knit the knot of exercyfe
Both locke and key ye have in govirnaunce,
Emprint my love in your remembèraunce.
Of very trust and I were certified,
The plain entencion of your herte's cordial,
Me femeth in bliffe than were I glorified,
Unto your pleſure I would be' at your call
But er I fere of chauncis cafual,
Of fraude, difceipte, and langage infolent,
Then were I fure maidinhed fhould be fhent.
Ther was ner trefour' of terreftial richeſſe,
Nor precious ſtones rekened innumerabell,
To be of compariſon to your high godenes,
Above al cretures to' me most amiable;
Truſt not the contrary', I was ner difcevabell;
Kepe wel true love, forge no diffembelaunce,
And graciouſly take me to' your remembraunce.
Me femeth by feiture of manly properte
Ye fhuld be trufty' and trewe of comprimis,
I finde in you no falfe duplicite,
Wherfore, True Love, ye have my hert I wis
And ermore ſhal endure, ſo have I blis,
The fede'rafy made with gode aviſement,
God graunt grace that nothir of us be fhent!
Whan Phoebus frefhe wes in his chare fplen-
dente,
In the moneth of Maye, erly in a morninge,
I herd two lovirs profir this argu'mente,
In the yere of our Lorde a M. by rekening,
CCCXL. and VII. yere folowing,
O potent princeffe! conferve true lovirs al,
Graunt them thy region and bliſſe celeflial.
A balade.
Or ther nature they gretly them delite,
With holy face yfeinid for the nones,
In faintwarie ther frendis to vifite,
More for reliquis than for faiutis bones,
Though they be clofid undir precious ftones,
To gete them pardon, lyke ther olde ufages,
Tok iffe no fhrines but lufty quike images.
Whan maidens ar wedded and houthold have
take
All ther humility' is exiled awaye,
And the cruil hertes beginnith to awake,
'They do' al the befy cure they can or maye
To vex ther houfholdes-maiftirs, foth to faye,
Wherfore, ye yong men, I rede you forthy
Beware alwaye, The blinde eteth many a flye.
Of this matir I dare make no relation,
In defaute of flepe my fpirites wex feinte,
In my ftudie l'have had long habitacion,
My body' and goft are grevously attaint,
And therfore I make no lengir complaint;
But whethir that the blind etc flefh or fifh
I pray God kepe the fly out of my difhe
Now' I make an endc, and laie me dounc to
reſt,
For I knowe by experience veramentę
If maidinis and wivis knewe and wiſt
Who made the mattir he fhould fone be fhent,
Wherefore I praie that God omnipotente
Hym fave and kepin bothè night and daie.
Writtin in the luftie fefon of Maie.
The X. Commaurdements of Love.
CERTIS ferre extendith yet my refon
This matir as it fhould be to difcrive,
But I truſte your grace will in this fefon
Confidir howe with conyng that I ftrive,
For in his favour coud I ner arrive,
Elo'quence this balade hath in grete difpite,
The makir lackith manir to endite.
Of Love's commaundèmentes x. is the nomber,
As aftirward fall rudely be reherfed,
And lovirs, in no wife departe aſunder
Where as thei he obfervid and redreffed,
Daungir and unkindnes yben oppreſſed,
And he that is commaunaid this to make
Is your owne, all othir for to forfake.
Faiths.
Faithe is the first and principally to tell,
And verie love requirith foche credence,
That eche beleve othir true as the gofpel,
Without adulacion or flatteryng audience,
In true menyng and truftie confidence;
Paint not your connyng with colour ne fable,
For then your love muft nedis be unſtable.
Entencion.
In the feconde to trete of entencion,
Your lovir to pleſe doe your bufie cure,
For as myn author Romance maketh mencion,
Without entent your love mai not endure,
As women will thereof, I am right fure,
Endevour with ther herte, will, and thought,
To pleſe hym onely that ther love hath fought,
Difcrecion.
In your delyng evir ybe difcrete,
Set not your love there as it fhall be lofed,
Advertiſe in your minde whether he be mete,
That unto hym your herte maie be difclofed,
And aftir as you finde hym then diſpoſed
Poinct by difcrefion your hour, time, and place,
Conveniently metyng with arines to' embrace.
Pacience.
Of theſe commaundementes the iiii. is pacience:
Though by' irous corage your lovir be meved,
With foft wordis and humble obedience
His wrathe maie fone be fwagid and releved,
And thus his love obteinid and acheved
Will in you rote with gretir diligence,
Bicaule of your meke womanly pacience,
Secretree.
Secretlie behave you in your werkis,
In fhewing countenance or mevyng your eye,
Though foche behavior to fome folk be derke,
CERTAINE BALADES, &c.
583
He that hath lovid will it fone afpie,
Thus you your felf your counfaill maie defcrie;
Make privy to your delyng few' as ye maie,
For iii. may kepe a counſel if twain be araie.
Prudence.
Let prudence governe aye your bridil reine;
Set not your love in fo fervent a wife
But that in godely haft ye may refreine,
If that your lovirs lift you to difpife:
Romaunce min auctour wold you this advife,
To flacke your love, for if ye doe not fo
That wanton lift will tourne you into wo.
Perfeveraunce.
Stabliſhe your love in fo ftedfaſt a wife,
If that ye thinke your lovir will be true,
As entirely as ere you can devife,
Love hym onely and refufe allè newe,
Then ſhall not your worship ychaunge his hew,
For certis, maiftris, then is he to blame
But if that he will quite you with the fame.
Pi..
Be piteous to hym, as womanhod requireth,
That for your love endurith painis fmerte,
Whor fo forely your plefaunt leke enfireth,
That printid is your beautie in his herte,
And woundid lyith without knife or darte;
There let your pitie fpred without reftreinte,
For lacke of it let not your fervaunt feint.
Meſure.
Take mefure in your talkyng, be n'ot outrage
For this reherfith Romance de la Rofe,
A man endued with plenteous langage
Oft tymis is denyid his purpoſe ;
Take mefure in langage, wifedome ingrofe,
For mefure, as right well proved is by refon,
Thyngis unfefo'nable ſettith in fefon.
Mercic.
Soche daungir exile hym all uttirly,
Ovir all mercie to' occupie his place,
To piteous complaintis your eres applie,
And receve your true fervaunte into grace;
To him that boundin is in Lov'is lace
Shewe favour, ladie', and be not merciles,
Left ye be called a common murdires.
L'envoye.
When ye unto this balade have infpeccion
In my makyng holde me excufable,
It is fubmittid unto your correccion;
Confidir that my connyng is difable
To write to you the figure uniable,
All devoide of connyng and experience,
Maner of indityng, refon, and eloquence.
Truft it well the makir is all your owne,
You to obcie while his life maie endure,
To doe you ſervice as a man unknowne,
No guerdone defiryng of yerthly trefure,
But if it might accorde with your pleſure
For his true fervice hym for to avaunce,
And call hym into your rememberance.
A
The 1X. Ladies Wortbie
Quene Sinope.
PROFULGENT in precioufnefs, O Sinope the Quene!
Of all feminine berynge the fceptir and regalie,
Subduyng the large countrie of Armenie', as it
was fene,
For maugre ther mightis thou ybrought them for
to applie,
Thin honour to encrefin and thy power to mag-
nific;
O most renoumed Hercules! with al thy pom-
prus bofte
This princes toke the prifonir and put to fighte
thine hoft.
Ladie Hippolyte.
Yet Hercules weaed red for fhame when I
pake of Hippolyt,
Chief patrones and captain of the peple of Sinope,
Which with her amorous chere and with coragi-
ous might
She fmote the unto the ground for all thy cruiltie,
Wherfore the dukefhip of Diamedes and dignitie
Unto her gretè laudè and glorie perpetuall
Attributid by all is with triumphè laureall.
Lady Deipbile.
The moſt noble triumphè of this ladie Deiphile,
In releve and fuccor of the gret Duke of Athenis,
She challifid and brought into perpetual exile
The aureat citizeinis of the mightie Thebis,
The ſtrongè brafin pilliris there haddin no reles,
But the with her fiftir Agrifè them did dounè cait,
And with furious fire cite ybrent at laſt.
Lady Touca.
O pulchrier fole in beautie and full ylucident,
Of all feminine creturis the moflè formous four!
In Italy reigning with great chevalry right fervent,
Chaiflifed the Romainis as maiflris and conquè-
rour,
O lady Teuca! mochil was thy glorie and honour,
Yet mochil more was to commende thy grete
benignite
In thy perfite living and virginall chaſtitic.
Quene Penthefilea.
O ye Trojains for this noble Quene Penthefile
Sorewe her mortalitie with dolorous compaffion,
Her love was towardis you fo pregnante and fer-
tile,
Which that againift the proude Grckis made de-
fenfion,
With her victorious hand was al her affeccion
To lahe the Grekis to ground, and with ther
[Troie.
To revengin the coward deth of noble' Hector of
hert 'is joie
Queen Thamyris.
O thou moft rigorous Quene Thamyris invin-
cible!
[ing,
Upon the ſtrong and hideous peple of citees rein-
Whiche by thy grete powir and by wittis fenfible
O o iiij
#
!
584
CERTAINE BALADES, &c.
Ytokift in battaile captive Cyrus, the grete King
Of Perfia and of Media, his hed in blode lying;
Thou baddift him to drinkin of the blode he had
thurſtid,
And xxii. M. of his hofte there were diftrefflid.
Ladie Lampedo.
The famous loude trumpe ymade of gold yfor-
gid fo bright
Hath blowin fo up the fame and glory environ
Of this lady Lampedo, with her fiftir Mafifit,
That al the land of Feminie, Europe, and Epheſon,
Be yeldin and applied lowly to her ſubjeccion;
Many an high toure fhe raifid, and ybilt touris
long,
Perpetuelly to laſtin, with huge wallis ftrong.
Quene Seriramis.
Lo here Semiramis, the Quene of grete Babilon,
The mofte generous gem and the floure of loveily
favor,
[trion
My truthe fo plain
Is take in vain,
And grete difdain
Yet I full faine
Would me complaine
Me to ablaine
But in fubftaunce
None allegeaunce
Of my grevaunce
Right fo my chaunce
With difplefaunce
Doeth me avaunce;
in remembrance;
From this penaunce;
Can I not findę:
And thus an eude.
A ballade.
IN Feverere, when that it was full colde,
With chaungable' elementes and windes mani-
folde,
Whofe excellent powir from Mede unto Septen-Frofte, inowe, haile, raine, hath dominacion,
Floriſhed in her regally as a mightie conqueror,
Subdued al Barbary, and Zoraft the King of honor,
She flue Ethiop, and conquirid Armenie and Inde,
In which non entrid but Alexander and fhe as I
finde.
Ladie Menalippe.
Alſo the ladie Menalippe, thy fifter fo dere,
Whoſe martial powir there was no man that could
withfland,
For thorough the wide worldè there was not
yfound her pere,
The famous Duke of Athenis, Thefcus, he had
in hande,
And the forely chaftifid him and conquirid his
lande;
The proud Crekis mightilie alfo fhe did affaile,
And ovircame and vanquithid them bravely in
bataile.
ALONE walkyng,
In thought plainyng,
And fore fighyng,
All defolate,
Mc remembryng
Of my livyng,
Both erly and late,
My death wifhyng
Infortunate
Is to my fate,
Out of mefure
That wote ye what?
My life I hate.
Thus defperate
Doe I endure.
In foche pore cftate
Is hard certain.
Of othir cure
Am I not fure.
Thus to to endure
Suche is my ure
*
you colure;
What creature
Maic have more pain?
Whiche hath of ground, flour, herbe, jurrifdicciou
For to difpofe aftir their correccion,
And yet Aprilis with his plefaunt fhoures
Diffolveth the fow and bringith forthe his
floures,
Of whofe invencion lovirs maie be glade,
For thei bring in the kalendis of Maie,
And thei with countinuance demure, meke, and
fud,
Owe to worship the luftie floures alwaie,
And in feciall one called fe of the dai,
The dailie, a flowir white and rede,
And in French callid La bel Margarete,
O commendable floure, and mofte in minde!
O floure and gracious of excellence !
O amiable Marga'rite! of natife kind,
To whom I mult refort with diligence,
With hert, wil, thought, moft lowly obedience,
I to be your fervaunt, ye my regent,
For life ne deth nevir for to repent.
Of this proceffe now forth wil! I procede,
Whiche happith unto me with grete difdain,
As for the time thereof 1 take left hede,
For unto me was brought the forè paine,
Therfore my caufe was the more to complaine,
Yet unto me my grevaunce was the leffe
That I was lo nigh my ladie' and maißtreffe.
There where he was prefent in this fame
place,
mę,
I having in herte grete adverſite,
Except onely the fortune and gode grace
Of her whofe I am, the whiche releved
And my grete dures unlafid hath the,
And brought me out of the fearful grevaunce,
If it were her efe it were to me plefaunce.
As for the wo whiche that I did endure
It was to me a veric plefaunt pain,
Seyng it was for that faire creature
Whiche is my ladie and my foverain,
In whofe prefence I would be paſſyng fain,
So that I wift it werin her plefuse,
For the is from all diftaunce my proteâour.
I
3
CERTAINE BALADES, &c.
535
Though unto me dreadfull ywere the chaunce,
No maner of gentilnes oweth me to blame,
For I' had levir fuffre' of deth the penaunce
Than the fhould for me' have difhonor or fhame,
Or in any wife lofin her gode name;
So wifely God for his endleffe mercie
Graunt every lovir joy of his lady!
A ballade.
O Merciful and o merciable
Kyng of kyngis, and fathir of pite,
Whofe might and mercie is incomperable!
O prince eterne, o mightie Lorde! faie we,
To whom mercie is given of propirtie,
On thy fervaunt that lieth in prifon bounde
Have thou mercie or that his hertè wounde.
And that thou wilt graunt to him thy prifoner
Fre libertie, and lofe hym out of pain,
All his defires, and all his hevie chere
To all gladneffe thei were reftored again,
Thy high vengeance why fhould thou not re-
frain,
And fhewe mercie, fith he is penitent?
Now helpe hym Lorde, and let him not be fhente
But fith it' is fo there is a treſpas done,
Unto Mercie let yelde the treipaffour,
It is her office to redreffe it fone,
For trefpaffe to Mercie is a mirrour,
And like as the fwete hath the price by foure,
So by Trefpaffe Mercie hath all her might,
Without Trefpaffe Mercie hath lacke of light.
What ſhould phiſike doe but if fikenes were?
What nedith falve but if there were a fore?
What nedith drink wher thirft hath no power ?
What ſhould Mercie do but Trefpas go' afore?
But Trefpas Mercie woll be litil ftore,
Without Trespas ner execufion
Maie Mercie have ne chief perfeccion.
The cauſe at this time of my writyng,
And touchyng Mercie, to whom I make mone,
Is for fere left my fovereigne and fwetyng,
I menin her that lovelyir is none,
With me' is difplefed for caufis more than one;
What caufis thei be that knoweth God and the,
But fo do n'ot I; alas, it forthinketh me!
What fe fhe' in me, what defaute or offence?
What have I doe that fhe on me difdaine?
How might I doe come into her prefence,
To tell my complaint, whereof I were faine?
I drede to loke, to fpeke, or to complaine,
To her that hath my herte evèry dele;
So help me God I would al thing wer wele:
For in this cafe came I never or now
In Lov'is daunce fo ferre in the trace,
For with myne efe efcapin I ne mow
Out of this daungir, except her gode grace,
For though my countenaunce be mery' in her
face,
As femith to her by worde or by chere,
Yet her gode grace fettith myne hertè nere.
And if my loveraine have any marvaile
Why I to her now and afore ywrote,
She maie well think it is no grete travaile
3
To him that is in love brought fo hote;
It is a fimple tre that fallteh with one ſtroke ;
That mene I, though that my foveraine to forn
Me hath denied yet grace may come to morn.
Maiftris, for the gode will I have you ought,
And evir fhall as long as life durith,
Pitie your fervant, kepe him in your thought,
Give' him fom comfort or medi'cia, and curith
His ague, that encrefith, that renuith:
So grievous ben his paines and fighis fore
That without mercy his dais be forlore.
Go, litil bill, go forth, and hie the faſt,
Recommende me', and excufe me as you can,
For very feble am I at the laft,
My pen is woren, my hew is pale and wan,
My eyen ben fonke, disfigured like no man,
Till Deth his dart that caufith for to ſmert
My corps have confumed, then farewel fwet hert.
Doughtre' of Phoebus in vertuous apparence,
My love elect in my remembèraunce,
My carefull herte diftrained cauſe of abſence,
Till ye my' empreffe me releſe my grevaunce
Upon you 'is fet my life, myne attendaunce,
Is fette without recure I wis untill
Ye grauntin my true herfe to have his will.
Thus, my dere fwetyng! in a traunce I lye,
And fhal, til drops of pitie from you ſpring,
I mene your mercie, that lieth my herte nye,
That me maii rejoyce, and cauſe for to ſyng
Thefe termes of love; lo I have won the ring,
My godely maiftris; thus of his gode grace
God graunt her bliffe in heven to have a place!
Here followeth how Mercuric, with Pallas, Venus,
and Juna, appered to Paris of Troie, be flepyng by
a fountain *.
Pallas loquitur ad Parin.
SONNE of Priam, gentill Paris of Traie,
Wake of thy flepe, beholde us goddeffes thre,
We havin brought to the encreſe of joye,
To thy difcrefion reportyng our beautie;
Take here this appill, and well adviſe the
Whiche of us is the fairift in thy fight,
And give thou it, we praie the, gentil knight.
Funo loquitur primo.
If fo be thou give it to me, Pariſe,
This fhal I give unto thy worthines,
Honour and conqueft, nobley, lofe and prife,
Victorie, courage, force, and hardines,
Gode avinture, and famous manlines;
For that appil all this give I to the,
Confidir this Parife, and give it me.
Venus loquitur ad Parin.
Naie, give it me, and this I fhall you give,
A glad afpecte with favour and fairnes,
?
*The title in Speght and Urry runs, How Mercury,
with Pallas, Venus, and Minerva, &c. but as Pallas and
Minerva Is one and the fame goddets, and as Juno was
the third goddels at this interview with Paris, her name
in the title, and as one of the appellants to the Trejan
prince, is fuburtated for that of Minerva,
586
BALADES, &c.
CERTAINE
And love of ladies alfo while ye live,
Famous ftature and princely femelines,
Accordyng to your natife gentilnes;
Undirftand this gift well, I you adviſe,
And give it unto me hardly Pariſe.
Pallas loquitur ad Parin.
Ye, ye. Farife, takith hede unto me;
Thou art a prince yborne by thy difcente,
And for to rule thy royall dignite
I fhall the givin firft intendèmente,
Difcrecion, prudence in right judgèmente,
Whiche in a prince is thing moſt covenable :
Give it to me; I am to have it able.
A balade plefaunte.
I HAVE a ladie, where fo that the be,
'That feldome is the foveraine of my thought,
On whoſe beautie when I beholde and fe,
Remembryng me how well ſhe is ywrought,
I thanke Fortune, that to her grace me brought,
So faire is fhe, but nothyng angelike,
Her beautie is unto none othir like.
For hardily and fhe were made of braffe,
Her face and all, fhe hath enough fairneſſe;
Her eyen ben holow' and grene as any graffe,
And ravenish yelowe is her founitreffe,
Thereto ſhe hath of every comelinefle,
Soche quantitie givin her by Nature
'That with the left fhe is of her ftature.
And as a bolt her browis ben ibent,
And betill browed fhe is alfo with all,
And of her witte as fimple' and innocent
As is a childe that can no gode at all;
She is not thicke, her ftature is but ſmall;
Her fingers ben litil and nothyng long;
Her skin is fmothe as any ox'is tong :
Thereto ſhe is ſo wife in daliaunce,
And befet her wordis fo womanly,
'That her to here it doeth me difplefaunce,
For that fhe faieth is faied fo connyngly
That when there be no mo then fhe and I
I had levir fhe were of talkyng fill
Then that ſhe ſhould ſo godelie ſpechè ſpill.
And flothe none fhall ye have in her entreffe,
So diligent is fhe and vertuleffe,
And fo bufie aie all gode to undreffe,
That as ſhe ape fhe is harmleffe,
And as an harnet meke and pitèleſſe,
With that ſhe is fo wife and circumfpe&te
That prudence none her folie can infecte.
Is it not joye that foche one of her age,
Within the boundes of fo grete tendirneffe,
Should in her werke be fo fadde and fo fage,
That of the weddyng fawe all the nobleffe
Of Quene Jane, and ywas tho as I geffe
But of the age of yeris ten and five?
I trowe there are not many foche alive.
For, as Jefu my finfull foulè fave,
There n'is creture in all this worlde livyng
Like unto her that I would gladly have,
So plefith mine hert that godely fwete thyng,
Whoſe foule in hafte unto his blis ybring
That first her formid to be a creture,
For were the well of me I did no cure
An other balade.
O Moffie quince! yhangyng by your ſtalke,
The whiche no man dare plucke awaie nor take
Of all the folke that paffe forthe by or walke,
Your flouris frefhe be fallen awaie and ſhake;
I am right forie, maiſtreffe; for your fake;
Ye feme a thyng that all men have forgoten;
Ye be fo ripe ye waxin almofte roten.
Your uglie cherè deinou- and froward,
Your grene eyin. frownyng and nothing glad,
Your chekes, enboined like a melowe coftard,
Colour of orenge, your breftes fatournad,
Gilt on wara'ntife, the colour wil not fade,
Bawfin buttockid, belied like a tonne,
Men crie S. Barba'ry at the' lofing of your
gonne.
Lovely lende maiftris, take confideracion,
I'am fo forrow full there as ye be' abient,
Floure of the barkfate fouleft of al the nacion,
To love you but a little' is myne entent;
The fwert hath fent you, the fmoke hath you
fhent,
I trow y' have ben laid on fome kill to drie,
You do foch worship there as ye be prefent,
Of al women I love you heft a M. timis fie.
A balade warnying men to beware of deceitful!
zoomen,
LOKE well aboute ye that loviris be,
Let not your luftis lede you to dotage,
Be not enamoured on all thynges ye fe;
Sampfon the forte and Salomon the fage
Decevid were for all ther grete courage;
Men demin it right that thei fe with eye,
Beware therefore, The blind eteth many a flis.
I mene of women; for all ther cheres queint,
Truft them not to moch, ther truthe is but
trefon
The fairift outward wel can thei ypaint,
Ther ftedfaftneffe endurith but a fefon,
For thei faine frendlines and worchin trefon,
And for thei are chaungable natu'rally,
Beware therefore, The blind eteth many' a flie
What wight on lyve ytruftith on ther cheres
Shall have at laft his guerdon and his mede;
Thei can fhave nerir than rafours or fheres:
All is not gold that fbinith, men take hede,
Their galle is hid undir a ſugrid wede;
It is but queint ther fantafie to' afpie,
Beware therefore, The blind eteth many' a
Though all the worldè doe his bufie cure
To make women ftandin in ftableneffe
It would not be; it is againſt nature;
The worlde is doe when thei lacke doublenes,
For thei laugh and love not, this is expreffe ;
To truft on them it is but fantaſie,
Beware therfore, The blind cteth many' a flie.
flie.
3
CERTAINE
587
BALADES, &c.
Women of kindè hath condicions thre;
The firft is that thei be full of diſſeite,
To ſpinnin alfo is ther propertie,
And women have a wondirfull confeite,
For thei can wepe oft, and all is a fleite,
And when thei lift the tere is in the eye,
Beware theffore, The blind eteth many' a flie.
In foth to faie, though all the yerth fo wanne
Wer parchement fmoth, white and fcribabell,
And the gret fe, that called is the' Ocean,
Were tournid into ynke blacker than fabell,
Eche fticke a pen, eche man a fcrivener abel,
Not coud thei writin woman's trechirie,
Beware therfore, The blind eteth many' a flie.
A balade declaring that womens chafite doeth moche
excel all trefure worldly.
In womanhede, as auctours al ywrite,
Moſt thing commendid is chaſte honeſte,
Thing moſt flaund'erous ther nobles to atwite,
As when women of hafty fraëlte
Exceden the bondes of wifely chaſtire,
For what availeth lynage or rial biode
When of ther Ivying the report 'is not gode?
The holy bed defoilid of marriage
For ones defoiled may not recovered be.
The vice goth forth and the froward langage
By many' a relme and many' a grete cite;
Slaundir hath a cuftome, and that' is grete pite,
That true or fals, by a contrarious foune,
Onis areife it goth not lyghtly downe :
For when a lechour by force or maſtry
Defoulid hath of virgins the clennes,
Widous oppreffed, and ly in advoutry,
Affailid wives that ſtode in ftablenes,
may
Who then ther flaundèrous harme redrefte
When ther gode name is hurt by foch report
For fame loft ones can ner have his refort.
A thefe may robbe a man of his richeſſe,
And by fome mene make reftitucion,
And fome man maye dyfherit and oppreffe
A povir man from his poffeffion,
And aftir make him fatisfaccion,
But No man may restore in no degre
A maid robbid of her virginite,
A man may alſo bete a caftil doune;
And bilde it aftir more freſhe to the fight,
Exile a man out of his regioune,
And him revoke whether it be wrong or right,
But No man bath the powir ne the might
For to refore the palace virginal
Of Chaflite when brokin is the wal.
Men may alſo put out of ther fervice,
And officirs remeve out of ther place,
And at a day, when Fortune liſt deviſe,
They may again reftorid be to grace,
But Ther n'is timè notbir ſet ne ſpace,
Nor mer in flory neithir rad ne fain,
That maydenbode loft recovered was again :
For whiche men fhouldin have a confcience,
Rewe in ther hertis and repentin fore,
And havin a remorce of gret offence
To ravifhe thing which they may not reftore,
For it is faide, and hath be ſaid ful fore,
The emeraud grene of parfite chastite
Stole ones away may not recovered be.
And hard it is to ravifhe a trefour
Whiche of nature is not recuperable;
Lordship may not of kinge nor emperour
Reforme a thinge whiche is nat reformable;
Ruft of defame is inſeparable,
And Maidinbode yloft of newe or yore
No man in live may it again restore.
The Romanes olde thorough ther pacience
Suffirid tyrauntes in ther tyranyes
On ther cites to do grete violence,
The peple to oppreffe with ther roberies,
But them to puniſhe they ſet gret eſpies
On falfe avouterers, as it is wel couth,
Which widowes ravish and maidens in ther
youth.
Chaucer's wordes unto bis own fcrivenere.
ADAM SCRIVENERE, yf ever it the befalle
Boece or Troiles for to write new
Under thy longe lockes thou maiſt have the
fcalle,
But after my makynge thou write more true,
So ofte adaye 1 mote thy werke renew
It to correcte and eke to rubbe and fcrape,
And al is thorow thy negligence and rape.
THE
POETICAL WORKS
OF
HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY,
SONGS,
CONNETS,
Containing his
St. Sc. St.
ELEGIES,
TRANSLATIÓNS,
To which is prefixed
THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.
Here noble SURREY felt the facred rage,
SURREY, the GRANVILLE of a former age,
Matchleſs his pen, victorious was his lance,
Bold in the lifts, and graceful in the dance:
In the fame ſhades the Cupids tun'd his lyre
To the fame notes, of love, and ſoft defire;
Fair GERALDINE, bright object of his vow,
Then fill'd the groves as heavenly MIRA now.
POPE'S WINDSOR FOREST.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY MUNDELL AND SON, ROYAL BANK CLOSE,
Anno 1793.
:
2
THE LIFE OF SURREY.
AFTER the death of Chaucer, no confiderable improvements were made in Engliſh poetry, till about
the beginning of the fixteenth century. At that period, our intercourſe with Italy, not only in-
troduced the ſtudy of claffical literature into England, but gave a new turn to our vernacular poetry.
The language and the manners of Italy, were eſteemed and ftudied. The fonnets of Petrarch, were
the great models of compofition. They entered into the genius of the faſhionable manners; and in
the boisterous, but poliſhed court of Henry the Eighth, Petrarch of courfe became the popular
poet.
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, the unrivalled ornament of that court, and of his age, led the way
to great improvements in Engliſh poetry, by a happy imitation of Petrarch, and other Italian poets,
who had been moſt ſucceſsful in painting the anxieties of love with pathos and propriety.
He was the fon and grandſon of two Lord Treaſurers, Dukes of Norfolk; and in his early child-
hood, diſcovered the moſt promiſing marks of lively parts, and an active mind.
While a boy, he was habituated to the modes of a court at Windſor Caſtle, where he reſided, yet
under the care of proper inftructors, in the quality of a companion to Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Rich-
mond, a natural fon of King Henry, and of the higheſt expectations.
A friendſhip of the cloſeſt kind commencing between them, about 1530, they were both removed
to Cardinal Wolfey's College at Oxford; which was one of the firſt ſeminaries of an Engliſh univer-
fity that profeſſed to explode the pedantries of the old barbarous philoſophy, and to cultivate the gra-
cès of polite literature.
Two years afterwards, he accompanied his noble friend into France, where they received King
Henry on his arrival at Calais, to vifit Francis the Firſt, with a moft magnificent retinue.
The friendſhip of theſe two young noblemen, was foon ſtrengthened by a new tie; for Richmond
married Lady Mary Howard, Surrey's fifter.-Richmond, however, appears to have died in 1536,
about the age of feventeen, having never cohabited with his wife.
It was long before he forgot the untimely lofs of this amiable youth, the friend and aſſociate of kis
childhood, and who nearly reſembled himſelf in genius, refinement of manners, and liberal acqui-
fitions.
It is not known at what period he began his travels. They have the air of a romance. He made
the tour of Europe in the true ſpirit of chivalry; proclaiming the unparalleled charms of Geraldine
his miſtreſs, and prepared to defend the cauſe of her beauty with the weapons of knight errantry.
In his way to Italy, he paffed a few days at the Emperor's court, where he became acquainted
with Cornelius Agrippa. This celebrated adept in natural magic, fhewed him, in a mirror of glafs,
a living image of Geraldine, reclining on a couch, ſick, and reading one of his moſt tender fonnets by
a waxen taper. His imagination was heated anew by this intereſting and affecting spectacle. In-
flamed with every enthufiafm of the most romantic paffion, he haftened to Florence, the original feat
of the anceſtors of his Geraldine; and on his arrival, immediately publiſhed a defiance againſt any
perſon who ſhould prefume to diſpute the fuperiority of her beauty. The grand Duke of Tuſcany
permitted this important trial to be decided. The challenge was accepted, and Surrey victorious.
592
THE LIFE OF SURREY.
!
His heroic vanities did not, however, fo totally engrofs the time which he spent in Italy, as to ali-
enate his mind from literature: he ftudied, with the greateſt fuccefs, a critical knowledge of the Ita
lian language, and attained a juſt taſte for the peculiar graces of the Italian poetry.
He was recalled to England, for fome idle reaſon, by the King, and appeared at court the moſt
polite lover, the most learned nobleman, and the most accomplished gentleman of his age.
He fhone in the tournaments of the court; and his name is renowned in the military achievements
of that martial age.
In 1542, he marched into Scotland as a chief commander in his father's army, and was confpicu-
cus for his conduct and bravery at the memorable battle of Flodden-field, where James the Fourth of
Scotland was killed.
The year following, he was imprifoned in Windſor Caſtle, for eating flesh in Lent; a circumſtance
worthy of notice, only as it marks his character, impatient of any controul, and regardleſs of petty
formalities, and as it gave occafion to one of his moft fentimental and pathetic fonnets.
In 1544, he was field-marfhal of the English army in the expedition to Boulogne, which he took;
but being defeated, endeavouring to cut off a convoy of the enemy, a difgrace he repaired, he loft the
King's favour, and was fuperfeded by the Earl of Hertford.
Conſcious of his high birth and capacity, he could not refrain, upon this occafion, from dropping
fome reproachful expreffions against a mcafure which feemed to impeach his perfonal courage.
It was his misfortune to ferve a monarch, whofe refentments, which were'eafily provoked, could
only be fatisfied by the moſt ſevere revenge.
The brilliancy of his character was viewed by Henry with difguft and fufpicion. His populari-
ty was miſconſtrued into a dangerous ambition, and gave birth to accuſations equally groundleſs and
frivolous.
He was fufpected of a deſign to marry the princefs Mary; and it was infinuated that he conver-
fed with foreigners, and correfponded with Cardinal Pole.
The addition of the arms of Edward the Confeffor to his own, though juſtified by the uſage of his
family, and the authority of the heralds, was made a foundation for an impeachment of high-
treafon.
He was arraigned at Guildhall; and notwithſtanding his eloquent and manly defence, he was.
condemned by the prepared fuffrage of a fervile and obfequious jury, and beheaded on Tower-
hill, January 19th 1546-7.
The Duke of Norfolk, charged with allegations equally groundleſs, eſcaped the fame unhappy fate,
by the death of the tyrant, which happened nine days after the unmerited death of his fon.
Surrey was buried in the church of All Hallows-Barking, Tower-ſtreet, but afterwards removed
to Framlingham, Suffolk, where an honourable monument was erected to his memory, by his ſe-
cond fon, Henry Earl of Northampton.
He married Frances, daughter of John Earl of Oxford; by whom he left feveral children. One of
his daughters, Jane, Countess of Weftmoreland, was among the learned ladies of that age, and be-
came famous for her knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages.
History is filent as to the name of the fair Geraldine, the general object of his paffionate fonnets,
and as to the reasons why the gallantries he performed for her, did not end in a marriage.
The notices concerning her in his fonnets are obſcure and indirect; but they have been illuſtrated
with the most happy fagacity by the prefent Earl of Orford, and applied to Lady Elizabeth Fitz-
gerald, whofe poetical name is almoſt her real one. She was fecond daughter of Gerald Fitzgerald,
Earl of Kildare, fecond coufin to the Princeffes Mary and Elizabeth, bred up with them, as it is con-
jectured, at Hunfdon-Houfe, and afterwards the third wife of Edward Clinton, Earl of Lincoln.
His Songes and Sonnettes, as they have been ftiled, were firſt collected and printed at London, by
Tottell, in 155.7, together with the "Songes and Sonnettes" of his amiable and accomplished friend
Sir Thomas Wyat, the elder, and of uncertain authors. Another edition appeared 1565. Others
in 1574, 1585, 1587. The laſt edition was printed in 1717. They are now, for the first time, re-
ceived into a collection of claffical English poetry.
i
THE LIFE OF SURREY.
593
:
}
They were in high reputation with his contemporaries, and for many years afterwards, though
they are ſcarcely known at preſent. They have been praiſed by Leland, Sydney, Tuberville, Put-
tenham, Churchyard, and Drayton, and in more recent times by Dryden, Waller, Fenton, and Pope.
They merit attention equally as compofitions of real and intrinfic merit, and as objects of curioſity.
They are chiefly amatory and fentimental; but in elegance of fentiment, and in nature and fenfi-
bility, they are equal to the best love verfes in our language; and in harmony of numbers, perfpicui-
ty of expreſſion, and facility of phrafeology, they approach fo near the productions of the prefent age,
that they will hardly be believed to have been produced in the reign of Henry the Eighth.
But Surrey was not merely the poet of idleneſs and gallantry. He was fitted, both from nature
and ſtudy, for the more folid and laborious parts of literature. He tranflated the 2d and 4th books
of the Æneid into blank verfe, which are the firſt compofitions extant, in that meaſure, in the Engliſh
language. They were printed in 1557, 12mo; but the book is fo extremely fcarce, that a copy could
not be procured for this edition of his works. He wrote many other poems, which were never pub-
liſhed, and are now perhaps entirely loft. He tranflated the Ecclefiaftes of Solomon into Engliſh`
verſe. He alſo tranſlated a few of the Pfalms into metre. Theſe verſions of Scripture fhew that
he was a friend to the Reformation. Among his works are alſo mentioned a poem on the death of
his friend the Duke of Richmond, an exhortation to the city of London, a tranſlation of Boccace's
epiftle to Pinus, and faveral Latin epiftles.
All his biographers, particularly the Earl of Orford and Mr. Warton, have been laviſh, and very
justly, in his praiſe; he merits the higheft encomiums, as the first refiner of our language, and the
unrivalled ornament of his age and country, and challenges the gratitude and eſteem of every man
of literature, for the generous affiſtance he afforded it in its infancy, and his ready and liberal affist-
ance to all men of merit in his time.
His poetical character is fo elegantly drawn by the happy pencil of Mr. Warton, as to render the
bungling after-ſtrokes of a caſual band unneceffary.
"In the fonnets of Surrey," fays that judicious and claffical critic, whofe death is an irreparable
lofs to English literature, "we are ſurpriſed to find nothing of that metaphyſical caft, which marks
the Italian poets, his ſuppoſed maiters, eſpecially Petrarch. Surrcy's fentiments are for the moft
part natural and unaffected; arifing from his own feelings, and dictated by the prefent circumſtances.
His poetry is alike unembarraſſed by learned alluſions, or elaborate conceits. If he copies Petrarch,
it is Petrarch's beft manner, where he defcends from his Platonic abftractions, his refinements of
paſſion, his exaggerated compliments, and his play upon oppoſite fentiments, into a track of tender- |
nefs, fimplicity, and nature,
"Surrey, for his juftnefs of thought, correctnefs of ftyle, and purity of expreffion, may justly be
pronounced the firft English claffical poet. He unquestionably is the first polite writer of love ver-
fes in our language."
VOL, I.
PP
}
THE ORIGINAL PREFAC E.
THAT to have well written in verfe, yea and in
fmall parcelles, deferveth great prayfe. The
workes of dyvers Latines, Italians and other, doe
prove fufficiently, that our tong is able in that
kynde to dooe as prayfe worthely as the reft, the
Honorable Style of the Noble Earl of Surrey, and
the weightineffe of the deep witted Syr Thomas
Wyat the Elders verſe, with ſeveral graces in fun-
dry good Engliſh writers, doe shoe abundantly.
It refteth nowe (gentle reader) that thou thynke
it not evil done, to publyfh to the honour of the
Englyfh tong, and for the profit of the ſtudioufe
of Englysh Eloquence, thofe woorkes whiche the
[ungentle horders up of fuche treaſure, have here-
tofore envyed thee; and for this point (good read-
er) thyne owne profite and pleaſure in theſe pre-
fently, and in mo hereafter fhall aunfwere for my
defence. If perhappes fome myflyke the ſtateli-
neffle of ftyle removed from the rude ſkyll of
common eares: I afk helpe of the learned to de-
fende thyre learned frend the authore of this
woorke, and I exhorte the unlearned by reading
to learne to be more ſkyllfull, and to purge that
fwinelike groffeneffe that maketh the fweet ma-
feroine not to ſmell to theyr delight.
SONGES AND SONNETTES.
Description of the refileſs ſtate of a Lover, with Sute to. To ſtand agazed, and link in more and more:
bis Lady, to rue on bis dieng bart.
THE Sunne hath twyfe brought fourth his tender
grene,
Twyfe cladde the earth in lyvely luftineffe;
Ones have the wyndes the trees dyſpoled clene,
And once agayne begynnes theyr cruelneffe,
Synce I have hyd under my breſt the harme,
That never fhall recover healthfulneffe.
The wynters hurt recovers with the warme,
The parched grene reſtored is with fhade:
What warmth, alas! may ferve for to dyfarme
The frofen hart that myne inflame hath made?
What colde agayne is able to reſtore
My fresh grene yeares, that wither thus and fade.
Alas! I fee nothing has hurt fo fore
But tyme, in tyme reduceth a returne:
In tyme my harme encreaſeth more and more
And feemes to have my cure allwayes in fcorne,
Strange kindes of death, in lyfe that I doe trye
At hand to melt, farre of in flame to burne :
And lyke as tyme lyft to my cure applye,'
So doth eche place my comfort cleane refufe.
All things alive, that feeth the heavens with eye,
With cloke of night may cover and excufe
Itſelf from travayle of the dayes unreſt,
Cave I, alas! against all others ufe
That then ftyrre up the tormentes of
And curfe eche ftarre as caufer of my fate :
And when the fun hath eke the darke oppreft,
And brought the day, it doth nothing abate
my breafte;
The travayles of myne endleſs ſmarte and payne:
For then as one as hath the light in hate,
I wish for night more covertly to playne
And me withdrawe from every haunted place,`
Left by my chere my chaunce appeare to playne,
To fecke the place where I my felf had loft,
And in my mynde I'meafure pace by pace.
That day that I was tangled in the lace,
In femyng flacke that knitted ever moft;
Rut never yet the travayll of my thought
Of better ſtate, could catche a caufe to boſt:
For if I founde fometime that I have fought,
Thoſe ſteires by whom I trufled of the port,
My fayles do fall, and I advaunce right nought,
As ankred faßt, my fprites do all refort
The deadly harme which he doth take in ſport
Lo! it I feek, how I do find my fore!
And if I fiee, I cary with me fyll
The venomed fhaft which doth hys force reſtore
By haft of flight, and I may plague my till
Unto my felf, unleſs this carefull ſong
Print in your hart fome parcell of my tene
For I alas! în filence all too long
Of myne olde hurt, yet feele the wound but grene:
Rue on my lyfe, or else your cruel wronge
Shall well appeare and by my death be ſene,
Defcription of Spring, wherein eche thing reneres,
Save only the Lover.
THE foote feafon that bud, and bloome fourth
bringes,
With grene hath cladde the hyll,and eke the vale,
1 he nightingall with fethers new the finges;
The turtle too her mate hath told her tale
Somer is come, for every ſpray now fpringes.
The hart hath hung hys olde head on the pale;
The bucke in brake his winter coate he flynges;
The fishes flete with newe repayred fcale:
The adder all her flough away the fynges,
The ſwift ſwallow puffueth the flyes fmalle,
The busy bee her honey how themynges;
Winter is worne that was the floures ball.
And thus I fee among theſe pleaſant thyuges
Eche care decayes, and yet my forrow Iprynges.
义
​Defcripcion of the reflefs eftate of a Lower,
WHEN youth had led me halfe the race,
That Cupides fcourge had made me rùnne;
I looked back to meet the place,
From whence my weary courfe begunne :
And then I faw howe my defyre
Mifguiding me had led the waye,
Myne ejne to greedy of theyre hýře,
Had made me lofe a better prey.
For when in fighes I ſpent the day,
And could not cloake my grief with gayne
P pij
596
THE WORKS OF SURREY.
The boyling fmoke dyd ftill bewray,
The prefent heate of fecret flame :
And when falt teares do bayne my breaſt,
Where love his pleaſent traynes hath fowen,
Her beauty hath the fruytes oppreft,
Ere that the buddes were fpronge and blowne.
And when myne eyen dyd ftill purfue,
The flying chaſe of theyre request;
Theyre greedy looks dyd oft renew,
The hydden wounde within my brefte.
When every loke theſe cheekes might flayne,
From dedly pale to glowing red;
By outward fignes appeared playne,
To her for helpe my hart was filed.
But all to late love learneth me,
To paynt all kynd of colours new;
To blynd theyre eyes that elſe ſhould fee
My fpeckled chekes with Cupids hew.
And now the covert breft I clame,
That worſhit Cupide feeretely;
And nourished hys facred flame,
From whence no blairing ſparkes do flye.
+
Defcripcion of the fickle Affections, Pangs, and
Sleightes of Love.
Such wayward wayes hath Love, that moſt part
in difcord
1
}
Our willes do ftand, whereby our hartes but fel-
dom do accord:
Decyte' is hys delighte, and to begyle and mocke
The fimple hartes who he doth ftrike with froward
divers ftroke.
He caufeth th' one to rage with golden burning
darte,
[harte.
And doth alay with leaden cold, again the others
Whofe gleames of burning fyre and eafy fparkes
of flame,
[ame
In balance of unequal weyght he pondereth by
From eafye ford where I myghte wade and paſs
full well,
He me withdrawes and doth me drive, into a depe
dark hell:
And me witholdes where I am calde and offred
place,
And willes me that 'my mortal foe' I do' beſeke
of grace;
He lettes me to purfuc a conqueft welnere wonne
To foilowe where my paynes were loft,'ere that
my fute begunne.
[turne
So by this means I know how foon a hart may
From warre to peace, from truce to ftryfe, and fo
agayne returne.
I know how to content my felf in others luft,
Of little ſtuffe unto my felf to weave a webbe of
truft :
And how to byde my harmes with fole dyffem-
blyng chere
Whan in my face the painted thoughtes wou'd
outwardly appeare.
[dred,
I know how that the bloud forfakes the face for
And how by fhame it flaynus agayne the chekes
with flamynged:
I know under the grene, the ferpent how he lurkes!
The hammer of the reftlefs forge I wote eke how
it workes.
I know, and can by roate the tale that I woulde tell
But ofte the woordes came fourth awrye of him
that loveth well.
I know in heate and colde the lover how he fhakes,
In fyngeing how he doth complayne, in fleeping
how he wakes
To languish without ache, fickeleffe for to confume,
A thouſand thynges for to devyfe, refolvynge of
his fume;
[fore
And though he lyfte to fee his ladyes grace full
Such pleaſures as delyght his eye, do not his helthe
reftore.
I know to feke the tracte of my defyred foe,
And fere to fynde that I do feek, but chiefly this
I know,
[loved,
That lovers must tranfourme into the thynge be-
And live (alas! who would believe?) with fprite
from lyfe removed.
I knowe in harty fighes and laughters of the ſpleene,
At once to chaunge my ſtate, my will, and eke
my colour clene.
I know how to deceyve my felf wythe others helpe,
And how the lyon chaftifed is, by beatynge of the
whelpe.
In ftandynge nere the fyre, I know how that I freaſe ;
Farre of I burne, in bothe I waſte, and ſo my lyfe
1 lecfe.
[mynde,
I know how Love doth rage upon a yeylding
How fmalle a nete may take and mafe a harte of
gentle kynde:
Or elfe with feldom fwete to feafon hepes of gall,
Revived with a glympfe of grace old forrows to
let fall.
[Love,
The hydden traynes I know, and fecret fnares of
How foone a loke will prynte a thoughte that ne-
[welthe
The flypper itate I knowe, the fodein turnes from
The debtfull hope, the certaine wooe, and fure
defpaired hethe.
ver may remove.
The Complainte of a Lover that defied Love, and was
by Love after the more tormented.
WHEN fomer tooke in hande the wynter to affayle,
With force of myghte and vyrtue grete, his ftormy
blafts to quaile :
And when he clothed fayre the earthe about wythe
grene,
And every tree new garmented, that pleaſure was
to fene:
Mine hart gan new revive, and changed blood did
fir
Me to withdrawe my wynter woes, that kepte
wyth,n the dur.
Abrode, quod my delyre, affay to fet thy fote.
Where thou shalt fynde the favour fweete, for
fprong is every rote
And to thy helthe if theu were fycke in any cafe
Nothing more good, than in the fprynge the cyra
to file a place:
1
3
SONGES AND
597
SONETTE S.
}
}
There ſhalt thou heare and fee al kynde of Byrdes,
ywrought
Wel tune theyre voyce, with warble fmal, as na-
ture hath them tought.
[leave,
Thus pricked me my luft the fluggish houfe to
And for my helthe I thoughte it beft, fuch coun-
fel to receave:
So on a morrow furth, unwift of any wyghte,
I went to prove how well it woulde, my hevy
burden lyghte:
And when I felt the ayre, fo pleaſant round
aboute;
[gotten out.
Lorde to my felfe how glad I was, that I had
There myght I fee how Ver had every bloſſome
[they went;
kent,
And eke the new betrothed byrdes y coupled how
And in thyre fonges me thought, they thanked
nature much,
That by her lycence al that yere, to Love theyre
hope was fuch :
Right as they could devife to choſe them trees
throughout,
Wyth much reyoyng to theyr Lord, thus flew
they all about.
[ceave,
Whyche when I gan refolve, and in my head con-
What pleafant lyfe, what heaps of joy, thofe little
birdes receave.
And faw in what eſtate I weary man was wroughte,
By want of that they had at will, and I refcet at
nought:
Lord, how I gan in wrath! unwifely me demeane!
I curfed Love, and hym defied, I thoughte to turne
the streame:
t
| Clad in the armes, wherein with me he fought,
Oft in my face he doth his banner reſt.
She that methought to love, and ſuffer pain,
My doubtfull hope, and eke my hot defire,
With fhamfaft cloke to fhadowe and reſtrain,
Her fmiling grace converteth ſtraight to ire,
And cowred Love then to the hart apace
Taketh his flight, whereas he lurkes and plaines,
His purpoſe loft, and dare not fhewe his face,
For my Loves gilt thus faultless bide I paines,
Yet from my Love fhall not my foote remove
Swete is his deth, that takes his end by Love.
Complaint of the Lover Dijdained.
IN Ciprus fpringes whereas dame Venus dwelt,
A well fo hote, that who ſo taſtes the ſame;
Were he of ſtone, as chawed yfe fhould inelt,
And kindlede finde his breft with fired flame.
Whoſe mo, ft poi:on diffolved hath my hate,
This creping fire my cold lims fo oppreſt;
That in the hart that harborde fredome late,
Endleffe defpayre long thraldome hath impreft.
An other fo colde in trozen yfe is founde,
Whofe chilling venom of repugnant kinde ;
The fervent heat doth quenche of Cupides wounde
And with the ſpoted change infectes the minde:
Whereof my dere hath tafted to my paine,
My fervice thus is grown into difdaine.
But when I well behelde, he had me under awe,
I aſked mercy for my faulte, that fo tranfgreft hisDefeription and Praife of bis Love GERALdine.
lawe,
Thou blinded God (quod I) forgive me this offence,
Unwittingly I went about to malice thy pretence.
Wherewith he gave a becke, and thus methoughte❘
he ſwore,
Thy forrow ought fuffice to purge thy faulte if it
were more :
The virtue of which found, mine hart did fo revive,
That I methought was made as whoale, as any
man alive,
But here I may perceve, myne error and all and
fome,
[ftill undone :
For that I thought that ſo it was, yet was it
And al that wasno more but mine expreffed mynde,
That fain wou'd have fome good reliefe, of Cu-
pid well affigned.
I turned home forthwith, and might perceyve it
well,
[rebel
That he agreved was right fore, with me for my
My harmes have ever fince encreafed more, and
more,
[evermore.
And I remaind without his helpe, undone for
A mirror let me be unto ye lovers all; [befall.
Strive not with Love, for if ye do, it will ye thus
te
Complaint of a Lover Rebuked.
Love that liveth, and raigneth in my thought,
That built his feat within my cative breft
FROM Tufcane came my Ladies worthy race,
Faire Florence was fometime her auncient ſeate: ·
The Western Yle whofe pleaſant ſhore doth face
Wild Cambers clifs, did geve her lyuely heate:
Foſtered fhe was, with milke of Iriſhe breit:
Her fire, an erle, her dame, of princes blood;
From tender yeres, in Britaine the doth reft,
With kinges childe, where the tafteth coftly foode.
Honfdon did first prefent her to myne yien:
Bright is her hewe, and Geraldine the hight,
Hampton me taught, to wiſhe her first for mine,
And Windſor, alas, doth chafe me from her fight.
Her beauty of kinde, her vertue from above,
Happy is he, that can obtain her Love.
3
The frailtye, and burtfulnes of Beautie.
BRITTLE beautie that nature made fo fraile,
Whereof the gift is fmall, and ſhort the ſeaſon;
Flowring to day, to morowe apt to faile,
Tickled treaſure, abhorred of reafon :
Dangerous to deale with, vaine of none availe,
Coftly in keeping, pait not worthe two peaſon
Slipper in fliding, as is an eles taile;
Harde to attain, once gotten not geafon.
Jewell of jeopardie, that peril doth aflaille,
Falle and vntrewe, enticed oft to treaſon;
Pp iij
598
THE WORKS OF SURREY.
Enemy to youth, that most may I bewaille;
Ah bitter ſwete! infecting as the poyſon,
Thou fareft as frute, that with the froft is taken,
To day redy ripe, to norow al to fhaken.
ざ
​+
A Complaint by night of the Lover not Beloved.
ALAS! fo al thinges now doe holde theire peace,
Heaven and earth diſturbed in nothing;
The beaftes, the ayer, the birdes their fonge doe
leafe,
The nightes chare the ftares aboute doth bringe :
Calme is the fea, the waues worke leffe and leffe.
So am not I, whome Love alas doth wring,
Bringing before my face the great encrcafe.
Of my defires, whereas I wepe and fing,
In joy and wo, as in a doubtful cafe,
For ny
fwete thoughts, fome tyme doe pleaſure
bring;
But by and by, the caufe of my diſeaſe,
Geves me a pang, that inwardly doth ftinge;
When that I thinke what grief it is againe,
To live and lacke the thing fhould ridde ny pain.
How eche thing, fave the Lover in Spring, Reinveth tə
pleaſure.
WHEN Windfor walles fuftcined my wearied arme,
My hande, my chin, to eaſe my reftleffe hed,
The pleaſant plot reuefted green with warme,
The bloffomd bowes with lufty Ver yfpred:
The floured meades, the wedded byrdes fo late,
Myne eyes difcouer, and to my niynde reforte
The ioly woes, the hateleffe fhort debate,
The rakehell lyfe, that longes to loues difporte,
Wherewith, alas, the heauy charge of care
Heapt in my breft, breakes fourth agaynft my wyll,
In fmoky fightes that ouercaft the ayre,
My vapor'd eyes fuch drearly teares dyftill.
The tender fpring whiche quicken, where they fall,
And I halfe bent to throwe me downe withall.
た
​A Vowe to love faithfully horfoeuer be be rewarded.
SET me whereas the fonne doth parch the grene,
Or where his beams do not dyffolve the yfe,
In temperate heat, where he is felt, and fene,
In prefence preft of people, madde, or wife;
Set me in hye, or yet in lowe degree,
In longest night, or in the fhorteft day;
In clearest kyc, or where cloudes thickest be,
In lufty youth, or when my hears are grave :
Set me in heaven, in earth, or elfe in hell,
In hyll or dale, or in the foaming flood;
Thrall, or at large, alyve where fo I dwell,
Sicke, or in helthe, in cvyll fame or goed;
Hers will be, and only with this thought,
Content my felf, althoug my chaunce be nought.
Complaint that hys Lady after fhe knew of bys Love,
kept ber face always bydden from bym.
I NEVER fawe my Lady laye apart,
Her cornet blacke, in colde nor yet in heate,
Sith fyrſt ſhe knew my griefe was growen ſo greate,
Whyche other fancies dry veth from my harte
That to my felfe I do the thought refcrve,
The whyche unwares dyd wound my woeful breft,
But on her face myne eyes mought never rett:
Yet fynce fhe knew I dyd her love and ferve,
Her golden treffes cladde alfway with blacke;
Her fmyleyng lookes that had thus evermore,
And that reftraynes which I defire fo fore;
So doth this cornet governe, me alacke!
In fummer fun, in winters breathe, a frofte,
Wherebye the lyghte of her fayre lookes I loft.
Request to bys Love to ioyne Bountie with Beauty.
THE golden gyft that Nature dyd thee geve,
To faften frendes and feed them at thy will;
With fourme and favour, taught me to believe,
How thou arte made to fhowe her greateſt fkylle;
Whofe hydden vertues are not fo unknowen,
But lyvely dames myghte gather at the fyrite;
Where beau y fe her perfecte feede hath fowen,
Of all other graces follow nedes, there muſt.
Now certes Ladie. fynce all thys is true,
That from above thy gyftes are thus eled;
Do not deface them than wyth fanfies newe.
Nor chaunge of myndes let not the mynde infect:
But mercy hyme thy frende, that doth thee ferve,
Who fcekes always thyne honour to preferve.
Prifoner in Windſor, he recounteth his pleaſure there
paffed.
So cruell prifon howe could betyde, alas!
As proude Windfor: Where I in luft and joy,
Wythe a kyngesfonne, my chyldyfhyeres dyd paſſe,
In greater feaft, than Priams fonnes of Troye :
Where cche fwete place returnes a taftfull fower:
The large grene where we were wont to trove,
Wyth eyes caft up into the Maydens tower,
And eaſy fighes, fuch as folkes draw in Love:
The ſtately ſeates, the ladies brighte of hewe;
The daunces fhort, long tales of greate delight
Wyth woordes and lookes, that tygers could but
rewe,
Where cche of us dyd pleade the others ryghte.
The palme play, where defpoyled for the game,
With dared eyes oft we by gleames of love,
Have myft the ball, and gote fighte of our dame
To bayte her eyes, whyche kept the leads above
The gravel grounde, wythe fleves tyde on the
[hartes;
On fomyng horfe, with fwordes and frendly
Wythe chere as though one fhould another whelme
Where we have fought, and chafed oft wyth dartes.
helme
SONGES AND SONETTES.
599
With filver droppes the meade yet ſpreade for
ruthe,
Was all to wynne a lady fayre,
Shall I not learne to fuffer then?
And think my tyme well spent to be;
In actives games of nimbleneſs and ſtrength,
Where we did ftrayne trayned with fwarmes of Serving a woorthier wyghte than the?
youthe
Our tender limmes, that yet fhot up in lengthe.
The ſecrete groves which oft we made refounde,
Of pleaſant playrte, and of our Ladies prayſe,
Recordyng oft what grace eche one had founde,
What hope of fpede, what dreade of long delayes.
The wylde forreft, the clothed holes with grene,
With raynes availed and ſwiftly breathed horſe;
Wyth cry of houndes and merry blaſtes betwene,
Where we did chafe the feareful harte of force.
The wyde vales eke, that harborde us eche
nyghte,
Wherewyth, (alas) reviveth in my brefte;
The fwete accorde, fuch flepes as yet delyt,
The pleaſant dreames the quyet bed of reft;
The fecret thoughtes imparted with ſuch truſt,
The wanton talke, the dyvers chaunge of playe;
The friendſhip ſworne, eche promiſe kept ſo faſt,
Wherewith we paſt the winter nyghte away.
And wyth thys thoughte, the bloud forfakes the
face,
The teares berayne my chekes of deadly hewe,
The whyche as foone as ſobbyng ſighes, (alas!)
Upſupped have, thus, I my playnt renewe:
O place of bliffe! renewer of my woes!
Give me accompt where is my noble fere,
Whom in thy walles thou doeft eche nyghte en-
clofe,
To other lufe, but unto me moſt clere:
Eccho (alas!) that doth my forrow rewe,
Returns thereto a hollowe founde of playnt;
Thus I alone, where all my freedome grewe,
In pryfon pyne, withe bondage and reftraynt:
And wirh remembrance of the greater griefe,
To baniſh the leffe I fynd my chief reliefe.
Therefore I never will repent,
But paynes contented ftyll endure;
For like as when rough winter ſpent,
The pleaſant fprynge ſtraight draweth in ure,
So after raging ftormes of care,
Joyfull at length may be my fare.
Complaint of the abfence of ber Lover being upon
the feas.
O Happy dames that may embrace,
The fruite of your delyghte;
Help to bewayle the woefull cafe,
And eke the heavy plyghte
Of me that wonted to reioyce,
The fortune of my pleaſant choice:
Good ladyes helpe to fill my mourning voice.
In fhippe freighte wythe remembraunce
Of thoughtes and pleaſures paſt,
He fayles that hath governaunce;
My life while it will laft.
With fcalding fighes for lacke of gale,
Furderyng hys hope that is his fayle,
Toward me, the fwete port of hys avayle.
Alas! how oft in dreams I fee
Thofe eyes that were my foode,
Whych fometyme fo delyted me
That yet they do me goode :
Wherewith I wak wythe his returne,
Whofe abſent flame dyd make me burn,
But when I fynde the lacke, Lord, how I mourne!
When other lovers in armes acroffe,
Reioyce their encchyfe delyght;
Drowned in teares to mourne my loffe
I ftand the bytter nyghte
In my window where I may fee
Before the wyndes how the cloudes flee
The Lover comfortetb bimfelfe wythe the Worthynee Lo! what a mariner love hath made me.
of hys Love.
WHEN rageyng love wyth extreme payne,
Most cruelly diftraynes my harte;
When that my teares as foudes of rayne,
Bear witness of my wofull fmarte:
When fighes have wafted fo my breathe
That I lye at the poynt of deathe.
I call to mynde the navy greate,
That the Greekes brought to Troy towne,
And how the boyſterous wyndes dyde beate
Theyre fhippes, and rent thayre fayles adowne;
Tyll Agamemnons daughters bloode,
Appeafed the goddeſs that them withſtood:
And how that in thoſe ten years warre,
Full many a bloody dede was done;
And many a Lorde that came full farre,
There caughte his bane (alas!) too foone:
And many a good knyghite. overcome,
Before the Giekes had Helenne wonne.
hen think I thus fith fuch repayre,
So long tyme warre of valiant menne,
2
And in grene vraves when the falt floode
Doth ryfe by rage of wynde,
A thouſand fanfies in that mood
Affayle my refleffe mynde:
Alas! how drencheth my fwet fo
That wyth the Ipoyle of my hart did go,
And left me, (but alas!) why did he fo?
And when the feas were calme agayne,
To chace from me annoye,
My doubtful hope doth caufe my playne,
So drede cuts of my loye.
Thus in my wealth myngled with woe,
And of eche thought a doubt doth growe
Now he comes! will he come? alas! no!
Complaint of a dying Løver refuſed upon bys Ladyes
Infult maflaking of hys wrytyng.
IN wynters iuft returne, when Boreas
when Boreas gan his
And every tree unclothed faft, as nature taught
raygne,
them playne:
P piiij
I
{
600
THE WORKS
In myfty morning darke, as fhepe are then in
holde,
I hyde me faſt, it fat me on, my fhepe for to un-
folde.
And as it is a thynge that lovers have by fyttes,
Under a palme I heard one cry, as he had loft hys
wittes.
Whofe voice did ringe fo fhryll in utterynge of
hys playnt,
That I amazed was to heare, how love coulde hym
attaynt,
Ah! wretched man (quod he) come death and
ryd thys woe;
A iufteward, a happy end, if it may chaunce
thee foe.
Thy pleaſures paſt, have wrought thy woe with-
out redreffe;
If thou hadft never felt no ioy, thy fmart had been
the leffe.
And rechleffe of hys lyfe, he gan Both figh and
grone,
A ruefull thynge methought it was to here hym
make fuch mone
'Thou curfed pen fayd he, wo worthe the byrde
The bare,
The man, the knyfe, and all that made thee, wo
be to thyre fhare :
Wo worth the tyme and place, where I could fo
endyte,
And wo be it yet once agayne, the pen that fo
can wryte.
Unhappy hand! it had been happy tyme for me,
If when to wryte thou learned fyrfte, unjoynted
hadft thou be.
Thus curfed he himſelf, and every other wyghte,
Save her alone whom love him bound to ferve
both day and nyght.
Whyche when I heard and faw, how he hymſelf
foredyd
Againſt the ground with bloody ftrokes, hymſelf
even thereto rid;
Had been my hart of flynt it muſt have melted
though,
For in my lyfe I never faw a man fő full of wo,
Wyth teares for hys redreffe, I rafhely to him
ran,
And in my armes I caught hym faft, and thus I
fpake hym than:
What wofull wyght art theu that in fuch heavy
cafe,
Tormentes thy felfe wyth fuch defpyte here in
thys defert place?
Wherewyth as all agayfte, fulfylde with ire and
dread,
He caft on me a ftareing loke with colour pale
and dead;
[plyght,
Nay what art thou (quod he) that in thys heavy
Doeft fynde me here, moft wofull wretch, that
lyfe hath in defpight ?
I am (quod I) but poore and fymple in degree,
A fhepheardes charge I have in hande, unworthy
though I be:
Wyth that he gave a fighe as though the fkye
fhould fall,
[he call:
And loud alas he fhryked oft, and shepheard gan
OF SURREY,
Come hye thee faft at ones, and prynt it in thy
hart,
So thou shall know, and I fhall tell, thy gyltleffe
how I fmart.
Hys backe agaynite the tree fore feebled all wythe
faynic
Wyth weary ſprite, he ftretcht hym up, and thus
he told hy's plaint:
Once in my harte (quod he) it chaunced me to
love
Such one in whome hath nature wrought her
cunning for to prove :
And fure I cannot fay but many yeres were spent.
With fuch good will fo recompenft, as both we
were content.
Where to fhew I'me bounde, and fhe lykewiſe alſo,
The funne fhould rune hys courfe awry ere we
thys fayth foregoe.
Who joyed then but 1? who hadde thys worldes
blyffe?
Who myghte compare a lyfe to myne that never
thought on this?
But dwellyng in thys truth, amid my greateſt joy,
It me befalled a greater loffe then Priam had of
Troy ;
She is reverfed cleane and beareth me in hand,
That my defertes have geven cauſe to breke thys
faythful band.
And for my juſt excufe avayleth no defence:
Now knowest thou all, I can no more, but shep-
heard hye thee hence;
[lyve,
And gave him leave to dye, that may no longer
Whofe record to I claime to have, my death I do
forgeve;
And eke when I am gone, be bold to ſpeake it
playne,
Thou haſt ſeen dye the trueft man that ever love
dyd payne.
Wherewith he turnde hym rounde, and gaſping
oft for breath,
Into his armes a tree he caught, and fayd welcome
my death
Welcome a thouſand fold, now dearer unto me
Than fhould without her love to live, an empe-
rour to be.
Thus in this wofull ftate he yelded up the goft,
And little knoweth his ladye, what a lover ſhe
hath loft.
[right
Whofe death when I beheld, no marvel was it
For pitic though my heart dyd blede, to fee ſo
piteous fight.
My bloud from heate to cold oft chaunged won-
ders fore,
[before:
A thouſand troubles there I found I never knew
Twene dreade and dolour, fo my fpretes were
brought in feare,
That long it was ere I could call to minde, what
I dyd there.
But as cche thing hath ende, ſo had theſe paynes
of myne,
The furies paft, and I my wittes reftorde by
length of tyme:
I
Then as I could devyfe, to feek I thought it beft,
Where I might finde fome worthy place for fuch
a corps to reft:
3
SONGES AND SONETTES.
601
4
Į
And in my mynde it came, from thence not farre
away
Where Crefelds love, king Priams fone the wor-
thy Trolus lay:
By him I made his tombe, in token he was true.
And as to him belongeth well, I covered it with
blewe;
[foone,
Whoſe foule by aungels power, departed not fo
But to the heavens, io it fled, for to receive his
dome.
!
Complaint of the abſence of her lover bryng upon the fea.
Good ladies, ye that have your pleaſures in exile,
Step in your foote, come take a place, and morne
with me a while:
And fuch as by theyr lordes do fet but little pryce,
Let them fit ftill, it ſkilles them not what chaunce
come on the dice:
But ye whom love hath bound by order of defyre,
To love your lords, whofe good deferts none
other would require:
[myne,
Come ye yet once agayne, and fet your foote by
Whofe wofull plight, and forrwes great, no tong
can well define.
My love and lord, alas! in whom confiftes my
welth,
Hath fortune fent to paffe the feas in hazard of
his helth:
[mynde,
Whom I was wont tembrace with well contented
Is now amyd the fomyng floods at pleaſure of the
wynde:
Where God will him preferve, and foone him
home ne fend,
Without which hope my lyfe (alas) were fhortly
at an ende:
Whoſe abſence yet although my hope doth tell
me playne
With fhort returne he comes anone, yet ceaſeth
not my payne:
The fearefull dreames I have, oft tymes doe grieve
me fo,
That when I wake, I lye in doubte, where they
be true or no :
Sometimes the roaring feas, me femes do grow
fo hye,
That nry deare Lord,
fee him dye.
ay me, alas! methinkes I
An other time the fame doth tell me he is come,
And playing, where I fhall hym finde with his
faire little foune.
So fourth I goe apace to fee that lefeſome ſight,
And with a hyffe, methinke I fay welcome my
lord my knight,
Welcome my fwete, alas, the ſtay of my welfare,
Thy prefence bringeth forth a truce atwixt me
and my care:
Then lively doth he look, and falveth me agayne,
And fayth my dere how is it now that you have
all this payne?
[breft,
Wherewith the heavy cares that heapt are in my
Breake fourth and me difchargen clene of all my
huge unreft.
But when I me awake, and find it but a dreame
The anguish of my former wo beginneth more
extreme
And me tormenteth ſo that uneath may I fynde,
Some hidden peace wherein to flake the gnawing
of my mynde.
[burne,
Thus every way you fee wythe abfence how I
And for my wound no cure I fynde but hoape
of good returne;
Save when I thynke by fowre how fwete is felt
the more
[fore =
It doth abate fome of my paynes, that I abode be-
And then unto myſelf I fay, when we ſhall mete,
But little whyle fhall feme thys payne, the joy
fhall be fo fwete.
Ye wyndes I you conjure in cheife of your rage,
That ye my lord fafely fend my forrowes to af-
fwage.
And that I may not long abyde in thys exceffe,
Do your good will to cure a wyght that liveth in
diftreffe.
A praife of bys Love, wherein be reproveth them that
compare their ladies with bis.
GIVE place ye lovers here before,
That ſpent your boaſtes and bragges in vain,
My ladies beuty paffeth more,
The beſt of yours I dare well fayne,
Then doth the funne the caundle lyght,
Or bryghteſt day the darkeſt nyght,
And thereto hath a troth as juſt,
As had Penelope the fayre,
For what ſhe ſayeth ye may it truſt,
As it by wrytyng fealed were:
And virtues hath the many moe,
Than I wyth pen have ſkill to fhoe.
I could reherſe if that I would,
The whole effecte of natures playnt,
When ſhe had loft the perfecte moulde,
The like to whome ſhe could not paynte:
With wringeing hands, how ſhe did cry,
And what ſhe ſaid, I know it, I.
I knowe ſhe fwore with rageing mynde,
Her kyngđome only fet apart;
There was no loffe by law of kynde.
That could have gone fo nere her hearte;
And this was chiefely all her payne.
She could not make the lyke agayne.
Syth nature thus gave her the prayfe,
To be the chiefeſt worke the wroughte;
In fayth me thynke fome better ways,
On your behalfe myghte well be foughte.
Then to compare (as you have done)
To matche the candle withe the funne.
To a Ladie that fſkorned her Lover.
ALTHOUGHE I have a checke,
To geve the mate is harde;
For I have found a necke,
To keep my men in garde.
602
THE WORKS OF SURREY.
And you that hardy are,
To geve fo great affaye
Unto a man of warre
To dryve hys men away :
I nede you take good hede,
And marke this foolyfh verſe;
For I wyll fo provyde,
That I wyll have you ferce.
And when your ferce is had,
And all your warre is done,
Then fhall yourſelf be glad,
To end that you begonne.
For if by chaunce I winne,
Your perfonne in the feilde,
To late then you come in
Your felie to me to yelde.
For I will uſe my power,
As caprayne full of myghte;
And fuch I will devoure,
As uſe to fhew my Ipyghte.
And for becauſe you gave
Me cheke in your degree;
This vantage lo I have,
Now check and guarde to thee:
Defend it if thou may,
Stand ftyffe in thyne eſtate;
For fure I will affay,
If I can geve the mate.
A warning to the Lover, how he is abused by his Love.
To dearly had I boughte my grene and youthful
ycres,
If in myne age I coulde not fynde, when craft for
love apperes.
[reft,
And ſeldome though I come in Court among the
Yet can I iudge in colours dymme, as deep as can
the best.
Where grief tormentes the man that ſuffereth fe-
cret fmart,
To breake it fourth unto fome frende, it caſeth
well the heart:
So ftand it now with me, (for my beloved frend)
This cafe is thine, for whom I feel fuch torments
of my mynde;
And for thy fake, I burne fo in my ſecret breſte,
That tyll thou know my whole diſeaſe, my heart
can have no reſt.
I fee how thyne abuſe hath wreſted fo thy wittes,
That all it yeldes to thy defire, and followes thee
by fittes.
Where thou haft loved fo long, with heart and
[devour;
all thy power,
I fce thee fed with fayned wordes, thy freedom to
I know, (though the fay nay, and would it well
withfande,
When in her grace, thou yeldcft thee moſt, ſhe
bare thee but in hand;
I fee her pleafant cherc, in chiefeft of thy fuite,
When thou art gone, I fee him come, that ga-
thers up the fruite;
And eke in thy refpect, I fee the baſe degree,
Of him to whom the gave the hart, that promifed
was to thee.
I ſee (what woulde you more) ftode never man fo
fure,
On womans woord, but wifedome would inſtruct
it to endure.
The forfaken Lover deſcribeth, and forfaketh Love.
O Lothſome place where I,
Have feene and heard my dere;
When in my hart her eye,
Hath made her thought appcre.
By glinfing with ſuch grace,
As fortune it ne woulde
That laſten any ſpace,
Between us longer thoulde.
As fortune did advance,
To further my de fire,
Even fo hath fortunes chaunce,
Throwen all ammiddes the myre.
And that I have defer ed,
With true and faithfull hart;
As to his handes referved,
That never felt the ſmart.
But happy is that man,
That fcapeth hath the griefe,
That love will feek him can,
By wanting his reliefe.
A fcourge to quiet myndes,
It is who taketh hede;
A common plague that byndes,
A travell without mede.
This gift it hath alfo,
Who fo enjoyes it moſt,
A thouſand troubles grow,
Yo vex his wearied ghoft.
And laſt it may not long,
The trucft thynge of all;
And fure the greateſt wronge,
That is within thys thrall.
But fince thou defert place,
Canft give me no accumpte;
Of my defyred grace,
That I to have was wont :
Farewell! thou haft me taughte,
To thinke me not the fyrfte,
That love hathe fet a loft,
And caften in the duft.
+ The bis
}
The Lover defcribes his reſtleſſe Eſtate.
As ofte as I beholde and fe,
The foveraigne beautie that me bounde,
The nier my comforte is to me,
Alas! the frefher is my wound.
As flame doth quench by rage of fire,
And running ftremes confumes by raine;
So doth the fight that I defire,
Appeafe my griefe and deadly paine.
Firft when I faw thofe chryftal ftremes,
Whole beauty made my mortall woundes,
I little thoughte within her beamcs,
So fwete a venom to be founde, -
$
SONGES AND SONETTE S.
603
!
}
Eut wilfull Will did pricke me forth,
And blinde Cupid did whippe and guyde;
Force made me take my grief in worth
My fruitleffe hope my harme did hide.
As cruel waves full oft be founde,
Againſt the rockes do rore and cry,
So doth my hart full oft rebound,
Against my breft ful bitterly.
I fall and fe mine own decay,
As one that beares flame in his breft;
Forgets in paine to put away,
The thinge that bredeth mine unreſt.
The Lover excufeth himſelf of ſuſpected change.
THOUGH I regarded not
The promiſe made by me,
Or paffed not to ſpot
My faith and honeſtie;
Yet were my fanſie ſtrange,
And wilful will to wite;
If I foughte now to change
A falkon for a kite.
All men might well difpraife
My wit and enterį riſe,
If I eſteemed a peſe
Above a pearle in price :
Or judged the owle in fight,
The fparhauke to excell;
Which flyeth but in the night
As all men know righte well.
Or if I fonghte to faile,
Into the brittle porte;
Where anker hold doth faile,
To fuch as do refort;
And leave the haven fure,
Where blowes no bluftring winde;
Nor fickeeneſſe in ure
So farforth as I finde.
No, think me not fo lighte,
Nor of fo churlith kinde,
Though it lay in my wighte,
My boundage to unbinde :
That I woulde leave the kinde
To hunt the ganders fo.
No, no, I have no minde
To make exchanges fo;
Nor yet to change at all,
For thinke it may not be,
That I fhoulde feke to fall
From my felicitie.
Defirous for to win,
And loth for to forgo,
Or new change to begin,
How may all this be fo?
The fire it cannot freſe,
For it is not his kinde;
Nor true love cannot lefe
The conftancye of minde:
Yet as fone fhall the fire,
Want heate to blafe and burne,
As I in fuch defire
Have once a thought to turne.
+
1
1
A Careleffe Man fcorning and deſcribing the futtle ufage
of Women towards their Lovers.
WRAPT in me careleffe cloke, as I walk to and
fro,
I fee how love can fhew what force there reign-
eth in his bow,
And how he fhoteth eke a harty hart to wound;
And where he glaunceth by again, that little burg
is found.
For feldme is it fene he wounde the harts alike;
The tone may rage, when tothers love is often
farre to feke :
All this I fee with more, and wonder thinketh me,
How he can ftrike the one fo fore, and leave the
other free;
I fce that wounded wight, that ſuffereth all this
wrong,
How he is fed with yeas and nays, and liveth al
to long
In filence, though I kepe fuch fecretes to my ſelf;
Yet do I fee how fhe fometime doth yelde a looke
by ſtelth,
As though it femde, ywis y will not lofe the fo.
When in her hart i fwete a thought did never
truly grow;
Then fay I thus, alas, that man is farre from bliſſe
That doth receive for his relief none other game
but this ;
And ſhe that fedes him fo, I fele and find it plain,
Is but to glory in her power, that over fuch can
raigne;
Nor are fuch graces fpent, but when the thinks
that he
4 wery man is fully bent fuch fancies to let flee,
Then to retaine him ftill, fhe wrefteth new her
grace;
And fmileth lo as though fhe woulde forthewith
the man embrace :
But when the proofe is made to try fuch lokes
withall,
He findeth then the place alvoide, and frighted
full of Gall :
Lord what abuſe is this! who can fuch women
praife?
That for theire glory do devife to ufe fuch craf-
[rowe,
ty ways:
I that amonge the reft, do fit and marke the
Find that in her is greater crafte then is in
twenty moe,
Whofe tender years, alas! with wiles fo wel are
fped,
What will the do, when hory heares, are plow-
dered in her hed?
An Anfwere in the behalf of a IVoman of an uncer=
tain duchor.
GIRT in my giltles gowne, as I fit here and fovv
I fee that thinges are not in dede as to the out-
warde fhow.
[what nure,
And who fo lift to loke, and note thinges fonc
604
THE WORKS OF SURREY,
Shal find wher plaineffe femes to haunt, nothing | A lyon faw I late as whyte as any fnowe,
but craft appear:
For with indifferent eyes my felf can well difcerne,
How fom to guide a thip in ſtormes feke for to
take the fterne;
Whoſe practice it were proued in calme to ftere a
barge,
Affuredly believ it well it were to great a charge :
And fome I fe again fit ftill and ſay but ſmall,
That coulde do ten times more then they that fay
they can do all;
Whofe goodly giftes are fuch, the more they
underſtand,
The more they feke to learne and know, and
take leſe charge in hand.
And to declare more plain the time fleets not fo
faft,
But I can bear full well in mind the fong now
fong and paſt,
The auctor whereof come wrapt in a crafty cloke,
With will to force a flaming fire, where he could
raife no ſmoke;
If power and will had joined, as it appereth plaine,
The truth no right had tane no place their ver-
rues had been vain,
So that you may perceive, and I may falfly fe
The innocent that giltleſſe is, condempned fhould
have be.
The Conflant Lover Lamenth.
SINS fortunes wrath envieth the welth
Wherein I raigned by the fight
Of that, that fed mine eyes by ftelth,
With fowre, fwete, dread and delight.
Let not my griefe move you to mone,
For I will wepe and waile alone.
Spite drave me into Boreas raigne,
Where hoary froſtes the fruites do bite,
When hills were ſpread, and every plaine
With ftormy winters mantle white,
And yet my dere fuch was my heate,
When others freaze then did I fweate.
And now, though on the funne I drive,
Whoſe fervent flame all thinges decaies,
His beames in brightneffe may not ſtrive,
With light of your fwete golden rayes;
Nor from my brefte this heate remove,
The frozen thoughtes graven by love.
He may the waves of the ſalt floode
Quench that your beautie fet on fyre,
For though myne eyes forbeare the foode,
That dyd relieve the hot defire:
Such as I was, fuch will I be,
Your owne, what woulde you more of me?
Which femed well to leade the race, his port the
fame did fhowe:
Upon the gentle beaft to gaze it pleaſed me,
For ftill me thoughte he feemed well of noble
bloud to be.
And as he praunced before, ſtill ſeeking for a make,
As who would fay, there is none here, I trowe
will me forfake;
I might perceive a woolfe as white as whales bone,
A fairer beaſte, of fresher hue beheld I never none,
Save that her lookes were coy, and froward ele
her grace,
Unto the whiche this gentle beaft gan him avaunce
apace.
And with a becke full lowe he bowed at her feete,
In humble wife, as who woulde fay, I am too
farre unmeete.
But fuch a fcornfull chere wherewith the him
rewarded,
Was never feene I trowe the like to fuch as well
deferved.
With that ſhe ſtart afyde wellneere a foot or twaine,
And unto him thus gan fhe fay with fpyte and
great difdaine,
Lyon fhe faide, if thou hadeft known my mind
before,
Thou hadst not ſpent thy travaile thus, nor all
thy paine for lore,
[me,
Do way I lete thee, wete thou fhalt not play with
Go range about, where thou maiſt finde fome
meter fere for thee.
With that he bet his tayle, his eyes began to flame,
I might perceive his noble heart, much moved by
the fame.
Yet faw I him refrayne, and eke his wrath affwage,
And unto her thus gan he fay, when he was pat
his rage.
Cruel you do me wronge, to fet me thus fo lighte,
Without defert for my good will, to fhew me
thus defpyte;
How can ye thus entreate a lyon of the race,
That with his pawes, a crowned kynge devoured
in the place.
Whofe nature is to prey upon no fimple foode,
As long as he may fucke the flesh, and drink of
noble bloud.
If you be fayre and freſh, am I not of your huc,
And for my vaunt I dare well fay, my bloud is
not untrue,
For you yourself have heard, it is not long agoe,
Sith that for love, one of the race dyd end his
life in wo.
In tower ſtrong, and hye for his affured truth,
Whereas in tears he spent his breath, alas the
more the ruth.
Thys gentle beafte fo dyed, whom nothing could
[love.
But willingly to leefe hys life for lofs of his true
remove,
A Song written by the Earle of SURREY, by a Lady Other there be, whofe lives do linger ſtill in payne,
that refuſed to Dounce with him.
ECHE beaft can chooſe his fere according to his
mynde,
And eke can fhewe a friendly chere lyke to their
beaftly kynde;
Againſt their wills preferved are, that woulde
have dyed fayne.
But now I do perceive, that nought it moveth you,
My good entent my gentle heart, nor yet my
kinde fo true.
SONGES AND
605
SONETTE S.
But that your will is ſuch, to lure me to the trade,
And other fome full many yeres to trace by craft
ye made.
And thus behold our kyndes how that we differ
farre,
I feek my foes, and you your frendes do threten
ftill with warre.
I faune where I am fed, you flay, that fekes to you,
I can devour no yelding prey, you kill where you
fubdue.
My kind is to defire the honour of the feild,
And you with bloud do flake your thyrſte on ſuch
as to you yelde:
Wherefore I woulde you wiſte, that for your coy-
ed lookes,
I am no man that will be trapt, nor tangled with
fuch hookes.
And though ſome luft to love, where blamefull well
they might,
And to fuch beaftes of current fort, that would
have travail bright;
I will obferve the lawe, that nature gave to me,
To conquer fuch as will refift, and let the reſt go
free:
And as a faulcon free, that foreth in the ayre,
Which never fed on hand nor lure, nor for no ftale
doth care.
While that I live and breathe, fuch fhall my cuf-
tome be,
In wildness of the woodes, to feek my prey where
pleaſeth me:
Where many one ſhall rue, that never made offence,
Thus your refufe againft my power, fhall bote
them no defence.
And for revenge thereof, I vow and fwear thereto,
A thouſand ſpoyles I fhall commyt, I never thought
to doe.
And if to lyght on you my luck fo good fhall be,
I ſhall be glad to feed on that, that would have
fed on me.
And thus farewelle unkynd, to whom I bent and
bowe,
I would you wift, the fhip is fafe, that bare his
fayles fo lowe.
Sith that a lyons hart, is for a wolfe no preye,
With bloody inouthe go flake your thirft on fimple
fhepe I fay.
With more defpyte and ire, than I can now ex-
preffe,
Which to my payne, though I refrayn, the cauſe
you may well gueſs.
As for becauſe my felf was auctour of the fame,
It bootes me not that for my wrath, I fhoulde
diſturbe the fame.
2
Th
The faithfull Lover declareth his Paynes and h's un-
certaine Joys, and with onely hope recomfort fome-
what his wofull beart.
!r care do cauſe men crye, why do not I com-
playne
If eche man do bewaile his wo, why fhew I not
my payne?
Synce that amongſt them all, I dare well ſay is none;
So farre from weal, fo full of woe, or hath more
cauſe to mone.
For all thinges haveing life, ſometime hath quiet
reft,
[beaſt :
The bearing affe, the drawing oxe, and every other
The peaſant, and the poft, that ferves at all affayes,
The ſhip boy, and the galley flave, have time to
take their eaſe.
Save I, alas! whom care of force doth fo conftrayne,
To wale the day, and wake the night, continually
in payne.
From penſiveneſs to plaint, from plaint to bitter
teares,
From teares, to paynfull playnt againe, and thus
my life it weares.
Nothyng under the fun, that I can heare or fee,
But moveth me for to bewayle my cruel deftyny.
For where men do rejoyce (fince that I cannot fo)
I take no pleaſure in that place, it doubleth but
my woe.
And when I hear the found of fong or inftrument
Methinke eche tune there dolefull is, and helps,
me to lament;
And if I fee ſome have theyre moſt defyred ſyghte,
Alas! thynke I, eche man hath weale fave I moſt
wofull wyghte.
Then as the ftricken deere, withdrawes himſelf
alone,
So do I feeke fome fecret place, where I may make
my moane.
There do my flowing eyes fhew fourthe my melt-
ting hart,
So the ftremes of thoſe two welles, right well de-
clare my fmart.
And in those cares fo could I force my felf a heate,
As ficke men in theyr fhaking fittes procure them-
felfe to fweate.
With thoughtes that for the tyme do much ap-
peaſe my payne,
But yet they cauſe a farther feare, and brede my
[appere
wo agayne.
Methinke within my thought I fee right playne
My hartes delight, my forowes lethe, myne earthly
goddeffe here,
With every fundry grace that I have feene her have,
Thus I within my wofull breft her picture paynt
and grave;
And in my thought i role her beauties too and fro,
Her laughing chere, her lively looke, my heart
that perced fo.
Her ftrangenes when I fued her fervaunt for to be,
And what the fayde, and how the fmylde, when
that the pitied me.
Then comes a fodyane feare that rueth all my reft,
Left abfence caule forgetfulnes to finke within
[divyde,
her breft.
For when I thinke how farre this earth doth us
Alas, me femes love throws me downe, I fele how
that I flide:
But when I thinke agayne, why ſhould I thus mif-
truft,
[juſt.
So fwete a wight, fo fad and wife, that is fo true and
For loth fhe was to love, and wavering is the nor,
The farther off the more defyrde, thus lovers tye
theyr knot;
606
THE WORKS OF SURREY.
So in difpayre and hoape plunged am I both up
and downe,
As is the fhip with wind and wave, when Nep-
tune lift to frowne.
But as the watery fhowers delay the raging wind,
So doth good hoape cleane put away difpayre out
of my mynde;
And byddes for to ferve and fuffer patiently,
For what wot I the after weale that fortune wiles
to me.
For thoſe that care do knowe, and tafted have of
trouble,
When paffed is theyr wofull payne, eche joy fhall
feme them double :
And bytter ſendes, fhe now to make me taſte the
better,
The pleaſant fwete when that it comes to make it
feem the fweter.
And fo determine I to ferve until my breath,
Yea rather dye a thouſand times than once to falſe
my fayth.
And if my coole corps through weight of wofull
fmart,
[hart,
Do fayle or faint, my will it is that ſtill fhe kepe my
And when this carcas here to earth fhall be refard,
I do bequeath my weried ghoft to ferve her after-
ward.
|
Hoapeth amendes, in fwete, doth feare the fower,
God that ſendeth, withdraweth winter ſharpe,
No will not aye thus, once Phebus to lowre,
With bowe unbent, fhall ceffe and frame to harp,
His voyce in ftrayte eſtate appeare thou ftoute
And fo wifely, when lucky gale of winde
All thy pult fayles fhall fill, looke well about,
Take in a rift, haft is waft, proofe dothe finde.
Praifes of certain Pfalmes of David tranflated by Sir
T. W. the elder.
THE great Macedon, that out of Perfia chaſed
Darius, of whofe huge powers all Afie rong,
In the riche arke Dan Homers rimes he placed,
Wo feigned geftes of heathen princes ſong,
What holy grave, what worthy fepulchre
To Wyates pfalms fhould Chriſtians then purchaſe ;
Where he doth paint the lyvely faith and pure,
The ftedfaft hope the fweete returne to grace.
Of juſt David by perfite penitence,
Where rulers may fee in a myrrour clear,
The bytter fruite of falfe concupiſcence,
How Jewry bought Urias death ful deare.
In princes hartes Gods fcourge emprinted depe,
Ought them awake out of their finfull ſlepe.
The meanes to atlayne happy Life.
MARTIALL the thinges that doe attayne
The happy lyfe, be thefe I fynde,
The riches left, not got with payne,
The fruitfull grounde, the quiet mynde,
The egall frend no grudge no flriſe,
No charge of rule nor governaunce;
Without diſeaſe the healthful lyfe,
The houfhold of continuance.
The meane dyet no delicate fare,
True wifdome joynde with fimpleneffe ;
The night difcharged of all care,
Where wine the witte may not oppreſſe.
The faithfull wyfe without debate,
Such flepe as may beguile the night,
Contented with thine owne eſtate,
Ne with for death, ne feare his might.
Pravfe of meane and conflant efiate.
Or thy lyfe Thomas, this compaffe well marke
Not aye with full failes the hye feas to beate,
Ne by coward dfed, in fhonning ftormes darke,
On fhallowe ſhores thy keel in perill fret.
Who fo gladly halfeth the golden meane,
Voide of daungers adviſedly hath his home,
Not with lothfome mucke as a den uncleane,
Nor palace like, whereat difdayne may glome.
The lofty pyne the great wind often rives,
With violenter fwey falne turrets ſtepe,
Lightnings affaure the high mountaines and clives,
A hart well ftayde, in overthwartes depe,
Of the Death of the fame Sir T. W.
DIVERS thy death do dyverfly bemone,
Some that in preſence of thy livelihed
Lurked, whoſe breftes envy with hate had fwolne,
Yield Ceafars feares upon Pompeus hed,
Some that watched with the murderers knife,
With eager thyrft to drinke thy giltleſſe blood,
Whofe practife brake by happy end of lyfe,
With envious teares to heare thy fame fo good,
But I, that knew what harbred in that hed
What vertues rare were tempred in that breſt,
Honour the place that fuch a jewel tred,
And kiffe the ground wheras the corps doth reſt,
With vapourd eyes, from whence fuch treames
avayle,
As Pyramus did on Thiſbes breft bewayle.
Of the fame.
WYAT refteth here, that quicke could never reft,
Whofe heavenly gyftes encreafeth by diſdayne,
And vertue fanke the deper in his breft.
Such profit he by envy could obtayn.
A hed, where wildotne mifiteries did frame,
Whole hammers bet ftyll in that lively braine,
As on a flythe, where that fome worke of fame
Was dayly wrought, to turn to Britaines gayne.
A vifage fterne, and milde, where both did
growe,
Vyce to contemne, in virtue to rejoyce:
Amyd great flormes, whom grace affured fo,
To live upright, and fmile at fortunes choyce.
SONGES AND SONETTE S.
607
A hand, that taught what might be fayd in ryme
That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit.
A marke, the which (unparfited, for time)
Some may approche, but never none fhall hit.
A tong, that ferved in forein realmes his king,
Whofe courteous talke to vertue did inflame,
Eche noble hart, a woorthy guyde to bring
Our Engliſh youth, by travayle unto fame.
An eye whofe judgment none affect could blind,
Friendes to allure and foes to reconcyle;
Whoſe piercing looke did reprefent a mynde
With vertue fraught, repofed voyde of guyle.
A hart, where dreade was never fo impreſt,
To hyde the thought, that might the trouth avaunce
In neyther fortune loft, nor yet repreft,
To fwell in welth, or yield unto miſchaunce,
A valiant corps, where force and beauty met,
Happy, alas! too happy, but for foes,
Lived, and ran the race, that nature fet,
Of manhodes ſhape, where the the mold did lofe.
But when to the heavens that fimple foule is fled
Which left with fuch, as covet Chriit to knowe,
Witneſs of faith, that never fhal be dead;
Sent for our health, but not received fo.
Thus for our gilt, this jewel have we loſt,
The earth his bones, the heavens poffeile his ghoft.
Of the fame.
In the rude age when knowledge was not ryfe,
If Jove in Crete and other were that taught,
Arts to convert to profite of our lyfe,
Wend after death to have theyr temples fought,
If vertue yet no voyde unthankfull tymes,
Fayled of fome to blaſt her endlefs fame,
A goodly meane both to deterre from crime,
And to our steppes our fequele to enflame:
In dayes of truth if Wyates frendes them wayle,
The only det that dead or quick may clayme,
That rare wit fpent, employed to our avayle,
Where Chrift is taught we led to vertues trayne.
His lively face their breaſtes how did it freat,
Whoſe cyndres yet, with envy they do eate.
Of Sardanapalus diſbonorable life, and miferable death.
THASSIRIAN king in peace, with foule defyre,
And filthy luftes, that ftaynde his regall hart.
Ju warre that ſhould fet princely heartes, on fyre,
Did yeld, vanquifht for want of marcial arte,
The dynt of fwordęs from kiffes femed ſtrange,
And harder, than his ladies fyde, his targe,
From glutton feaftes, to fouldiers fare, a change,
His helmet, farre above a garlandes charge,
Who fcafe the name of manhood did retaine,
Drenched in flouth, and womanniſh delight,
Feble of ſprite, impacient of payne,
When he had loft his honour, and his right
Proud time of wealth, in ftormes appalled with
dread,
Murthered himfelfe, to fhewe fome manfall dedc.
How no age is content with his ozune eftate, and bow the
age of Children is the happieft if they had ſkill to
underland it.
LAYD in my quiet bed, in ftady as I were
I ſaw within my troubled head, a heap of thoughts
appear,
And every thought did fhew fo lyvely in myne
eyes,
That now I fight, and then I fmilde, as cauſe of
thoughts did ryſe.
I fawe the little boy, in thought how oft that he
Did withe of God, to fcape the rod, a tall young
man to be,
The young man eake that feles his bones with
paines oppreft
How he would be a riche old man, to live and
lye at reft?
[fore,
The riche olde man that fees his end draw on fo
How he would be a boy againe to live fo much
the more.
[three,
Whereat full cft I fmylde, to fee how all thoſe
From boy to man, from man to boy, would chop.
And mufing thus, I think, the cafe is very ſtrange,
and change degree.
That man from wealth, to live in wo, doth ever
feke to change,
Thus thoughtfull as I lay, I fawe my withered ſkyn,
How it doth fhew my dented chewes, the fleſh
was worn fo thin,
And eke my totheleſs chaps, the gates of my right
That
way,
opes and fhuttes, as I do fpeak, do thus unto
me fay;
The white and horifh heres, the meffengers of age,
That fhew like lines of true belief, that this life
doth affuage,
Biddes the lay hand, and feele them hanging on
thy chin.
The whiche doth write to ages paft, the third now
coming in,
[tyme,
Hang up therefore the bitte, of thy yong wanton
And thou that therein beaten art, the happiest life
defyne:
[toye,
Whereat I fighed, and fayde, farewell my wonted
Truffe up thy packe, aud trudge from me to every
little boy,
And tell them thus from me, their time moft hap-
py is,
If to theyr time they reafon had, to know the
truth of this.
Bonum eft mibi quod humiliafti me.
THE formes are paft, thefe clouds are over blowne,
And humble chere, great vigour hath repreft,
For the defaulte is fet apayne for knowne,
And patience graft in a determed breſt.
And in the heart where heapes of griefes were
growne
The fwete revenge has planted mirth and reft,
No company to pleafant as mine owne,
608
595
THE WORKS OF SURREY,
?
Thraldom at large, hath made this priſon free,
Danger well paſt remembred workes delight,
Of lingering doubles fuche hope is fprong pardie,
That nought I finde diſpleaſant in my fight,
But when my glaffe preſented unto me,
'The cureleſs wound that bledith day and night,
To think (alas) fuch hap fhould graunted be;
Unto a wretch that hath ſo oft been fhed,
For Britannes fake (alas) and now is ded.
Exhortation to learne by others trouble.
My Ratclif, when thy recheleſſfe youth offendes,
Receive thy scourge by others chaſtiſement,
For fuch calling, when it woorkes none amendes
Then plages are ſent without advertiſement;
Yet Salomon fayd, the wronged fhall recure,
But Wyat faid true, the fearre doth aye endure.
The fanfie of a wearied Lover.
The fanfy, which that I have ſerved long,
That hath alway been enemy to myne cafe,
Semed of late to rue upon my wrong,
And badde me flye the caufe of my mifcafe.
And I furthwith did preaſe out of the throng,
That thought by flight my painfull heart to pleaſe
Some other way, till I faw faith more ſtrong,
And to my ſelf I faid, alas, thofe dayes
In vain were ſpent, to runne the race fo long.
And with that thought, I met my guyde, that
plaine,
Out of the way wherein I wandered wrong,
Brought me amiddes the hilles in baſe Bullayne,
Wherein I am now, as reſtlefs to remayn,
Againſt my will, full pleaſed with my payn.
DIDO AND AENEAS GOING TO THE FIELD.
609
DIDO AND AENEAS GOING TO THE FIELD
TRANSLATED FROM THF FOURTH BOOK OF VIRGIL'S ENEIDE.
Ar the threshold of her chamber dore
The Carthage lords did on the quene atrend;
The trampling fteed, with gold and purple
trapt,
Chawing the foaming bit ther fercely ſtood.
Then iffued fhe, awayted with great train,
Clad in a cloke of Tyre embroider'd rich.
Her quiver hung behind her back, her treffe
Knotted in gold, her purple veſture eke
Buttned with gold. The Trojans of her train
Before her go, with gladfome lulus,
Eneas eke, the goodlieft of the route,
Makes one of them, and joyneth clofe the throng.
Like when Apollo leaveth Lycia,
His wintring place, and Xanthus' flood likewife
To vifit Delos, his mother's manſion,
Repairing eft and furniſhing her quire:
The Candians and the folke of Driopes
With painted Agathyrfies, fhoute and crye,
Environing the altars round about;
When that he walkes upon Mount Cynthus' top
His fparkled treffe repreft with garlandes fofte,
Of tender leaves, and truffed up in golde;
His quivering darts clattering behind his backe.
So fresh and luftie did Æneas feme-
But to the hills and wild holtes when they came,,
From the rockes top the driver favage rofe.
Loe from the hills above, on thother fide,
Through the wide lawns thy gan to take their
courfe.
The hartes likewife, in troops taking their flight,
Rayfing the duft, the mountain faſt forfake.
The childe Iulus, blithe of his ſwift fteede
Amids the plain, now pricks by them, now
thefe;
And to encounter, wifheth oft in minde,
The foming boar infteede of fearful beaſts,
Or lion browne, might from the hill defcend.
DIDO'S PASSION, AND ITS EFFECTES ON THE RYSINGE CITIE,
FROM THE SAME BOOK.
AND when they all were gone,
Afcanius, trapped by his father's forme.
And the dimme moon doth efte withold her light; So to begile the love cannot be told!
And fliding ſtarres provoked unto flepe,
Alone the mourns within her palace voide,
And fits her downe on her forsaken bed:
And abfent him the heares, when he is gone,
And feeth eke. Oft in her cuppe fhe holdes
The turrettes now arize not, erft begonne :
Neither the youth welde arms, nor they avance
The portes, nor other mete defence for warr.
Broken there hang the workes, and myhty frame
Of walles high railed, thretening the ſkie,
* This and the two following pieces, are now printed, for the firſt time, among Surrey's Poems
VOL. I.
4
Qq
$10
THE WORKS OF SURREY.
+
Over the tomb of Thomas Clere, Efq., in Lamb.th Church, was formerly a
tablet with the following epitaph, written by the Earl of Surrey.
EPITAPI
PITAPHIUM THOME CLERE, qui fato functus | Shelton for love, Surrey for Lord thou chaſe,
eft 1545, auctore Henrico Howard comite Surri- |
enfi, in cujus felicis ingenii fpecimen & fingularis
facundiæ argumentum appenfa fuit, hæc tabula
W. Howard, filium Thomæ nuper Ducis Norf.
filii ejufdem Henrici comitis Surrienfis.
per
Norfolke fprung thee, Lambeth holds thee dead,
Clere of the Count of Cleremont thou hight,
Within the womb of Ormond's race thou bred,
And faweft thy cofin crowned in thy fight;
Aye me while life did laſt that league was tendeṛ
Tracing whofe fteps thou faweft Kelfall blaze,
Launderiey burnt and batter'd Bulleyn's render,
At Muttrell gates hopeleſs of all recure
Thine Earl half dead, gave in thy hand his will,
Which caufe did thee this pining death procure
Ere fummers four times feven thou couldſt fulfill
Aye Clere, if love had booted care or coft
Heaven had not wonne, nor earth fo timely loft.
·
THE
POETICAL WORKS
OF
SIR THOMAS WYAT.
Containing his
SONNETS,
1
EPISTLES,
IMITATIONS,
TRANSLATIONS,
Va. Wc. Ta
To which is prefixed
THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.
They with the Muſes who converſed, were
That princely SURREY, early in the time
Of the Eight Henry, who was then the prime
Of England's noble youth. With him there came
WYAT, with reverence whom we ſtill do name
Amongst our poets: BRYAN had a fhare
With the two former, which accounted are
The time's beſt makers, and the authors were
Of thoſe ſmall poems which the title bear
Of Songes and Sonnettes, wherein oft they hit
On many dainty paffages of wit.
DRAYTON'S ELEGY TO REYNOLDS
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY MUNDELL AND SON, ROYAL BANK CLOSE,
Anno 1793.
THE LIFE OF WYAT.
SIR THOMAS WYAT was the fon of Henry Wyat, Efq. of Allington Caſtle, in Kent, where he
was born, in the year 1503. He is commonly called the elder, to diftinguish him from his fon, of
the fame name, who raiſed a rebellion in the reign of Queen Mary.
He received the rudiments of his education at Cambridge, and afterwards went to Oxford, where
he completed his ftudies: But his chief and moft fplendid accomplishments were derived from his
travels into various parts of Europe, which he frequently viſited in the quality of an envoy.
He was the contemporary and friend of the accompliſhed and high-ſpirited Earl of Surrey. A
fimilarity, or rather fameneſs of taſte and of purſuits, as it is a proof, ſo perhaps it was the chief ce-
ment of that inviolable friendſhip which fubfifted between them.
His wit and popular accompliſhments rendered him one of the brilliant ornaments of the court of
King Henry the Eighth, which at leaſt affected to be polite; and as Henry did not always act from
cruelty and caprice, he was endeared to him, for his fidelity and fuccefs in the execution of public
buſineſs, his ſkill in arms, literature, familiarity with languages, and lively converſation.
Wood, who degrades every thing by poverty of ftyle, fays, that "the king was in a high manner
delighted with his witty jefts." He is reported to have occafioned the Reformation by a joke, and to
have planned the fall of Cardinal Wolfey by a ſeaſonable ſtory.
But he had almoft loft his popularity, either from an intimacy with Queen Anne Boleyn, which
was called a connection, or the gloomy cabals of Biſhop Bonner, who could not bear his political
fuperiority.
Yet his prudence and integrity, no less than the powers of his oratory, juftified his innocence.
He laments his fevere and unjuſt impriſonment, on that occaſion, in a fonnet addreſſed to the brave
and accompliſhed Sir Francis Bryan; infinuating his folicitude, that although the wound would be
healed, the fear would remain; and that to be acquitted of the accufation, would avail but little,
while the thoughts of having been accufed were ſtill freſh in his remembrance.
He recovered his liberty and the king's favour, and was wife enough not to interrupt his pleaſures,
his convenience, or his ambition; but ſpent much of his time at Allington Caſtle, which he magni-
ficently repaired "for the reception," fays Jacob, "of one of his noble ſpirit and refined taſte of
life; which were more fuperior to his anceſtors than his ſtately manſion, by the coſtly reparations,
cxceeded the ancient ſtructure.”
In one of his epiftles to Poines, on the life of a courtier, his execration of flatterers and courtiers is
contraſted with an entertaining picture of his own private life and rural enjoyments at Allington
Caftle.
This is the cauſe that I could never yet
Hang on their fleeves, that weigh, as thou maift fee,
A chip of chaunce more than a pound of wit;
This maketh me at home to hunt and hawke,
And in fowle wether at my booke to fit;
In froft and fnowe then with my bow to ftalke;
No man doth marke wherefo I ride or go;
In lufty leas at liberty I walke:
And of theſe newes I fele no weale nor wo,
܂
Save that a clogge doth hang yet at my hele;
No forfe for that, for it is ordered fo,
That I may leape both hedge and dike ful wele.
Q q iij
BIA
THE LIFE OF WYAT.
I am not now in Fraunce, to judge the wine, &c.
But I am here in Kent and Chriſtendome,
Among the mufes, where I reade and rime.
The "clogge" he complains of, probably alludes to fome office which he ſtill held at court, and
which fometimes recalled him, but not too frequently, from the country.
It is a common mistake of his biographers, that he died abroad of the plague, in an embaffy to
Charles the Fifth. Being fent to conduct that emperor's embaffador from Falmouth to London, from
too eager and a needlefs defire of executing his commiffion with diſpatch and punctuality, he caught
a fever, by riding in a hot day; and in his return, died on the road at Sherborn, in the year 1541,
in the 38th year of his age; and was buried in the great abbey church of that place.
The next year, Leland publiſhed a book of Latin verfes on his death, intitled, Næniæ in mortem
T. Viati, with a wooden print of his head, after a painting of Holbein, and the following elegant
inſcription under the head:
Holbenus nitida pingendi maximus arte,
Effigiem expreffit graphice, fed nullus Apelles
Exprimet ingenium felix, animumque Viati.
His poems were printed by Tottell, in his editions of Surrey's poems, of 1559 and 1565, under the
title of the Songes and Sonnettes of Sir Thomas Wyat the elder, and reprinted, with the poems of Surrey,
by Dr. Sewel, in 1717; and are now admitted, for the first time, into a collection of claffical En-
gliſh poetry.
The poetical pieces of Wyat, and his friend Surrey, were in high reputation with their contempo
raries, and for many years afterwards. They are thus characterised by Puttenham, the author of
the old "Art of English Poefie," whofe opinion remained long as a rule of criticiſm: "In the lat-
ter end of the fame kinge's (Henry's) raigne, fpronge up a new company of wit makers, of whom
Sir Thomas Wyat the elder, and Henry Earle of Surrey, were the two chieftaines; who having tra-
vailed into Italie, and there tafted the fweete and ftately meaſures and ftyle of the Italian poefie, as
novifes newly crept out of the fchooles of Dante, Ariofto, and Petrarch, they greatly poliſhed our rude
and homely manner of vulgar poefie from that it had been before, and for that cauſe may justly be
fayd the first reformers of our English meetre and ftyle." And again," Henry Earl of Surrey, and
Sir Thomas Wyat, between whom I find very little difference, I repute them (as before) for the two
chief lanternes of light to all others that have fince employed their pennes upon Engliſh poeſie:
Their conceits were lofty, their ſtyles ſtately, their conveyance cleanly, their terms proper, their mee-
tre ſweet, and well proportioned; in all, imitating very naturally aud ftudiouſly their maifter, Fran-
cis Petrarch." P. 48-50. Edit. 1589.
Leland is lavish in his praife, and fcruples not to compare him to Dante and Petrarch:
Let Florence fair her Dante justly boaſt,
And royal Rome her Petrarcb's number'd feet;
In English Wyat, both of them doth coaft,
In whom all graceful eloquence doth meet.
In Surrey's elegy on the death of Wyat, his character is delineated in the following nervous and
manly quatraines:
A vifage fterne and mild, where both did growe;
Vice to contemne, in vertue to rejoyce ;
Amid great formes, whom grace affured fo
To live upright, and fmile at fortune's choyce.
L
A
1
THE LIFE OF WYAT.
635
}
A toung that ferved in forein realmes his king,
Whofe courteous talk to vertue did enflame
Eche noble heart; a worthy guide to bring
Our English youth by travail unto fame;
An cye, whofe judgment none affect could blind;
Friend to allure, and foes to reconcile;
Whoſe perfing look did repreſent a minde
With virtue fraught, repofed, void of gile.
A hart, where dreade was never fo impreft
To hide the thought that might the truth advance ;
In neither fortune loft, nor yet repreſt,
To fwell in welth, or yeld unto mifchance
Thy fame, great Wyat, fhall by all be read;
What vertues rare were temper'd in thy breaſt!
Honour that England fuch a jewel bred,
And kifs the ground whereon thy corpfe did reft.
It will be fuperfluous to tranfcribe the panegyrics of his contemporaries, after thie ercomium of
Surrey, in which his amiable character owes more to truth than to the graces of poetry, or to the
flattery of friendſhip.
It is mentioned, to his honour, by Puttenham, that he co-operated with Surrey in correcting the
roughness of our poetic ftyle. He certainly deferves equally of pofterity with Surrey for the dili-
gence with which he cultivated elegant literature. But in his poetical capacity, he feems to have
wanted the judgment of his friend Surrey, who, in imitating Petrarch, refifted the contagion of his
conceits. He has more imitations, and even tranflations from the Italian poets, than Surrey; and he
feems to have been more fond of their conceits. He is confeffedly inferior to him in harmony of
numbers, perfpicuity of expreffion, and facility of phrafeology. Nor is he equal to him in elegance
of ſentiment, in nature and ſenſibility. His feelings are difguiſed by affectation, and obſcured by fan-
taftic incongruities. His declarations of paflion are enibarraffed by wit and fancy; and his ftyle is
not intelligible, in proportion as it is carelefs and unadorned.
His chief meritis of the moral and didactic kind. His poems abound more in good ſenſe, fatire, and
obfervations on life, than in pathos and imagination. Yet there is a degree of lyric fweetnefs in the
lincs to his lute, in which the lover complaineth the unkindness of his love; and in the little ode, or rather
epigram on his return from Spain into England, there is great fimplicity and propriety, together
with a ſtrain of poetic allufion. In the fatiric vein of his epifles to Poines and Bryan, there is much
of the familiar elegance of Horace; a ftyle of writing which Cowper has caught with great fuccefs,
in his "Table Talk," &c. &c.
Among Wyat's poems, is an unfinished tranflation, in Alexandrian verfe, of the fong of Jopas, in
the first book of Virgil's Æneid. Wyat's and Surrey's verfions from Virgil, are the first regular
tranſlations in Engliſh of an ancient claffical poet. A verfion of David's Pfalms, by Wyat, is highly
extolled by Surrey and Leland. But Wyat's verſion of the Penitential Pfalms, ſeems to be a feparate
work from his tranflation of the whole pfaltery; and probably that which is praiſed by Surrey, in
the ode, intituled, Praife of certaine Pfalmes of David,tranflated by Sir Thomas Iyat the slder. They were
printed in 1549. But this verfion, with that of Surrey, mentioned in his life, is now loft. The
character of Wyat has received every poffible illuftration from Lord Orford and Mr. Warton; after
whofe difcriminating touches, every ſtroke from a caſual hand muſt ferve rather to injure than im-
prove the likeness:
"It was from the capricious and over-ftrained invention of the Italian poets," fays Mr. Warton," that
Wyat was taught to torture the paflion of love, by prolix and intricate compariſons, and unnatural
allufions. I am of opinion, that he miſlock his talents, when in compiance with the mode, he be-
q q iiij
616
THE LIFE OF WYAT.
came a fonnetteer; and, if we may judge from a few inftances, that he was likely to treat any other
fubject with more fuccefs than that of love. His abilities were feduced and mifapplicd, in fabricat-
ing fine fpeeches to an obdurate miftrefs. He appears a much more pleafing writer, when he moralifes
on the felicities of retirement, and attacks the vanities and viccs of a court, with the honeft indigna-
tion of an independent philofopher, and the freedom and pleafantry of Horace. Three of his epif-
tles are profeffedly written in this ftrain; and we must regret, that he has not left more pieces in a
ftyle of compofition for which he feems to have been eminently qualitied."
To the poems of Surrey and Wyat, are annexed, in Tottell's edition, thofe of Uncertaine Auctours.
Many of thefe pieces are much in the manner of Surrey and Wyat, which was the fafhion of the
times. They are all anonymous; but probably Sir Francis Bryan, George Boleyn Earl of Roch-
ford, and Lord Vaux, contemporary rhymers and fonnetteers, were large contributers. Two of them,
intituled, The Aged Lover renounceth Love, in which are three ftanzas of the grave-digger's fong in
Shakeſpear's Hamlet, and The Affaulte of Cupide, &c. are the undoubted production of Lord Vaux;
a man of marvellous facility in vulgar making."
The merit of fome of thofe pieces is fo confiderable, as to justify a felection; and the reader
owes to the compiler of thefe narratives, whatever pleaſure or difgult he may have in finding a ſpeci-
men of the first printed poetical mifcellany in the English language in this collection.
What has pleafed himself, he has undertaken to recommend to others; and as fenfe and genius
are not wanting in the pieces he has endeavoured to preferve, it will not be fo much the fault of
the writers, as of the the language, if they are not read with pleaſure.
The ftanzas, intituled, A Praife of bis Ladie, have that elegance which refults from fimplicity. The
thoughts fupport themſelves, without the affectations of language; and the compliments are fuch.as
would not difgrace the gallantry or the poetry of a polished age. Puttenham fpeaks highly of the
"counterfait action" in Lord Vaux's Alfaulte of Cupide; but there is more poetry in fome of the old
pageants, than in the contrivance of the allegory of this piece. In the little ode intitled of his mij-
ires M. B. much pretty defcription and imagination is built on the circumftance of a lady being
named Bayes. Harpalus's complaint of Philtidac's love leflowed on Corin, is perhaps the firſt example in
our language now remaining of the pure unmixed paftoral; and for eaſe of numbers, elegance of ru-
ral alluſion, and fimplicity of imagery, excells every thing of the kind in Spenfer, who is erroneouſly
ranked as our earlicft English bucolic. In the pocm, intituled, That all things fometime finde eafe of their
paine, fave only the lover, fome of the flanzas deſerve attention for their fimple beauty and native for ce
of expreffion. In the ode, in which. The lover in deſpair lamenteib Lis cafe, there is more pathos and feel-
ing than in any other piece of the whole collection. The epigram, Of a new married fludent, who
was purſuing his ſtudies ſucceſsfully, but in the midſt of his literary career, married unfortunately,
contains a gencral joke on an unhappy match. It is, perhaps, the firft pointed epigram in the En-
glish language; and may have fallen from the pen of Sir Thomas More, one of the beſt jokers of
that age. In the elegant little ode, intituled, The Lover that once difdained love, &c. are the two lines faid
to be written by Mary Queen of Scots, in a window, at Fotheringay caftle.
From the toppe of all my trust,
Miſhap hath throwen me in the duft.
The unfortunate queen only quoted a diflich applicable to her fituation, which the remembered in
a fathionable collection of poems, perhaps the amuſement of her youth. With the Songes and Sonnettes
of Uncertain Au&ours, the original editor has printed Songes written by N. G, the initials of Nicholas
Grimoald, who is the fecond Engliſh poet after Surrey that wrote in blank verfe; to which he added
new frength, elegance, and modulation. As a writer of verfe in rhyme he yields to none of his
contemporaries, for a mafterly choice of chafte expreffion, and the concife elegancies of didactic
verfification, Iis poem in Praiſe of Meaſure keeping has all the ſmartneſs which belongs to the mo-
dern flyle of fententious poetry. The ftanzas on the Nine Nirfes are more poetical, and not lefs correct.
His poemas on the Death of Cicero, and the Death of Zorcas, are impregnated almoſt throughout by a
warmth of imagination, and the fpirit of pathetic poetry.
It would be unpardonable to difmifs the poetical works of Wyat unaccompanied by thoſe ad-
mirable fpecimens of ancient genius, for which English literature is highly indebted to Richard Tot-
tell, who, at a critical period, collected and preferved them from the general depredations of time,
in a printed volume.
SONGES AND
AND SONETTES.
The lover for foamefafinefe bideth bis defire within his And pardoned me, fins that I me repent,
faithful beart.
THE long love, that in my thought I harber
And in my heart doth kepe his refidence,
Into my face preaſeth with bold pretence,
And there campeth, difplaying his banner;
She that me learnes to love, and to ſuffer,
And willes that my trust and luftes negligence
Be reyned by reaſon, fhame, and reverence
With his hardineffe takes difpleaſure,
Wherewith love to the hartes foreft be fleeth,
Leaving his enterprife with paine and crye,
And there him hideth and not appeareth,
What may I do? when my maiſter feareth,
But in the field with him to live and dye,
For good is the lyfe, ending faithfully.
The lover waxeth wyfor, and will not dye for affec-
tion.
YET was I never of your love agreved,
Nor never fhall, whyle that my life doth laſt ;
But of hating my felf, that date is paſt,
And tears continual fore hath me weried:
I will not yet in my greave be buried,
Nor on my tombe your name have fixed faft,
As cruel cauſe, that did my fprite foon haft,
From th' unhappie bones by great fyghes ftyred;
Then if an heart of amorous faith and will
Content your mind withouten doing grief,
Pleaſe it you ſo to this to do relief,
If otherwyfe you feke for to fulfyll
Your wrath, you erre, and ſhal not as you wene,
And you your felf the cauſe thereof have bene.
The abufed lover feeth his foly, and interds:h to truft no
Was never fyle yet half fo well yfyled,
To fyle a fyle for any fmithes entent,
As I was made a fyling inftrument,
To frame other, while that I was begyled,
But reafon loe, hath at my foly funyled,
Of my laſt yeres, and of my tyme mifpent.
For youth led me, and falfhod me mifguyded,
Yet, this truft I have of great appearance,
Sins that deceyt is aye returnable,
Of very force it is agreable,
That therewithall be done the recompence,
Then gyle begiled, plain'd fhould be never
And the reward is little truft for ever.
lover defcribeth his being friken with fight of bis
love.
THE lively ſparkes, that iffue from thoſe eyes,
Again the which there vaileth no defence,
Have perft my hart, and done it none offence,
With quaking pleaſure, more than once or twife
Was never man could any thing devyſe,
Sunne beames to turne with fo great vehemence
To dafe mans fight, as by their bright prefence
Dafed am I, much lyke unto the gyſe,
Of one ſtriken with dint of lightening,
Blind with the ſtroke, and crying here and there;
So call I for help, I not when or where,
The
of
payn my fall paciently bearing;
For freight after the blafe (as is no wonder)
Of deadly noyfe heare I the fearfull thunder.
The wavering lover willeth and dreadeth to move his
defire.
SUCH vayn thought, as wonted to miſlead me
In defert hope by well affured mone,
Makes me from company to live alone,
In following her, whom reafon biddes me flee,
And after her my heart would fain be gone,
But armed fighes my way do flop anone,
Twixt hope and dreade locking my libertie,
So fleeth the by gentle crueltie,
Yet as I geafle under difdainfall brow,
One beam of truthe is in her cloudy lõoke,
Which comforts the mind, that earft for fear fhooke
That boldeft ftrayght, the way then feeke I how
To utter forth the fmart I hyde within,
But ſuch it is, I not how to begin.
618
THE WORKS OF WYAT.
કરું
The lover having dreamed enjoying of his love, complain
eth that the dreame is not either longer or træer.
UNSTABLE dreame according to the place,
Be ftedfaſt ones, or cls at leaſt be truc,
By tafted fwcetneffe, make me not to rew,
By good reſpect in fuch a dangerous cafe.
Thou broughteft not her into theſe toſſing ſeas,
But madeft my ſpirit to live, my care tencreaſe,
My body in tempeft her delight tembrace,
The body dead, the fpryte had his defire,
Painleffe was th' one, the other in delight,
Why then, alas! did it not kepe it right,
But thus returne to leape into the fyer.
And where it was at wish, could not remaine,
Such mockes of dreames do turn to deadly payne,
The lover unhappy, biddeth happy lovers rejoice in Mog,
while he wayleth that month to him moſt unluckely.
Ya that in love find lucke and fwete abundance,
And live in luft of joyful jolitie,
Aryſe for ſhame, do way your fluggardy,
Arife, I fay, do May fome obfervance,
Let me in beds lye dreaming of mifchaunce,
let me remember my miſhappes unhappy,
That me betide in May moft coramonly.
As one whome love lift little to advance.
Stephan faid true, that my nativitie
Mifchaunced was with the ruler of May:
He geft (I prove) of that the veritie
In May welth, and eke my wittes I fay,
Have ftand fo oft in fuch perplexitie,
Joy, let me dreame of your felicitic.
1
The lower confeffeth himſelf in love with Phillis.
Ir waker care, if fodayne pale colour,
If many fighes with little fpeeche to plaine,
Now joy, now wo, if they my chere difiaine,
For hope of fmal, if much to fear therefore,
To haft or flacke, my pace to leffe or more
Be fygne do love, then to love againe :
If thou afke whome. fure fyns I did refraine,
Brunet that fet my welth in fuch a rore ;
Th' unfained chere of Phyllis hath the place
That Brunet had the hath and ever fhall,
She from my ſelf now hath me in her grace,
She hath in hand my wit, my will and all.
My heart alone wel woorthy fhe doth flay,
Without whofe helpe fkant do live a day.
Of others fained forrow, and the lovers fained mirth.
X
CESAR when that the traitour of Egipt
With t honourable head dd him prefent
Covering his heartes gladneffe, did repreſent
Playne with his teares outward, as it is writ,
Eke Hanniball, when fortune him out thit
Clene from his reigne, and all his cntent,
Laught to his folke, whom forow did torment,
His cruel difpite for to difgorge and quit,
So chaunced me, that every paffion
The mynd hydeth by colour contrary,
With fained vifage, now fad, now wery,
Whereby if that I laugh at any ſeaſon,
It is becauſe I have none other way
To cloake my care, but under ſporte and play.
Of change in minde.
ECHE man me tel'th, I change moſt my deviſe,
And on my faith, methinke it good reaſon;
To chaunge purpofe, like after the ſeaſon,
For in eche cafe to kepe ftill one guiſe,
Is mete for them, that would be taken wyfe,
And I am not of fuch maner condicion,
But treated after a divers faſhion,
And thereupon my diverfeneffe doth ryfe,
But you this diverfeneffe that blamen moft,
Change you no more, but still after one rate,
Treate you me welle, and kepe you in that ſtate,
And while with me doth dwell this weried
ghoſt,
My woord nor I fhall not be variable,
But always one, your own both firm and ftable.
How the lower perifbeth in his delight, as the flye in the
fier.
SOME fowles there be that have no perfite fight,
Against the funne their eyes for to defend,
And fome becauſe the light doth them offend,
Never appere, but in the darke or night:
Others rejoyce, to fee the fire fo bright,
And wene to play in it, as they pretend,
But find contrary of it, as they entende,
Alas of that fort, may I be by right.
For to withſtand her looke I ani not able,
Yet can I not hyde me in no darke place,
So followeth me remembrance of that face;
That with my teary eyen, fwolne, and naftable,
My defteny to behold her doth me leade,
And yet I know I runne into the glead.
Againf his tong that failed to utter bis fuites.
BECAUSE I till kept thee fro lycs and blame,
And to my power alwayes the honowred,
Unkind tongue, to yll haft thou me rendred,
For fuch defer to do me wreke and fhame.
In nede of fuccour moſt when that I am
To afk he rewarde, thou ftandes lyke one afraydey
Alway not cold; and if one word be fayd,
As in a dreame, unperfit is the fame:
And ye falt teares, against my will cach night,
That are with me when I would be alone,
2
晶
​SONGES AND SONETTES.
613
Then are ye gone, when I fhould make my mone,
And ye fo ready fighes, to make me fhright,
Then are ye flacke, when that ye fhoulde outſtart,
And only doth my loke declare my hart.
**Deſcription of the contrarious paſſions in a lover.
I FINDE no peace, and all my warre is done,
I feare and hope, I burne, and freſe lyke yfe,
1 flye aloft, yet çan I not aryſe,
And nought I have, and all the world I feaſon,
That lockes nor lofeth, holdeth me in priſon,
And holdes me not, yet can I ſcape no wyfe,
Nor lettes me live, nor dye, at my devyfe,
And yet of death it geveth me occafion,
Without eye I fee, without tongue I playne,
I wish to perish, yet I aſk for health,
I love another, and I hate my felfe,
I fede me in forow, and laugh in all my payne.
Lo, thus diſpleaſeth me, both death and life,
And my delight is caufer of this ſtrife.
The lover fbeweth bow he is forfaken of fuch as be
Sometime enjoyed.
THEY flee from me, that ſometime did me feke,
With naked fote ftalking within my chamber,
Once have I fene them gentle, tame, and meke,
That now are wyld, and do not once remember.
That ſometime they have put themſelves in dan-
ger,
To take bread at my hand, and now they range,
Bufely feking in continual change.
Thanked be fortunc, it hath been otherwyfe,
Twenty tymes better, but once eſpeciall,
In thine aray,
after a pleafaunt gyfe,
When her loofe gowne did from her fhoulders
fall,
And fhe me caught in her armes long and ſmall;
And therwithall, fo fwetely did me kyffe,
And foftly fayd, dear hearte, how like you this?
It was no dreame, for I lay brode awaking.
But all is turned now through my gentleneſſe,
Into a bitter fafbion of forfaking,
And I have leave to goe of her goodneffe;
And ſhe alſo to ufe new fangleneffe,
But, fyns that I unkendly fo am ferved,
The lover compareth his flate to a fuippe in perilous How like you this, what hath fhe now deſerved:
J
ferme toffed on the fea.
My gally charged with forgetfulneſſe,
Through ſharpe feas, in winter nightes doth paffe,
Twene rocke, and rocke, and eke my foe (alas)
That is my lord, ftereth with cruelneffe.
And every houre, a thought in rcadineffe,
As though that death wer light in ſuch a cafe,
And endleffe wynde doth teare the fayle apace
Of forced fighes and trufty fearfulneffe :
A rayne of teares, a cloude of dark diſdayne,
Have done the weried coardes great hinderance;
Wretched with errour, and with ignorance,
The ſtarres be hidde, that lead me to this payne.
Drounde is reafon that ſhoulde be my comforte,
And I remayne, difparing of the porte.
十
​Of doubtful love.
AVYSING the bright beames of thoſe fayre eyes,
Where he abides that mine oft moyftes and
washeth
ti
The Lady to aunfawere direfly with yea or nay.
MADAME, withouten many woordes,
Once I am fure, you will, or no :
And if you will, then leave your boordes,
And uſe your wit, and fhew it fo.
For with a beck you ſhall me call,
And if of one, that burnes alwaye,
Ye have pitie, or ruth at all,
Aunfwere him faire with ye or nay,
If it be nay, frendes as before,
You ſhall an other man obtayne,
And I myne own, and yours no more.
To bis love whom be bad kiſſed againft her will.
ALAS, madame, for ftealing of a kiffe,
Have I fo much your mind therin offended?
Or have I done fo grievoufly amiffe,
That by no meenes it may not be amended?
The wearied mynde ftreight from the heart de- Revenge you then, the readieſt way is this,
parteth,
To reft within his worldly paradyfe;
And bitter findes the fwete, under his gyfe,
What webbes there he hath wrought, well he
perceiveth,
Wherby then with hymfelfe on love he playneth,
Another kiffe my life it thall have ended,
For, to my mouth the firft my hart did fucke,
The next ſhall cleane out of my breft it plucke.
efpied this other fitting with her.
That fpurs with fyre, and brydleth eke with yfe: Of the jealous man that loved the fame woman, and
In fuch extremitie thus is he brought,
Frozen now cold, and now he ftandes in flame,
Twixt wo and wealth, betwixt carneſt and gaine,
With feldome glad, and many a divers thought;
In fore repentance of his hardineffe,
Of fuch a roote loe commeth frute fruteleffe.
THE wandering gadling in the ſommer tyde,
That findes the adder with his rechles foote,
Startes not difmayde fo fodenly afyde,
As jealous deſpite did, though ther wer no boote
620
THE WORKS OF WYAT.
I
When that he faw me fitting by her fyde,
That of my health is very crop and roote.
It pleaſed me then to have ſo faire a grace,
To fting the hart, that would have had my place.
+
To bis love from whom he bad his gloves.
WHAT nedes theſe threatning wordes, and waſted
winde :
Al this cannot make me reſtore my pray,
To robbe your good, ywis is not my mynde,
Nor caufeleffe your fair hand did I diſplay,
Let love be judge, or els whom next we finde,
That may both heare what you and I can fay,
She reft my hart, and I a glove from her,
Let us fee then, if one be worth the other.
As judges lo to hear my exclamacion,
Among whom ruth (I finde) ye doth reniayne,
Where I it feke, alas! there is difdayne,
Oft ye rivers, to heare my wofull found,
Have ftopt your cours, and playnly to expreffe,
Many a teare by moyſture of the ground,
The earth hath wept to hear my heavineffe,
Which caufeleffe I endure without redreffes,
The hugy okes have roared in the wynde,
Eche thing me thought, complayning in their
kind.
Why then alas! doth not the on me rue,
Or is her heart fo hard, that no pitties
May in it finke, my joy for to renew ;
O ftony hart, who hath thus franied thee
So cruel, that art cloked with beauty,
That from thee may no grace to me proceede,
But as reward, death for to be my mede,
Of the fayned frend.
Rycar true it is, and fayd full yore ago,
Take hede of him that by the back thee claweth :
For none is worſe than is a frendly fo,
Though thec feme good, all thing that the de-
liteth,
Yet know it well, that in thy bofome crepeth,
For many a man fuch fire oft times he kindleth,
That with the blafe his beard himſelf he fingeth.
IT
The lover taught, mifrufteth allurements.
It may be good, lyke it who lift,
But I do doubt who can me blame?
For oft affured, yer have I mift,
And now again I fear the fame :
The woordes, that from your mouth laft came,
Of fodeyn change make me agaft,
For dread to fall, I ftand not falt.
Alas! I tread an endlefs male,
That feke t'accord two contraries,
And hope thus ftill, and nothing hafe,
Imprifoned in liberties,
As one unheard, and ftill that cries,
Always thirsty, and nought doth taſte,
For 'dread to fall I ftand not faſt.
Affured I doubt I be not fure,
Should I then truft unto fuch furety,
That oft hath put the profe in ure
And never yet have found it truftie.
Nay, for in fayth, it were great folly,
And yet my life thus do I waſt,
For dread to fall I ftand not faſt.
The lover complaineth that his love doth not pitie him.
RESOUND my voyce ye woods, me heare me plain,
mc
Both hils and vales caufing reflection,
And rivers eke, record ye of my payne,
Which have oft ferced ye by compullion,
The lover rejoyfeth again fortune, that by bindering
bis fuite bad happely made him forfake bis folly.
IN faith I wote not what to ſay,
Thy chaunces been fo wonderous,
Thou fortune with thy divers play,
That makeft the joyfull dolorous,
Yet though thy chaine hath me enwrapt,
Spyte of thy hap, hap hath well hapt,
Though thou haft fet me for a wonder,
And fekeft by change to do me payne,
Mens myndes yet mayft thou not fo order,
For honeftie if it remayne,
Shall thine for al thy cloudy rayne;
In vayne thou fekeft to have nie trapt,
Spyte of thy hap, hap hath well hapt.
In hindering me, me didſt thou furthur,
And made a gap, where was a ftyle,
Cruel wiles been oft put under,
Wening to lower, then didit thou fmyle.
Lord, how thy felf thou didst begyle,
That in thy cares would have me wrapt,
But fprte of hap, hap hath well hapt.
A renouncing of hardelie eſtaped love.
FAREWELL the hard of cruelty,
Though that with pain my liberty,
Dear have I bought, and wofully,
Finisht my fearefull tragedy.
Of force 1 muſt forfake fuch pleaſure,
A good caufe juft, fins I endure,
Therby my wo, which be ye fure,
Shall therwith go me to recure.
I fare as one eſcapt that fleeth,
Glad he is gone, and yet ftyll feareth,
Spied to be caught and fo dredeth
That he for nought his pain lefeth
In joyfull payn, rejoyce my hart,
Thus to fultayn of eche a part.
Let net this fong from thee aftari,
Welcome among my pleafant (martė
SONGES AND SONETTES.
621
So fmall hony, much aloes, and gall,
The lover to his bed, with defcribing of his unquiet flate. In bitterneffe, my blinde life hath ytaſted
THE reftfull place, renuer of my ſmart,
The labours falve encreaſing my forow,
The bodies cafe, and troubler of my hart,
Quieter of minde, myne unquiet foe,
Forgeatter of payne, rememberer of my woe,
The place of flepe, wherein I do but wake,
Befprent with teares, my bed, I the forfake,
The frofty fnowes may not redrefs my heate,
Nor, theate of funne abate my fervent cold,
I know nothing to eafe my paine fo great
Eche cure cauſeth encreaſe by twenty fold,
Renewing cares upon my forrows old,
Such overthwart effectes in me they make,
Befprent with teares, my bed for to forfake.
But all for nought, I find no better eafe,
In bed or out, this moſt cauſeth my paine,
Where do I feek how beft that I may pleaſe,
My loft labour (alas) is all in vayn,
My heart once fet, I cannot it refrayne,
No place from me my grief away can take,
Wherefore with teares, my bed I thee forfake.
Compariſon of love, to a fireame falling from the Alps.
FROM theſe hye hilles as when a ſpring doth fall,
It trilleth downe with ftill and futtle courfe,
Of this and that, it gathers aye and fhall,
Till it have just downe flowed to ftreame and
force,
Then at the foote it rageth over all:
So fareth love, when he hath tane a courſe,
Rage is his rayne, refiftance vayleth none,
The firft efchue is remedy alone.
Wyates complaint upon love te reaſon, with loves
aunfwere.
MYNE old dere enmy, my froward maiſter,
A fore that quene, I caufde to be acyted,
Which holdeth the divine part of our nature,
That like as golde, in fyre he mought be tryed.
Charged with a dolour, there Ime prefented
With horrible feare, as one that greatly dreadeth
A wrongfull death, and juſtice alway feketh.
And thus I fay'd: Once my left foote, madame,
When I was yong, I fet within his raigne ;
Whereby other then fyrely burning flame,
I never felt, but many a grievous payne,
Torment 1 fuffred anger and diſdayne :
That mine oppreffed pacience was past,
And I mine owne life hated at the laſt.
Thus hitherto have I my tyme paffed
In paine and ſmart, what wayes is profitable,
How many pleaſant dayes have me eſcaped,
In ferving this falfe lyer fo deceivable?
What wit have wordes fo prcft and forceable,
That may containe my great miſhappineffe,
And just complaintes of his ungentleneffe?
His falfe femblance, that turneth as a ball,
With fair and amorous daunce, made me be traced,
And where I had my thought and minde araced,
From earthly fraylneſſe, and from vaine pleaſure.
Me from my rest he tooke and fet in errour.
God made he me regardleffe, than I ought,
And to my felfe to take right little hede:
And for a woman have I fet at nought,
Al other thought es, in this only to fpede,
And he was onely counfeler of this dede.
Whetting alwayes my youthly fraile defyre,
On cruel whetstone, tempered with fire.
But (oh alas) where had I ever wit?
Or other gift geven to me of nature?
That fooner fhal be changed my weried ſprite,
Then the obftinate will, that is my ruler,
So robbeth he my fredeme with diſpleaſure,
This wicked traytour, whom I thus accufe,
That bitter life hath turned in pleaſant uſe.
He hath me hafted, through divers regions,
Through defert woodes, and ſharpe by mountaines,
Through froward people, and through bitter
paffions,
Through rocky feas, and over hilles and plaines:
With wery travel, and with laborous paynes,
Alwayes in trouble and in tedioufneffe,
All in errour, and daungerous diftreffe.
But nother he, nor fhe, my tother foe,
For all my flight did ever me forfake;
That though my timely death hath been to flowe
That me as yet, it hath not overtake :
The heavenly gods of pitie doe it ſlake,
And note they this his cruell tyranny,
That feedes him, with my care, and mifery.
Sins I was his, hower refted I never,
Nor looke to doe, and eke the waky nightes,
The banished flepe may in no wife recover.
By guyle and force, over my thralled fpites
He is ruler, fins which bell never ftrikes,
That I hear not as founding to renue
My plaintes. Himfelf he knoweth that I fay
true.
For never woormes old rotten ftocke have caten,
As he my hart, where he is refident,
And doth the fame with death daily threaten.
Thence come the teares, and thence the bitter
torment,
[meat,
The fighes, the woordes and cke the languifh-
That noy both me, and paraventure other,
Judge thou that knoweſt the one and eke the other.
Mine adverfarie with fuch grevous reproofe,
Thus he began, Hear lady the other part:
That the plain trouth, from which he draweth
aloofe,
This unkind man may fhew, ere that I part,
In his yong age, I tooke him from that art,
That felleth woordes, and make clattering knight,
And of my wealth I gave him the delight.
Now fhames he not on me for to complaine,
That held him evermore in plcafant gayne,
From his defire that might have been his payne,
Yet therby alone I brought him to fome frame,
Which now as wretchednes, he doth ſo blame,
་
622
THE WORKS OF WYAT.
And toward honour quickned I his wit,
Whereas a daftard els he mought have fit.
He knowed how great Atride that made Troy
freat,
And Hannibal to Rome fo troubelous,
Whom Homer honoured Achilles that great,
And th' Affricane Scipion the famous,
And many other, by much honour glorious,
Whoſe fame and actes did lift them up above,
I did let fall in bafe difhoneft love.
Aud unto him, though he unworthy were,
I chole the beſt of many a million,
That under funne yet never was her pere,
Of wiſdom womanhod, and of diſcrecion,
And of my grace I gave her fuch a facion,
And eke futh way I taught her for to teache
That never baſe thought his hart fo hie might
reache.
Ever more thus to content his maiftreffe
That was his only frame of honeftie,
I ftirred him ftill toward gentleneffe,
And cauſed him to regard fidelitie;
Pacience I taught hini in adverſitie,
Such vertues learned he in my great ſchoole,
Whereof repenteth now the ignorant foole.
Theſe were the fame deceites, and bitter gall,
That I have uſed, the torment and the anger,
Sweter than ever did to other fall,
Of right good feed, ill fruite lo thus I gather,
And fo fhall he that the unkinde doth further;
A ferpent nouriſh I under my wing,
And now of nature ginneth he to fling.
And for to tell at last, my great fervice,
From thoufandes difhonefties have I him drawen,
That, by my meanes, him in no manner wyfe,
Never vyle pleaſure once hath overthrowen,
Wherin his dede, fhame hath him alwayes gnawen,
Doubting report that ſhould come to her care,
Whom now he blames, her wonted he to feare;
What ever he hath of any honeft cuſtome,
Of her, and me, that holds he every whit,
But lo, yet never was there neightly fantome,
So farre in errour, as he is from his wit,
To plain on us, he ſtriveth with the bit;
Which may rule him, and do him eafe, and paine,
And in one hower, make all his griefe his gaine.
But one thing yet there is above all other,
I gave him winges, wherewith he might up flye,
To honour and fame, and if he woulde to hygher,
Then mortal things, above the ſtarry skye;
Confidering the pleaſure, that an eye
Might geue in earth, by reafon of the love,
What fhould that be, that lafteth ſtill above?
And he the fame himſelf hath faid ere this,
But now, forgotten is both that and I,
That gave him her, his only wealth and bliſſe,
And at this woord, with deadly fhreke and crye:
Thou gave her once (quod I) but by and by
Thou took her ayen from me, that woworth the
Not I, but price, more worth than thou (quod he.)
At laft, cche other for himſelf, concluded,
I trembling ftill, but he, with fmall reverence,
Lo, thus, as we eche other have acculed,
Dere lady now we wayte thene only fentence;
She ſmiling, at the whifted audience,
I liketh me, quod fhe, to have heard your queſtion,
But longer time doth afke a refolution.
The lovers forrow full ſtate maketh him write forrowfull
fonges, but fouche, bis love may change the fame.
MARILL no more altho,
The fongs, I fing do mone
For other life then woe,
I never proved none.
And in my heart alſo,
Is graven with letters deepe,
A thouſand fighes and mo
A flod of teares to weepe.
How many a man in ſmart,
Find a matter to rejoyce!
How many a morning hart,
Set forth a pleaſant voyce :
Play who ſo can that part,
Nedes muſt in me appere,
How fortune overthwart
Doth cauſe my morning chere,
Perdy there is no man
If he faw never fight,
That perfitly tell can,
The nature of the light.
Alas, how should I than,
That never taſt but ſowre,
But do as I began,
Continually to lowre.
But yet perchance fome chance,
May chance to change my tune,
And when (fouch) chance doth chance,
Then fhall I thanke fortune.
And if I have (fouch) chance,
Purchance or it be long,
For (fouch) a pleaſant chance,
To fing fome pleaſant ſong.
The lover complaineth himſelf forfaken.
WHERE fhall I have at mine own wil,
Teares to complaine, where fhall I fet
Such fighes, that I may figh my fill,
And then again my plaintes repete?
For though my plaint fhall have none,
My tares cannot fuffife my woe lend,
To mone harm, have I no friend,
For fortunes frend is mifhappes foe.
Comfort (God wot) els have I none,
But in the wind to waft my woordes,
Nought moneth you my dedly mone,
But ftill you turn it into boordes :
I fpeak not now, to move your heart,
That you should rue upon my pain,
The fentence geven may not revert,
I know fuch labour were but vain.
But fens that I for you (my dere)
Have loft that thing, that was my beft,
A right fmall lofs it muſt appere,
To leſe theſe woordes, and all the reft,
I
}
SONGES AND SONETTES.
623
But though they fparkle in the wind,
Yet fhall they fhew your falfhed fayth,
Which is returned to his kind,
For lyke to lyke. the proverbe faith.
Fortune, and you did me avance,
Me thought I fwam, and could not drowne,
Happieft of al, but my mifchaunce
Did lift me up to throw me downe.
And you with her, of cruelneſs,
Did fet your foole upon my necke,
Me, and my welfare to opprefs,
Without offence your heart to wreke.
Where are your pleaſant woordes (alas)
Where is your faith, your ſtedfaſtneſs?
There is no more but all doth pafs,
And I am left all comfortleſs.
But fins fo much it doth you greve,
And alfo me my wretched lyfe,
Have here my trouth nought ſhall relieve,
But death alone, my wretched ftrife.
Therefore farewell, my lyfe, my death,
My gayne, my loffe, my falve, my ſore,
Farewell alfo, with you my breath,
For I am gone for evermore.
Go, bend thy bow, that ftony hartes breaketh,
And with fome ftroke, revenge the great difpica-
fure,
Of thee, and him that forow doth endure,
And as his lord the lowly her entreateth.
Complaint for true love unrequited.
WHAT vaileth trouth, or by it to take pain,
To ftrive by ftedfaftneſs, for to attain ;
How to be just, and flee from doubleneffe,
Since all alike, where ruleth craftineffe.
Rewarded is both crafty, falfe, and plain?
Sooneft he ſpedes, that moſt can lye and faine.
True meaning hart is had in hyghe dildaine;
Againſt deceit and c'oked doubleneſſe,
What vaileth trouth, or perfect fedfaftneffe.
Deceived is he, by falfe and craſtie train,
flat meanes no gile. and faithfull doth remaine.
Within the trap, without help o redreffe,
But for to love, lo, fuch a ftern maiftreffe,
Where crueltie dwelles, alas it were in vain.
Of his love that pricked her finger with a nedle.
SHE fate and fowed that hath done me the wrong,
Whereof I plain, and have done many a day,
And, whilſt ſhe heard my plaint, in piteous fong,
She wifht my heart the fampler, that it lay.
The blind maifter, whone I have ſerved fo long,
Grudging to heare, that he did heare her ſay,
Made her own weapon do her finger blede,
To feele, if pricking were fo good indede,
р
The lover that fled love, nor folores it with
Lis bar me.
SOMETIME I fled the fire, that one fo brent,
By fea. by land, by water, and by winde,
And now the coales I folow, that beguent,
From Dover to Cales, with willing minde.
Lo how defire is both fprong, and ſpent,
And he may fee, that whilome was fo blind,
And all this labour laughes he now to ſcorne,
Mcafhed in the briers, that erft was onely torne.
Of the fame.
WHAT man hath hearde fuch crueltie before,
That, when my plaint remembred her my wo,
That cauſed it, fhe cruell more and more,
Wiſhed eche ftich, as ſhe did fìt and ſow,
Had prickt my heart, for to encreate my fore;
And as I thinke, ſhe thought that had been ſo,
For as the thought, this is heart in dede,
She prickt hard, and made herlelf to blede.
Request to Cupide for revenge of his unkind love,
BEHOLD love, thy power how the defpyfeth
My grievous payn, how little fhe regardeth
The folemne othe whereof ſhe takes no cure,
Broken fhe hath, and yet the bydeth fure.
Right at her caſe, and little thee ſhe dredeth,
Weaponed thou art, and fhe unarmed fitteth;
To the difdainefule, all her lyfe fhe leadeth
To me fpitefule, without juſt cauſe or meaſure :
Behold Love, how proudly the triumpeth,
am in hold, but if the pittie meveth,
The lover hopeth of better chaunce.
He is not dead, that femetime had a fal,
The fun returnes, your hed was under clowde,
And when fortune hath fpit out all her gall,
I truft, good luck to me hal be allowed.
For I have feen a fhip in haven fal,
After that forme hath broke bothe maſte and
fhroud,
The wellow eke, that ftoupeth with the winde,
Doth rife again, and greater wood doth binde.
The lover compareth bis bart to the overcharged gannę.
THE furious gonne, in his moſt ragyng yre,
When that the boule is rammed into fore,
And that the flame cannot part from the fier,
Crackes in funder, and in the ayer do rore
The thevered peces: fo doth my defire,
Whoſe flame encreafeth aye from more to more,
Which to let out, 1 dare not loke, nor fpeke,
So inwarde force my heart doth alto breake.
*
نگه
626
THE WORKS OF WYAT,
The lover fufpected of change, praicth that it be not
beleved against him.
ACCUSED though I be, without defert,
Sith none can prove, believe it not for true;
For never yet, fince that you had my hart,
Intended I to falfe, or be untrue.
Sooner I would of death ſuſtain the fmart,
Than breake one worde of that I promiſed you,
Accept therefore my fervice in good part,
None is alive, that can il tongue efchew,
Hold them as falfe, and let not us depart,
Our friendíhip old, in hope of any new.
Put not thy truft in fuch as ufe to faine,
Except thou minde to put thy frend to pain.
Yet fhall not nature change,
If pitie once win place,
Whom as unknowne and ftrange,
She now away doth chafe.
And as the water foft,
Without forcing or ſtrength,
Where that it falleth oft,
Hard ftones doth pierce at length,
So in her ftony heart,
My plaintes at laft fhall grave,
And rigour fet apart,
Winne graunt of that I crave.
Wherefore my playntes prefent
Stil fo to her my fuit,
As ye through her affent,
May bring to me ſome frute.
And as the fhali me prove,
So bid her me regarde,
And render love for love,
Which is a juft reward.
The lover abufed renounceth love.
My love to fcorn, my fervice to retain,
Therein me thought you uſed crueltie,
Since with good will I lost my libertie,
Might never wo yet caufe me to refraine.
But only this, which is extremitie,
To give me nought (alas) not to agree,
That as I was your man, I might remaine,
But fince that thus ye lift to order mee,
The lovers cafe cannot be hidden, however be diffemble.
YOUR lokes fo often caft,
Your eyes fo frendly rolde,
Your fight fixed ſo faſt,
Alwaics one to beholde :
That would have been your fervant true and faft, Though hide it faine ye woulde,
Diſpleaſe you not, my doting time is paſt;
And with my loffe to leave I must agree,
For as there is a certaine time to rage,
So is there time fuch madnes to affwage.
The lover profeffth bimfelfe conftant,
WITHIN iny breft I never thought it gaine,
Of gentle mindes the fredome for to loſe,
Not in my hart fank never ſuch diſdaine,
To be a forger, faultleffe for to diſcloſe.
Nor can not I endure the truth to gloſe,
To fet a gloffe upon an earneſt paine,
Nor I am not in numbre one of those,
That lift to blow, retreate to every traine,
The lover fendeth his complaintes and teares to fue for
grace.
PASSE forth my wounted cryes,
Thofe cruel eares to pearce,
Which in moft hatefull wife,
Do ſtill my plaintes reverfe.
Doe you, my teares alfo,
So wot her barrein heart,
That pitic there may growe,
And crueltie depart.
For though hard rockes among
She femes to have been bred,
And of the tigre long
Bene nouriſhed and fed.
It plainly doth declare,
Who hath your hart in hold,
And where good will ye bare.
Faine would ye find a cloke,
Your brenning fire to hide,
Yet both the flame and ſmoke
Breakes out on every fide.
Ye cannot love ſo guide,
That it no ifſue winne,
Abrode nedes muft it glide,
That brennes fo hotte within.
For cauſe your felf do wink,
Ye judge all other blinde,
And fecret it you think,
Which every man dothe finde.
In waft of ſpend ye winde,
Your felf in love to quit,
For agucs of that kinde,
Wyll fhow, who hath the fit.
Your fighs you fet from farre,
And all to wry your wo,
Yet are ye nor the narre,
Men are not blinded fo.
Depely oft fwere ye no,
But all thofe othes are vaine,
So well your eye doth fhew,
Who putts your hart to paine.
Thinke not therefore to hide,
That ſtill it ſelf betraies,
Nor feke meanes to provide,
To dark the funny dayes.
Forget thoſe wonted wayes,
Leave of fuch froowning chere,
There will be found no ftaies,
To stop a thing fo clere.
I
SONGES AND SONETTL3.
025
"
The lover praieth, not to bɩ d'fåsined, nor refuſed,
miftrufied, nor ferfulen.
DISDAINE me not without defert,
Nor leave me not fo fodeynly,
Since well ye wot, that in my hert,
I meane ye not but honeftly.
Refuſe me not without caufe why,
Nor think me not to be unjust,
Since that by lott of fantafie,
This careful knot nedes knit I must.
Miftruſt me not, though fome there be,
That fain would foot my ſtedfaſtneſſe;
Beleve them not, fins that ye fc,
The profe is not, as they exprcffe.
forfake me not, till I deferve,
Nor hate me not, till I offende,
Deftroy me not, till that I fwerve,
But fins ye know what I entende.
Difdaine me not, that am your owne,
Refufe me not, that am fo true,
Miftruft me not till all be knowen,
Forlake me not, now for no new.
The loter lamenteth bis eftate, with fute for grace.
FOR want of will in wo I plaine,
Under colour of foberneſs,
Renewing with my fute my paine,
My wan hope with your ſtedfastneffe.
Awake therefore of gentleneffe,
Regard at length, I you require,
My fwelting paines of my defire.
Betimes who geveth willingly,
Redoubled tharkes aye doth deſerve,
And I that fue unfainedly,
In fruitleffe hope alas do ferve.
How great my caufe is for to fwerve,
And yet how fedfaft is my fute,
Lo! here ye fee, where is the frute.
As hounde that hath his keper loſt,
Seke I your preſence to obtaine,
In which my hart deliteth moſt,
And fhall delight though I be flain,
You
may releafe hand of paine,
Lofe then the care that makes me crie,
for want of help or els I dye.
my
I dye though not incontinent.
By procefic yet confumingly,
Is waft of fire which doth relent
If you as wilfull will deny.
Wherefore ceaſe of ſuch cruelty,
And take me wholy in your grace,
Which lacketh will to change his place.
IF
1
The lover waileth his changed joyes,
If every man might him avaunt,
Of fortunes friendly chere,
VOL. I.
It was my felf I muft it graunt,
For I have bought it dere,
And derely have I held alſo
The glory of her name,
In yielding her fuch tribute lo,
As did fet forth her fame.
Sometime I ftood fo in her grace,
That as I would require,
Ech joy I thought did me embrace
That furdered my deſire,
And all thefe pleaſures lo! had !,
That fancy might fupport,
And nothing fhe did me deny,
That was unto my comfort.
I had (what would you more perdie)
Ech grace that I did crave,
1 hus fortunes will was unto me,
All thing that I would have,
But all to rathe, alas! the while,
She built on ſuch a ground,
In little space, to greate a guile,
In her now have I found.
For fhe hath turned fo her whele,
That I, unhappy man,
May waile the time that I did fele,
Wherewith fhe fed me then,
For broken now are her beheftes,
And pleaſant lookes ſhe gave,
And therefore now all my requeftes,
From perill cannot fave.
Yer would I well it might appere
To her my cheife regard,
Though my defertes have been to dere
To merit fuch reward,
Sins fortunes will is now fo bent,
To plague me thus pore man,
I must my ſelf therewith content,
And bear it as I can.
To his love that has given anfwere of refufal!.
THE aunfwere that ye made to me my deare,
When I did fue for my pore hartes redrefle,
Hath fo appalde my countenance, and my there,
That in this cafe, I am all comfortleffe,
Sins I of blame no caufe can well exprefs.
I have no wrong, where I can claim no right
Nought tane me fro, where I have nothing had,
Yet of my wo, I cannot fo be quite,
Namely fins that another may be glad
With that, that thus in forrow makes me fad.
Yet none can claime (I fay) by former graunt
That knoweth not of any graunt at all.
And by defert, I dare well make a vaunt,
Of faithfull will, there is no where that shall,
Beare you more trueth, more ready at your call.
Now good then, call againe that bitter word,
That toucht your frend fo nere with plagues of
paine,
And fay my dere that it was faid in bord.
Late or to fone, let it not rule the gaine,
Wherewith free will doth true defert retayne,
Rr
626
THE WORKS OF WYAT.
To his ladie, cruel over her yelden lover.
Such is the courſe that natures kind hath wrought,
That fnakes have time to caft away their ftings,
Againſt chain'd prifoners what nede defence be
fought,
The fierce lyon will hurt no yielding things;
Why fhould fuch ſpight be nurfed then by thoughts,
Sith all theſe powers are preft under thy wings,
And eke thou feeft, and reafon thee hath taught,
What miſchiefe malice many wayes it brings,
Confider eke, that ſpite avayleth nought,
Therefore this fong thy fault to thee it fings:
Difpleaſe thee not, for faying thus (me thought)
Nor hate thou him from whom no hate forth
I
fprings,
For furies that in hell be execrable,
For that they hate, are made moft miferable.
:
The lover complaineth the unkindacſs of his love,
Labour that thou and I fhall waft
My lute awake perform the laſt
And ende that I have now begunne,
And when this fong is fong and paſt,
My lute be ftyll for I have done.
As to be heard where eare is none,
As leade to grave in marble ſtone,
My fong may pearce her hart as foon,
Should we then figh, or fing, or mone,
No, no, my lute, for I have done.
The rocks do not fo cruelly,
Repulſe the waves continually,
As fhe my fuite and affection:
So that I am paſt remedy,
Whereby my lute and I have done.
Proude of the fpoyle that thou haſt gotte,
Of fimple hearts through loves fhot,
By whome unkind thou haſt them wonne,
Think not he hath his bow forgott,
The lover complaineth that deadly fickness cannot belp his Although my lute and I have done.
affection.
THE enemy of lyfe, decayer of all kinde,
I hat with his cold withers away the grene
This other night me in my bed did fynde,
And offer'd me to ryde me fever clene,
And I did graunt fo did diſpair me blinde,
He drew his bowe with arrowes fharp and kene,
And ftroke the place where love had hyt before,
And drave the fyrft dart deper more and more.
The lover rejoycetb the enjoying of his love.
ONCE as methought fortune me kiſt,
And bade me afk what I thought beft,
And I should have it as me lyft,
Therewith to ſet my hart at reſt.
I aſked but my ladyes hart,
To have forevermore myne owne,
'Then at an end were all my fmart,
Then ſhould I nede no more to mene.
Yet for all that a ſtormy blaſt,
Had overturn'd this goodly nay:
And fortune femed at the laſt,
That to her promife fhe faid nay.
But like as one out of difpaire,
To fodeyne hoape revived I;
Now fortune fheweth her ſelfe ſo fayre,
That I content me wonderfly.
My moſt defyre my hand my reach,
My will is alway at my hande,
Me nede not long for to befech,
Her that hath power me to comande.
What earthly thing more can I crave,
What would I wifh more at my will;
Nothing on earth more would I have,
Save that I have, to have it fill.
For fortune now hath kept her promeffe,
Ja graunting me my moft defyre,
Of my foveraigne I have redreſs,
And I content me with my byre,
Vengeance fhall fall on thy disdaine
That makeſt but game on earneſt payne,
Think not alone under the funn,
Unquit to caufe thy lovers playne,
Although my lute and I have done.
May chanced thee lye withred and old,
In winter nights that are fo cold,
Playing in vaine unto the moon,
Thy wishes then dare not be told,
Care then who lit for I have done.
And then may chaunce thee to repent,
The time that thou haſt loſt and ſpent,
To caufe thy lovers fighe and fwone,
Then ſhalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wiſh and want as I have done.
Now ceafe my lute this is the laſt,
Labour that thou and I fhall wait,
And ended is that we begonne,
Now is this fong both fong and paſt.
My lute be ſtill for I have done.
How by a kifs, be found both his life and death,
NATURE that gave the bee ſo feate a grace,
To finde honey of ſo wondrous faſhion,
Hath taught the ſpyder out of the fame place,
To fetch poyfon by ftraunge alteration.
Though this be ſtrange, it is a stranger cafe,
With one kifs by fecret operation;
Both thefe at once in thofe your lips to finde,
In change whereof, I leave my hart behinde.
The lover defcribeth his being taken with fight of lis
love.
UNWARELT fo was never no man taught,
With fedtalt looke upon a goodly face,
As of late, for todaynly me thought,
My hart was torne out of his place,
1
?
1
SONGES AND SONETTES,
627.
Thorow mine eye the ftroke from hers dyd ſlide;
And down directly to my heart it ranne,
In help whereof the blood thereto did glide,
And left my face both pale and wanne.
Then was I like a man for wo amazed,
Or like the fowle that flyeth into the fyre,
For while that I upon her beauty gaſed,
The more I burned in my defire.
Anon the blood ftart in my face agaync,
Inflam'd with heat, that it had at my hart,
And brought therewith throughout in every veine,
A quakeing heat wit pleaſant ſmart.
Then was I like the ftraw, when that the flame
Is driven therein, by force and rage of wynde.
I can not tell, alafs! what fhall I blame,
Nor what to feke, nor what to finde.
But well I wot the grief doth hold me fore,
In heat and cold, betwixt both hope and dreade,
That, but her help to health doe me reſtore,
This reſtleſſe lyfe I may not leade.
To bis lover to looke upon him.
ALL in thy looke my life doth whole depend,
Thou hydeft thy felf, and I muft dye therefore,
But fince thou may'ft fo eafely help thy frende,
Why doeft thou ftick to falve that thou madeſt
fore:
Why do I dye, fince thou mayft me defend,
And if I dye thy life may laſt noe more,
For each by other doth live and have reliefe,
I in thy look, and thou moſt in my griefe.
The lover excufeth bim of woordes, wherewith he was
unjustly charged.
PERDY I fayde it not,
Nor never thought to doe,
As well as I ye wot,
I have no power thereto.
And if I dyd, the lot
That firſt dyd me cxchange,
May never flake the knot,
But ſtrayt it to my payne,
And if I did eche thing,
That may do harme or wo,
Continually may wring,
My heart where ſo I goe.
Report may always ring
Of shame on me for aye,
If in my heart did fpryng,
The words that you doe ſay.
And if I did, each ſtarr,
That is in heaven above,
May frame on me to marre,
The hope I have in love.
And if I did fuch warr
As they brought unto Troy,
Bring all my life as farre
From all his luft and joye,
And if I did fo faye,
The beauty that me bounde,
Encreaſe from day to day,
More cruel to ny wounde.
With all the mone that may,
To plaint my turne my fong,
My lyfe may foon decaye,
Without redreffe by wrong.
If I be cleare from thought,
Why do you then complayne,
Then is this thing but fought,
To turne my hart to payne.
Then this that you have wrought,
You muſt it now redreffe,
Of right therefore you ought,
Such rigour to repreffe
And as I have deferved,
So grant me now my hyre.
You know I never ſwerved,
You never found me lyer.
For Rachel have I ferved,
For Lea carde I never,
And her I have reſerved
Within my hart for ever.
Cffuch as bad forfaken bim.
LURE my fair faulcon, and thy fellowes all,
How well pleaſant it were your libertie,
Ye not forfake me, that fayre mought you fall,
But they that fometime liked my company.
Like lyce away from dead bodyes they cral,
Lo what a proof in light adverfitie,
But ye my byrds I fwear by all your belles,
Ye be my friends and very fewe elles.
A deſcription of ſuch a one as he would love.
**
A FACE that ſhould content me wonderous well,
Should not be fatt, but lovely to behold,
Of lively look all griefe for to repeil
With right good grace fo would I that it ſhould.
Speak without word. fuch words as none can tell,
Her trefs alfo fhould be of crifped gold,
With wit and thefe, perchaunce I might be tryde
And knit againe with knot that ſhould not ſlide.
How impoffible it is to fynde quietneſſe in lovê,
EVER my hap is flack and flow in comeing
Defire encreafing aye my hope uncertayne,
With doubtful love that but encreafeth paine,
For tigre like fo fwift it is in parting.
Alas! the fnow black, fhall it bee and fcalding,
The fea waterles, and fifh upon the mountaine,
The Temmes fhall backe returne in her fountaine,
And where he rofe, the funn fhall take her
lodging,
Rrij
€18
THE WORKS OF WYAT.
Ere I in this finde peace or quietneſs,
Or that love, or my lady right willy,
Leave to confpire againft me wrongfully,
And if I have after fuch bitterneſs,
One drop of fwete, my mouth is out of tafte,
That all my truft and travell is but waste.
Of love, fortune, and the lovers minde.
Love, fortune, and my minde which doe remember
Eke that is now, and that once hath bene,
Torment my hart fo fore that very often
I hate and envy them beyond all meaſure.
Love fleeth my hart, while fortune is depriver,
Of all my comfort, the foolish minde than,
Burneth and plaineth, as one that very feldome,
Liveth in reſt ſo ftill in difpleaſure :
My pleaſant dayes they flete and paffe
And dayly doth myne yll change to the worfe,
When more than halfe is runne now of my courfe.
Alas! not of ftele, but of brittle glaſs,
I fee that from my hand falleth my trust,
And all my thoughts are daſhed into duſt,
The lover praiſeth Lis offred bart to be received.
How oft have I, my dere and cruel foe,
With my great paine to get fome peace or truce,
Given you my hart but you do not ufe,
In foe high things, to caſt your mind ſo low.
If any other icoke for it as you trow,
Their vaine, weake hope doth greatly them abufe,
And that thus I difdaine, that you refufe,
It was once mine, it can no more be fo.
If you it chaſe that it in you can find
In this exile no manner of conſort,
Nor live alone nor where he is cald refort,
He may wander from his natural kinde.
So fhall it be great hurt unto us twaine,
And yours the lcfs, and mine the deadly paine.
The lovers life compared to ile Alper.
LIKE unto thefe unmeafuralle mountaines,
So in my painfull life the burden of yre,
For hie be they, and hie is my deſire,
And I of teares, and they be full of fountaines.
Under craggy rocks they have barren plaines,
Hard thoughts in me my wofull minde doth tire,
Small fruite and many leaves theire tops do attire,
With ſmall effect great truft in me remaines.
The boisterous winds oft theire high bowes do
blaſt,
Hott fighes in me continually be ſhed,
Wilde beafts in them, firce love in me is fed,
Unmoveable am I, and they ſtedfaſt.
of finging-birds, they have the tune and note,
And I alwayes plaintes paffing through my throte.
Charging of Lis love as unpiteous and loving ethere
Is amorous faith, or if an hart unfeined,
I fwete langenr, a great lovely defire,
If honeft will kindled in gentle fire,
If long errour in a blind maſe chained.
If in my vifage eche thought diſtained,
Or my fparking voice, lower or hier,
Which feare and fhame fo wofully dath tire,
If pale colour which love alas hath ſtained.
If to have another, then my ſelf more dere,
If waleing or fighing continually,
With forrowful anger feding bufily
If burned farr of and if friſing nere.
Are caufe that I by love my felf deſtroye,
Yours is the fault, and mine the great annoy.
A renouncing of love.
FAREWELL love, and all thy lawes for ever,
Thy bated hookes fhall tangle me no more,
Seneca, and Plato call me from thy lore,
To parfit welth my witt for to endever.
In blind error when I did perfever.
Thy ſharp repulfe, that pricketh aye fo fore
Taught me in trifles that I fet noe ftore,
But fcape forth thence fince libertie is lieffer.
Therefore farewell go trouble younger harts,
And in time claime noe more auctoritic,
With idle youth goe ufe thy propertie,
And thereon (pend thy many brittle dartes.
For hitherto though I have loft my time,
Me litt no longer rotten bowes to clime,
The lover for faketh bis unkind love.
My hart I gave thee not to doe it paine,
But to preferve lo it to thee was taken,
I ferved thee, thee not that I fhould be forfaken,
But that I fhould receive reward againe.
I was content, thy fervant to remaine,
And rot to be repayed on this faſhion,
Now fince in thee there is no other reafun,
Diſpleaſe thee not if that I de refraine.
Unfatiat of my wo and thy defire,
Affured by craft for to excuſe thy fault,
But fince it pleaſeth thee to fain default,
Farewell I fay, departing from the fire.
For he that doth believe bearing in hand,
Ploweth in the water and foweth in the fand.
The lover defcribeth bis refileffe flate.
THE flameing fighes that boyle within my breaſt,
Sometime break forth and they can well declare,
The hartes unreſt, and how that he doth fear,
The paine thereof, the griefe, and all the reft.
6
1
SONGES AND SONETTE S.
629
The fhattered eyen from whence the teares do fail,
Do feel fome force or elce they would be diy,
The waſted flesh of colour ded can try,
Ard fometime tell what ſweetneſs in the gall.
And he that luft to fee, and to difcearne,
How care can force within a weried mind,
Come he to me I am that place afinde,
But for all this noe force, it doth noe harme,
The wounde alas hap in fome other place,
From whence noe toole away the fear can race.
But you which of fuch like have had your part,
Can beſt be judge wherefore my friend fo dere,
I thought it good my ftate fhould now appere,
To you, and that there is no great defart.
And whereas you in weighty matters great,
Of fortune faw the fhaddow that you know
For trifling things I now am ftricken foe.
That though I feel my hart doth wound and beat,
I fit alone fave on the fecond day,
My fever comes with whome I ſpend my time,
In burning heat while that ſhe lift affigne,
And who hath helth and liberty alway,
Let him thank God, and let him not provoke,
To have the like of this my painfull troke.
The lover laments the deaths of bis love,
Tue piller perifht is whereto I lent,
The frongeſt ſtay of mine unquiet minde;
The like of it no man agayn can fynde,
From east to west ftill fecking though he went,
To myne unhappe forhappe away hath rent.
Of all my joy the very bark and rinde,
And I (alas!) by chaunce am thus affinde,
Dayly to mourn, till death do it relent.
But fince that thus it is by deftiny,
What can I more but have a wofull hart,
My penne in plaint my voice in carefull crye,
My mynde in woe my body full of fmart,
And I my felf, my felf alwayes to hate,
Tyll dreadfull death doe cafe my dolefull fate.
The lover fendeth fiabes to move Lis j'uite.
GoE burning fighes unto the frozen hart,
Goe break the yce which pities painfull dert,
Might never pierce, and it that mortall prayer,
In heaven be heard at leaſt yet I d.fyre,
That death, or mercy, end my wofull fmart.
Take with thee paine whereof I have my part,
And eke the flame from which I cannot flart.
And leave me then in reft I you require,
Coe burning fighs fulfill that I defire.
I muſt goe worke, and ſee my craft and arte,
For truth and faith in her is laid apart,
Alas I cannot therefore now aſſayle her,
With pitifull complaint and fcalding fire,
That from my breft deceivebly doth ſtart.
Complaint of the abfence of bis love.
cay,
SOE feeble is the thred that doth the burden ſtay,
Of my poor life in heavy plight that falleth in de-
[cours,
That but it have elſewhere fome ayde or fome fuc-
The running ſpindle of my fate anon fhall end his
[part,
For fince the unhappy houre that dyd me to de-
From my ſweet weale one only hoape hath ſtayed
my life apart,
courfe.
Which doth perfwade fuch words unto my fored
mynde,
(luck to find.
Maintaine thy felfe, O wofull wight, fome better
For though thou be deprived from thy defired
fight,
Who can thee tell, if thy returne before thy more
delight :
Or who can tell thy lofs if thou mayſt once recover,
Some pleafant houres thy wo may wrap, and thee
defend and cover.
Thus in this truſt, as yet it hath my life ſuſtained,
But now (alas) I fee it faint, and I by truft am
trayned.
[bende,
The tyme doth flete, and I fee how the hours do
So faſt that I have fcant the ſpace to marke my
comeing end.
[his lite,
Weftward the funn from out the eaft fcant fhewd
When in the weft he hies him ftraite within the
dark of night
And comes as faft, where he began his path awry,
From eaft to weft, from west to east, fo doth his
[here,
journey lye.
Thy lyfe fo fhort ſo frayle, that mortall men lyve
Soe great a weight, fo heavy charge the bodyes
that we bere.
That when I think upon the diſtance and the ſpace,
That doth fo farre divide me from thy dere defired
face.
[quire,
I know not how t' attaine the winges that I re-
To lyft me up that I might fly to follow my de-
fyre.
[fuftyne,
Thus of that hope that doth my lyfe fomethyng
Alas I fear, and partly feel full little doth remaine.
Eche place doth bring me griefe where I doe not
beheid,
Thofe lively eyes which of my thoughts, were wont
the keys to hold.
Thofe thoughts were pleaſant fweet whilft I en-
joy'd that grace,
My pleaſure paſt, my prefent pain, when I might
well embrace.
And for becaufe my want fhould more my wee
increaſe,
In watch and fleep both day and night my will
doth never ceafe.
That thing to withe whereof fyace I did loſe the
fight,
Was never thing that mought in ought my wofull
hart delight.
Th' uncafy life I lead doth teach me for to mete,
The foods, the feas, the land, the hills, that doth
them intermete.
Rr iij
630
THE WORKS OF WYAT.
Twene me and thofe fhene lights that wonted for
to ciere,
My darked pangs of cloudy thoughts as bright as
Phebus fphere;
It teacheth me alfo, what was my pleaſant ſtate,
The more to feele by fuch record how that my
welth doth bate.
If ſuch record (alas) provoke the inflamed mynde,
Which fprung that day that I dyd leave the beſt of
me behynde.
If love forgeat himfelfe by length of abfence let,
Who doth me guid (O wofull wretch) unto this
baited net :
[for me,
Where doth encreaſe my care, much better were
As dumm as ftone all things forgott, ftill abfent
for to be.
Alas the clear chriftall, the bright tranfplendant
glaffe,
[it hafe.
Doth not bewray the colours hid which underneath
As doth the accumbred fprite the thoughtfull
throwes difcover,
[we cover.
Of teares delyte of fervent love that in our hartes
Out by thefe eyes, it fheweth that evermore delight;
In plaint and teares to feek redrefs, and eke both
day and night.
Thofe kindies of pleaſures moft wherein men foc
rejoice,
[voice
To me they do redouble fill of ftormy fighes the
For, I am one of them, whom plaint doth well
[lament.
content,
>
It fits me well my abfent wealth me femes for to
And with my teares t' affy to charge myne eyes
twayne,
Like as my hart above the brink is fraughted full
of payne.
And for becauſe thereto, that thefe fair eyes do
treate,
[repeate.
Do me provoke, I will returne, my plaint thus to
For here is nothing els, ſo toucheth me within,
Where they rule all, and I alone, nought but the
cafe or ſkin.
Wherefore I thail,eturne to them as well or fpring,
From whom defcends my mortall wo, above all
other thing.
So fhall nyne cyes in paine accompany my hart,
That were the guides, that did it lead of love to
feel the fmart.
[pride,
The crifped gold that doth furmount Appolloes
The lively freames of pleafant ftaris that under
it doth glyde.
Wherein the beames of love doe fill increase theire
heate,
[me fweat,
Which yet fo far touch me to near in cold to make
The wife and pleafant take, foe rase or elfe alone,
That gave to me the curties gyft, that carft had
never none.
Be far from me alas, and every other thing,
I might forbear with better will, then this that
did me bring.
With pleaſand woord and cheer, redrefs of lingred
payne,
[trayne.
Ard wonted oft in kindled will, to vertue me to
Thus am I forc'd to hear and hearken after news,
My comfort fcant, ny large defire in doubtful
truft renews,
| And yet with more delight to move my wofull cafe.
I must complaine thefe hands, thofe armes, that
firmly do embrace.
Me from my felf, and rule the fterne of my poor
lyfe,
The fweet difdaynes, the pleaſant wrathes, and
cke the holy frife.
That wonted well to tune in temper juſt and mete,
The rage, that oft did make me err by furour un-
difcrete.
[hills,
All this is hid from me with fharp and ragged
At others will my long abode, my depe dyfpayr
fulfills.
And of my hope fometime ryfe up by fome redreffe,
It ſtumbleth traite for feable faint my fear hath
fuch exceffe.
Such is the fort of hoape, the leſs for more defyre,
And
Jet
I truſt e're that I dye, to fee that I require.
The refting place of love, where virtue dwells and
and growes,
[repofe,
There I defire my weary life fometime may take
My fong thou fhalt attaine, to find the pleaſant
place,
Where the doth live by whom I live, may chance
to have this grace.
When the hath read and feen, the griefe wherein
I ſerve,
Between her brefts fhe fhall the put, there fhall
the thee referve.
Then tell her, that I come, fhe fhall me fhortly fee,
And if for waight the body fayl, the foul fhall to
her flee.
The lover blameth his love for renting of the letter be
fent ber.
SUFFISED not (madame) that
you did teare,
My wofull hart, but this alfo to rent,
The weeping paper that to you I fent,
Whereof echi letter was written with a tear.
Could not my prefent paynes (alas) fuffite,
Your greedy heart, and that my heart doth feel,
Torments that prick more fharper than the feel,
But new and new muft to my lott aryle,
Ufe then my death, foe fball your crueltye,
Spite of your ipyte, rid me from all my imart,
And I no more iuch torments of the hart,
Feel as I doe this ſhall you gayne thereby.
The lover curfeth the tyme when fyrft he fell in love,
WHEN fyrſt myne eyes did view and mark,
Thy fayr beauty to behold,
And when my ears lyfned to hark,
The pleafant woords that thou me tolde.
I would as then I had been free,
From ears to hear, and eyes to fee.
And when my lipps gan fyrſt to mone,
Whereby my hart to thee was knownė,
And when my tongue dyd talke of love,
To thee that haft true love downe throwna,
SONGES
635
AND SONETTE S.
i would my lipps and tongue alfoe,
Had then been damme, no deal to goe.
And when my hands have handled ought,
That thee hath kept in memory,
And when my feet have gone and fought,
To find and get the company.
I would each hand a foot had beene,
And I each foot a hand had feen.
And when in mind I dyd conſent,
To follow this my fancies will,
And when my hart did firſt relent,
'To taſt ſuch bait my life to ſpill.
I would my hart had been as thine,
Or els thy hart had been as myne.
The lover determineth to ferve faithfully,
SINCE love will needs, that I fhall love,
Of very force I muſt agree,
And fince no chaunce may it remove,
In wealth and in adverfitie.
I fhall alway my felfe apply,
To ferve and fuffer patiently.
Though for good will I finde but hate,
And cruelly my life to waft,
And though that fill a wretched ſtate,
Should pyne my days unto the laſt :
Yet I profefs it willingly,
To ſerve and fuffer patiently.
For fince my hart is bound to ferve,
And I not ruler of myne owne,
What foe befall, tyll that I fterve,
By proofe full well it fhall be knowne.
That I ſhall ſtill my ſelf apply,
To ſerve and ſuffer patiently.
Yet though my griefe finde noe redreſs,
But ftill encreafe before myne eyes,
Though my reward be cruelneffe,
With all the harme, happs can devyfe,
Yet I profeſs it willingly,
To ferve and fuffer patiently.
Yea though fortune her pleaſant face,
Should fhew, to fet me up aloft,
And ftraight my wealth for to deface,
Should wrythe away, as the doth oft.
Yet would I ſtill my felf applye,
To ferve and fuffer patiently.
There is no griefe, no fmert, no wo,
That yet I feel, or after fhall,
That from this minde may make me goe,
And whatſoever me befall,
I do profefs it willingly,
To ferve and fuffer patiently.
At length I do not doubt,
But truth fhall me excufe.
Such fauce, as they have ferved,
To me without defert,
Even as they have deſerved,
Thereof God fend them part,
The lover complaineth, and bis ladie comforteib.
Lover. It burneth yet, alas, my heartes defire,
Lady. What is the thing, that hath inflam'd thy
heart?
Lo. A certaine point as fervent as the fyre.
La. The heat ſhall ceaſe if that thou wilt convert,
Lo. I cannot ſtop the fervent rageing yre,
La. What may I do, if thy felf caufe thy fmart?
Lo. Heare my requeſt, and rew my weeping
chere
La. With right good will fay on, lo, I thee here.
Lo. That thing would I, that maketh two content,
La. Thou ſeekeft, perchaunce of me, that I may
not.
Lo. Would God, thou wouldeft, as thou mayît,
well affent.
La. That I may not the griefe is myne, God wor,
Lo. But if I feele, whatfo thy woordes have
ment.
La. Sufpe& me not, my woordes be not forgett.
Le. Then ſay, alas! fhall I have help or no.
La. I fee no time to anfwer, yea, but no.
Lo. Say yea, dere hart, and ftand no more in
doubt.
La. I may not grant a thing that is fo dere.
Lo. Lo with delayes, thou dryves me fiill aboot.
La. Thou wouldeft my death, it plainly doth ap-
[cut.
peare.
Lo. Firt may my heart his blood, and life blede
Ia. Then for my fake, alas! thy will forbeare.
Lo. From day to day, thus waftes my iyfe away.
La. Yet for the beſt, fuffre fome fmale delay.
Lo. Now good, ſay yea, do once ſo good a dede,
La. If I fayd yea, what ſhould therecf enfve?
Lo. An heart in payne of fuccour ſo ſhould ſpede,
Twixt yea, and nay, my dout fhall ftill renew,
My fwete, fay yea, and do away this drede.
La. Thou wilt nedes fo, be it fo, but then be trew,
Lo. Nought would I elfe, nor other treafvie none,
Thus hearts be wonne by love, request, and
mone.
The lover fuſpected, blameth ill tongues.
MISTRUSTFULL minds be moved,
To have me in fufpect,
The truth it ſhall be proved,
Which time fhall once detect.
Though falfhed goe about,,
Of crime to me accuſe,
Why lose is blinde.
Or purpoſe, love choſe firſt for to be blinde,
For he with fight of that, that i beholde,
Vanquish❜t had been, againſt all godly kynde,
His bow your hand, and truffe ſhould have un-
fold.
And be with me to ferve had been affinde,
But, for he blind, and reckleſs would him hold
And ftill, by chance, his dredly strokes beſtow
With fuch, as fee, I ferve, and ſuffer wo.
Rriiij
2
638
THE WORKS OF WYAT.
To bis unkinde lose
WHAT rage is this, what furor of what kynde,
What power, what plage, doch wery thus mye
mind. ?
Within my bones to rankle is affynde,
What poiſon pleaſant ſwete.
Lo fee myne eyes flow with continual teares,
The body ftill away fleepleffe it weares,
My foode nothing my fainting ftrength repayres
Nor doth my lim mee fuftayne.
[turne,
In depe wyde wound, the deadly ftroke doth
To cureleffe fkarre that never fhall returne,
Go to, triumph, rejoyce thy goodly tuṛne,
Thy frend thou doeſt oppreffe.
Oppreffe thou doeſt, and haft of him no cure,
Nor yet my plaint no pitie can procure,
Fierce tygre, fell, hard rocke without recure
Cruell rebell to love.
Once may thou love, never be loved again,
So love thou ſtill, and not thy love obtayne,
So wrathfull love with fpites of juſt difdaine,
May thret thy cruell hart.
The lever blameth bis infant defyre.
DESTRE, (alas!) my maifter, and my foe,
So fore altered thy felfe, how maiſt thou fee,
Some time thou feckett, and dryves me to and fro,
Some time thou leadeit, that leadeth thee and me,
What reafon is to rule thy fubjects ſo,
By forced law and mutabilitie?
For where by thee I doubted to have blame,
Even now by hate agayne I doubt the fame.
The lover complaineth bis eßate.
I SEE that chance hath chofen me,
Thus fecretly to live in payne,
And to another geven the free,
Of all my loffe to have the gayne,
By chance aflinde thus do I ferve,
And other have that I deſerve.
Unto my felf fome time alone,
I do lament my wofull cafe,
But what availeth me to mone,
Since truth and pitie hath no place,
In them, to whom I fue and ſerve,
And other have that I deferve.
To feke by meane to change this mind,
Alas, I prove it will not be,
For in my heart I cannot finde,
Once to refrayne, but ſtill agree
As bound by force alway to ſerve,
And other have that I deferve.
Such is the fortune that I have,
To love them moft, that love me left,
And to my payne to feek and crave
The thing, that other have poffeft,
So thus in vaine alway I ſerve,
And other have that I deſerve,
And till I may appeale the heale,
If that my happe will happe fo well
To wayle my wo my heart fhall freate
Whole penfif payne my tong can tell,
Yet thus unhappy mult 1 ferve,
And other have that I deferve.
Of his love called Anna.
WHAT woord is that, that changeth not,
Though it be tunde and made in twayne,
It is mynne, Anna, Ged it wote
The only caufer of my payne,
My love that medeth with disdaine,
Yet is it loved, what will you more,
It is my falve, and eke my fore.
That pleaſure is mixed with every paine.
VENEMOUS thornes that are fo fharpe and kene,
Beare flowers we fee, full fresh and fayre of hue,
Poyfen is alſo put in medicine,
And unto man his health doth oft renue,
The fyre that all things eke confumeth clene,
May hurt and heale: then if that this be true,
I truſt fome time my harm may be my health,
Sins every woe is joyned with fome wealth.
A riddle of a gyft geven by a ladie.
A LADY gave me a gift ſhe had not,
And I received her gift which I took not,
She gave it me willingly, and yet fhe would not,
And I received it albeit I could not.
If the give it me I force not,
And if ſhe take it again fhe cares not,
Confter what this is and tell not,
For I am faft fworne, I may not.
That ſpeaking or profiring bringes alway ſpeding,
SPEAKE thou and fpede, where will or power
ought helpeth,
[by welth:
Where power doth want, will muft be wonne
For nede will fpede, where will workes not his
kynde,
[fynd.
And gayne, thy foes thy frendes fhall caufe thee
For fute and golde, what do not they obtayne,
Of good and bad the tryers are theſe wayne.
He ruleth not, though he reigne over realmes, that is
fubject to bis owne luftes.
Ir thou wilt mighty be, flee from the rage,
Of cruell will, and ſee thou kepe the free,
1
SONGES AND SONETTES.
棄
​639
:
From the foul yoke of ſenſual bondage,
For though thine empire ftretchte to Indian fee,
And for thy fear trembleth the fardeth Thules,
If thy defyre have over thee the power,
Subject then art thou, and no governour.
If to be noble and high thy mind be moved,
Confider well thy grounde and thy beginning,
For he that hath eche ſtarre in heaven fixed,
And gives the moone her hornes and her eclipúng.
A lyke hath made the noble in his working,
So that wretched no way may thou be,
Except foule luft and vyce doe conquer thee,
All wer that fo thou had a flood of golde,
Unto thy thirst yet fhould it not fuffice.
And though with indian ftones a thouſand folde,
More precious then can thy felf deviſe.
Ycharged were thy backe, thy covetife,
And buy byting yet fhould never let,
Thy wretched lyfe, nede do thy death profet.
Of gold, I ſay, where he preparde this dede
And in exchange, he left the corde tho'
He that hid the golde, and found it not,
Of that he found he fhapt his kneck a knot.
yere
Defeription of a genne.
VULCANE begat me, Minerva me taught,
Nature my mother, craft nourisht me yere by
[naught,
Three bodies are my foode; my ftrength is in
Anger, wrath, waſte, and noyſe, are my children
dere.
Geffe frende, what I am, and how I am wraught,
Monſter of fea or of lande, or of els where
Know me, and uſe me, and I may thee defend,
And if I be thine enemie I may thy life ende,
Whether libertie by leffe of life, or life in prifon end
thraldome, be to be preferred.
LYKE as the byrde within the cage inclofed,
The dore unfparred, her foe the hawke without
Twixt death and prifon pitiouſly oppreffed,
Whether for to chooſe ftandeth in dout.
1.o ſo do I, which ſcke to bring about,
Which should be beft by determination
By lofie of life, libertie, or lyfe by priſon.
O mifchief by miſchief to be redreſſed,
Where payne is beft there lyeth but little plea-
fure,
By fhort death better to be delivered,
Then byde in painfull lyfe, thraldome and dolour.
Small is the pleature where much payne we fuf-
fer,
Rather therefore to chufe me thinketh wiſdome,
By lofs of lyfe libertie, then lyfe by priſon.
And yett me thinkes although I live and fuffer,
I do but wayte a time and fortunes chance,
Oft niany thinges do happen in one hower,
That which opprett me now may me advance,
In time is truft which by deathes grevaunce
is wholy loft. Then were it not reaſon
By death to chuſe libertie, and not life by prifon,
But death wer deliverance where lif lengthens
paine,
Of theſe two illes let fee now chufe the beſt,
This bird to deliver that here doth plaine;
What fay ye lovers, which fhal be the beft?
In cage thraldome, or by the hawke oppreft;
And which to chufe, make plain conclufion
By lofs of lyfe libertie, or lyfe by prifon,
|
Wyat being in priſon to Bryan.
SIGRES are my foode, my drink are my teares,
Clinking of fetters would fuch mufike crave,
Stink, and cloſe ayre, away my life it weares,
Poor innocence is all the hope I have,
Rayne, wynde, or weather, judge I by myne ears,
Malice aflautes that righteoufneffe fhould have.
Sure am I, Bryan, this wound fhall heale againe,
But yett, alas! the fkarre fhall ftill remaine
Of diſſembling woords.
THROUGHOUT the world if it were fought,
Fayre words ynoughe a man fhall fynde;
They be good chepe, they coſt right nought,
Their fubftance is but only wynde :
But well to fay, and fo to meane,
That fwete accorde is ſeldome fene.
Of the mean and fure eftate,
STAND whofo lis upon the flipper wheele,
Of high eſtate, and let me here rejoyce,
And ute my life in quietneffe eche dele,
Unknowne in court that hath the wanton joyes,
In hidden place my time fhall flowly paffe,
And when my yeres be pait without annoyfe,
Let me dye old after the common trace,
For grypes of death do he too hardly paſs;
That knowne is to all, but to himſelf, alas!
He dyeth unknown dafed with dreadfull face.
Against bourders of money.
FOR fhamefaft harme of great and hatefull nede,
In depe difpayre, as did a wretch go,
With ready corde out of his life to fpede,
His fumbling foot did fynde an hoorde, lo,
The courtiers life.
IN court to ferve decked with freſhe araye,
Of fugared meates feling the ſwete repaft,
634
OF WYAT.
THE WORKS
The lyfe in bankets and fundry kyndes of playe.
Amid the preffe the worldly lookes to waste.
Hath with it joined of times fuch bitter taste,
That who fo joyes fuch kinde of life to holde,
In prifon joyes fettred with chaines of golde,
Of diſappointed purpose by negligence.
Or Carthage he that worthy warriour,
Could overcome, but could not uſe his chance
And I likewyfe of all my long endeavour,"
The fharp conqueft though fortune did avance,
Ne could I ufe, the hold that is given over.
I unpoffeffe, ſo hangeth now in balance.
Of warre, my peace, rewarde of all my payne,
At Mountzon thus I reftlefs reft in Spaine.
Of his returne from Spayne.
TAGUS farewell that weftward with thy ftremes,
Turnes up the graines of golde already tryde,
For I with fpurre and faile go feke the Temmes,
Gayneward the funne that fheweth her welthy
pride;
And to the towne that Brutus fought by dreames,
Like bended moon that leaves her lufty fyde,
My king, my country, I feke for whom I live,
O mighty Jove the wyndes for this me geve.
Of fodaine trufting.
DRIVEN by defyre I did this ded,
To danger my ſelf without cauſe why,
To trust th' untrue not lyke to fpede,
To fpeake and promiſe faithfully.
But now the proofe doth verify,
"That who fo trufteth ere he know,
Doth hurt himſelf and pleaſe his foe.
That for becauſe her livelod was but thinne,
Would needs go fee her townish fifters houſe.
She tought her felf endurde to grievous payne,
The ftormy blaftee her cave fo fore did foufe;
That when the furrous fwimmed with the rayne,
She muft lye cold and wet in fory plight,
And worſe then that bare meate ther did remayne,
To comfort her, when she her houſe had dight.
Some tyme a barley corne, fome time a beane,
For which the laboured hard both day and night,
In harvest tyme, whyle fhe might go and gleane,
And when her ftore was ftroyed with the floode,
Then welaway for fhe undone was clene,
Then was the faine to take inſtede of foode
Slepe if he might, her hunger to begyle,
My fifter, quoed fhe, hath a living good,
And hence from me fhe dwelleth not a myle;
In colde and ftorme fhe lyeth warm and drye
In bed of downe, the durt doth not defyle
Her tender foot, fhe labours not as I.
Richely fhe fedes and at the riche mannes cost,
And for her meate the nedes not crave nor cry,
By fea, by land, of delicates the moſt
Her cater fekes, and fpareth for no perell,
She fedes on boyld mcate, bake meate and on roft,
And hath therefore no whit of charge nor travell
And when the lift, the licour of the grape
Doth glad her heart, till that her belly fwell;
And at this journey makes fhe but a jape,
So forth fhe goes, trufting of all this wealth,
With her fifter her part fo for to fhape,
That if ſhe might there kepe herſelf in health,
To live a lady while her life doth laft,
And to the dore now is the come by ftealth,
And with her foote anone fhe fcrapes full faft,
Th' other for feare durft not well fcarce appeare
Of every noife fo was the wretch agaft
At laft, ſhe aſked foftly who was there,
And in her language as well as ſhe could,
Pepe (quod the other) fifter I am here.
Peace (quod the towne moufe) why fpeake
thou fo loude,
And by the hand ſhe took her fayre and well,
Welcome, quod fhe, my fifler by the roode,
She feafted her, that joy it was to tell,
The fayre they had, they drank the wyne fo clere,
And as to purpofe now and then it fell
Of the mother that eat her child at the frege of Fe- | She chered her, with how fifler what chere?
rufalem.
IN doubtfull breft whyles motherly pitty,
With furious famine ftandeth at debate
The mother faith, O child unhappy,
Return thy blood where thou hadst milke of late.
Yeld me thofe lymmes that I made unto thee,
And enter there where thou wer generate,
For of one body againſt all nature,
To another muft I make fepulture.
Of the means and fure eftate, written to John Poynes.
My mothers maides when they do fow and ſpinne,
They fing a fong made of a fieldiſh mouſe,
Amid this joy befell a fory chance,
That welaway, the ſtranger bought full dere,
The fare fhe had, for as fhe lookte a fkunce,
Under a ſtole the fpied two fleming eyes
In a rounde heade with fharp cares: In France
Was never moufe fo ferde, for the unwyfe
Had not yfene ſuch a beaſt before,
Yet had nature taught her after guyſe
To know her foe, and dread him evermore;
[was fo
The towne nioufe fled, fhe knew whither to go,
The other had no ſhift, but wonders fore,
Ferde of her life, at home fhe wifht her tho',
And to do, alas! as the did fkippe,
The heaven it would, lo! and eke her chaunce
At the thresholde her fely foote did trippe,
And ere he might recover it again,
The traytour cat had caught her by the hippe,
SONGES AND
635
SONETTES.
And made her there againſt her will remayne,
That had forgot her poore fuertie, and reft,
Forfeking welth, wherein the thought to raygne.
Alas! (my Poynes) how men do feke the beft,
And finde the worſe, by error as they ſtaye;
And no marvell, when fight is fo oppreft,
And blindes the guyde, anone out of the way
Goeth guyde, and all in ſeking quiet life.
O wretched myndes there is no golde that may,
Graunt that you feek, no warre, no peace, no
ftrife,
No, no, although thy head were hoopte with gold,
Serjeant with mace, with hawbert, fword, nor
knife,
Can not repulfe the care that folow fhould,
Ehe kynde of lyfe hath with him his diſeaſe,
Live in delites, even as thy luft woulde,
And thou fhalt finde when luft doth moſt thee
pleafe,
It yrketh ſtraight, and by itſelf doth fade.
A fmall thing is that, that may thy minde appeaſe:
None of you all there is, that is fo madde
To feke for grapes on brambles, or on briers,
For none I trow, that hath a witte ſo badde
To fet his hay for conies over rivers,
Nor ye fet not a dragge net for an hare;
And yet the thing that moft is your deſire,
You do miflike, with more travell and care
Make plaine thine heart that it be not knotted
With hope or dreade, and fee thy will be bare
From all affectes, whom vyce hath never ſpotted;
Thyſelf content with that is thee affynde,
And ufe it well that is to thee allotted:
Then feke no more out of thy ſelf to fynde
The thing that thou haft fought fo long before;
For thou shalt feele it ſticking in thy mynde
Made, if ye lift to continue your fore,
Let prefent paffe, and gape on time to come,
And depe thy felf in travell more and more,
Henceforth (my Poynes) this fhall be all and fome,
Thoſe wretched fooles fhall have nought els of
me:
But, to the great God, and to his dome,
None other payne pray I for them to be,
But when the rage doth leade them from the right
That looking backward vertue they may fee
Even as he is fo goodly, fayre and bright;
And whylft they claipe theyr lufts in armes
acroffe,
Graunt them, good Lord, as thou maiſt of thy
might,
To freat inward, for lofing fuch a lofs.
Of the courtiers life, written to John Poynes.
MYNE Own, John Poynes, fins ye delight to know
The caules why that homeward I me draw,
And flee the preaſe of courtes, wherefo they goe,
Rather then to live thrall under the awe
Of lordly lookes, wrapped within my cloke,
To will and luft learning to fet a law
It is not, that becauſe I ftorme or mocke
The power of them whom fortune here hath lent
Charge over us, of right to ſtrike the ſtroke;
But true it is, that I have always ment
Lefs to eſteeme them, then the common fort,
Of outward thinges that judge in their entent÷
Without regarde, what inward doth reſort,
I graunt, fome time of glory that the fyre,
Doth touch my heart, me lift not to report.
Blame by honour and honour to defyre.
But how may I this honour now attaine,
That cannot dye the colour blacke a lyer?
My Poynes, I cannot frame my tune to fayn.
To cloke the truth, for praife without defert,
Of them that lift all vice for to retayne,
I cannot bonour them that ſet theyr part
With Venus and Bacchus all their life long.
Nor hold my peace of them, although I ſmart,
I cannot crouche nor knele to fuch a wronge.
To worship them like God on earth alone,
That are as wolves theſe fely lambes among,
I cannot with my woordes complayne and mone.
And ſuffer nought nor fmart without complaint,
Nor turne the word that from my mouth is gone,
I cannot ſpeak and looke like a faint.
Ufe wyles for wit, and make defceit a pleaſure,
Call craft counfaile, for lucre ftill to paynt,
I can not wreft the law to fyll the coffer
With innocent blood to feed my felf fatte,
And do moſt hurt where that moſt helpe I offer.
I am not he that can allow the ſtate,
Of hye Cæfer, and damne Cato to dye,
That with his death could fcape out of the gate,
From Cæfer's hands, if Livy doth not lye.
And would not live where liberty was loft,
So did his heart the common wealth apply,
I am not he, fuch eloquence to boſt,
To make the crow in finging, as the ſwanne;
Nor call the lyon of coward beaſtes the moſt,
That cannot take a mouſe, as the cat can,
And he that dyeth for honger of the golde,
Call him Alexander, and ſay that Pan
Paffeth Apollo in mufike many folde,
Praiſe Syr Copas for a noble tale,
And ſcorne the ſtory that the knight tolde,
Praiſe him for counſell that is dronke of ale.
Grinne when he laughes, that beareth all the fway,
Frowne when he frownes, and grone when he is
pale;
On others luft, to hang both night and day,
None of theſe pointes would ever frame in me,
My wit is nought, I can not learn the way,
And much the lefs of things that greater be.
That afken helpe of colours to devife,
To joyne the meane with eche extremitie,
With nereft vertue ay to cloke the vyce,
And as to purpofe likewife it fhall fall,
To preffe the vertue that it may not ryfe.
As dronkenneſs good felowſhip to call,
The frendly foe with his faire double face,
Say he is gentle, and curties therewithall,
| Affirme that favill hath a goodly grace.
In eloquence, and cruelty to name,
Zeale of juſtice, and change in time and place,
And he that fuffereth offence without blame,
Call him pitiefull, and him true and playne,
That rayleth rechlefs unto eche mans ſhame,
€36
THE WORKS OF WYAT.
Say he is rude, that cannot lye and fayne.
The lecher a lover and tyranny
To be right of a princes raigne,
I cannot, I, no, no, it will not be.
This is the cauſe that I could never yet
Hang on their fleves the weigh (as thow maift fee)
A chippe of chaunce, more then a pound of wit;
This makes me at home to hunt and hawke,
And in foul weather at my book to fit;
In froft and fnow, then with my bowe ftalke;
No man doth marke wherefo I ryde or goc;
In lufty leas at libertie I walke.
And of thefe newes I fele no weale no woe,
Save that a'clogge doth hang yett at my hele;
No force for that, for that is ordred fo,
That I may leape both hedge and dyke full wele.
I am not now in France to judge the wyne,
With favery fauce thofe delicates to feel,
Nor yet in Spayne, where one muſt him incline,
Rather then to be, outwardly to feme,
I meddle not with wittes that be ſo fyne,
Nor Flanders chere lettes not my fight to deme,
Of black and white nor taket my wittes away,
With beaſtlinefs, fuch doe thofe beaftes efteme,
Nor I am not, where truth is geven in pray
For money, pryfon, and treafon, of ſome
A common practice ufed night and daye;
But I am here in Kent and Chriftendome,
Among the mufes, where I reade and ryme,
Where if thou lift, mine own John Poynes to come,
Thou shalt be judge, how I do ſpende my tyme,
Yet will I ferve my prince, my lord, and thyde,
And let them live to fede the paunch that lift,
So I live to fede both me and myne,
may
By God well fayd. But what and if thou wiſt
How to bring in, as faft as thou doeft fpende
That would I learne, and it fhall not be miſt
To tell the how. Now harke what I intende
Thou knoweft well firft, who fo can feke to pleaſe,
Shal purchaſe frendes, where trouth fhall but of-
fende,
Flee therefore truth, it is both welth and eaſe,
For though that trouth of every man hath praiſe,
Full neare that wynde goth trouth in great mifeafe,
Ufe vertue, as it goeth now a dayes,
In woord alone to make thy language fwete,
And of the dede, yet doe not as thou fayes,
Els be thou fure, thou fhalt he farre unmete,
To geat thy bread, eche thing is now fo fkant,
Seke ſtill thy profit upon thy bare fete,
Lend in no wife for fear that thou do want;
Unleſs it be, as to a calfe a chefe,
But if thou can be fure to win a cant
Of half at leaſt, it is not good to leefe.
Learne at the ladde, that in a long white cote,
From under the ftall withouten landes or fee,
Hath lept into the fhoppe, who knowes by rote,
This rule that I have tolde thee here before,
Sometime alfo riche age begynnes to dote,
Se thou when there thy gayne may be the more,
Stay him by the arme where fo he walk or goe,
Be nere alway, and if he cough to fore,
What he hath ſpyt treade out, and pleaſe him fo
A diligent knave that pykes his maifters purſe
May picafe him fo, that he withouten mo,
How to uſe the court and himſelf therin, written to Syr | Executour is, and what is he the worſe,
Fraunces Bryan.
A SPENDING hend that alway powreth out,
Had nede to have a bringer in as faſt,
And on the tone that ftill doth turne about,
There groweth no moffe: Thefe proverbes yet
doe last.
Reaſon hath ſet them in fo fure a place,
That length of yeres their force can never waſte :
When I remember this, and cke the cafe
Wherein thou ſtandſt, I thought forthwith to write.
(Bryan) to thee, who knowes how great a grace,
In writing is to counfayle man the right;
To thee, therefore, that trottes fyll up and downe,
And never reſts but running day and night,
From realme to realme, from citie, ftrete, and
towne;
Why doeft thou weare thy body to the bones,
And mighteſt at home fiepe in thy bedde of downe,
And drinke good ale fo nappy for the nones,
Fede thyself fatte and heape up pounde by pound,
Lykeſt thou not this? no, why? for fwine fo
groines
In ftye, and chaw dung moulded on the ground,
And drivel on pearles, with head ſtill in the man-
ger,
So of the harpe the affe doth heare the found,
So fackes of durt be filde. The neat courtier
So ferves for leffe, then do theſe fatted fwine,
Though I fcme leane and drye without a moiſter,
But if fo chance, thou get nought of the man,
The widow may for all thy payne diſburſe
A riveled ſkinne, a flinking breath, what than?
A tootheleffe mouth fhall doe thy lippes no harme;
The gold is good, and though fhe curfe or banne,
Yet where thee lift, thou mayft lye good and
warme ;
Let the old mule byte upon the brydle,
Whilft there do lye a fweter in thine arme,
In this alfo fee that thou be not ydle,
Thy ncce, thy cofin, fifter, or thy daughter,
If he be fayre, if hanfome be her middle,
If thy better hath her love beiought her,
Avaunce his caufe and he fhall helpe thy nede
It is but love, turne thou it to a laughter.
But ware I fay, fo gold the helpe and ſpede,
That in this cafe thou be not fo unwyfe,
As pander was in fuch a lyke dede,
| For he the foole of confcience was fo nyce,
That he no gayne would have for all his payne;
Be next thy felfe, for friendſhip bears no pryce.
Laugheft thou at me? why, do I ſpeak in vayne ?
No, not at thee, but at thy thryfty jeft;
Wouldeſt thou, I fhoulde for any loffe or gayne
Change that for golde that I have tane for beſt?
Next godly thinges, to have an honeſt name,
Should I leave that then take me for a beaſt.
Nay then farewel, ane if thou care for fhame
Content the with honeft povertic,
With free tong, what thee miflykes, to blame
SONGES AND SONETTES.
637
And for thy trouth fome time adverfitie,
And therewithall this gyft I fhall thee givè,
In this world now little profperitie,
And quoyne to kepe, as water in a five.
The fong of Jopas unfinifbed.
WHEN Dido feafted furft the wandring Trojan
knight,
Whom Junos wrath with ſtormes did force in Li-
bik fands to light.
That mighty Atlas taught the fupper lafting long,
With crifped lockes, in golden harpe Jopas fang
in fong:
[and name.
That fame (quod he) that we the world do call
Of heaven and earth with all contentes, it is the
very frame :
Of thus, of heavenly powers by more powre
kept in one,
Repugnant kindes, in middes of whom the earth
hath place alone.
{and nourſe,
Firme, rounde, of living things the mother. place
Without the which in egall weight this heaven
doth hold his courfe.
[ven,
And it is calde by name, the firft and moving hea-
'The firmament is placed next, containg other ſeven.
Of heavenly powers that fame is planted full and
thicke,
As fhining lights, which we call ftarres, that there-
in cleave and ſticke.
With great ſwift ſway the fyrſt, and with his reft-
lefs fours,
[nual cours.
Carieth itſelf, and all thofe eyght in even conti-
And of this world fo round within that rolling cafe,
Two points there be that never move, but firmly
kepe their place.
The tone we fee alway, the tother ſtands object,
Againſt the fame divyding juft, the ground by line
direct.
[th' other,
Which by ymagination, drawne from the one to
Toucheth the centre of the earth, for way there is
[not bright,
none other,
And theſe becalde the poles, defcride by ftarres
Artike the one northward we fee, Antartike tho-
ther hight
The lyne, that we deyfe from thone to thother fo,
As axell is, upon which the heavens about do go,
Which of water nor earth, of ayre nor fyre have
kinde;
Therefore the fubftance of thoſe fame were hard
for man to find;
But they been uncorupt, fimple and pure unmixt;
And ſo we fay been all thofe ftarres, that in the
fame be fixt;
And eke thofe erring feven, in cyrcle as they ftray,
So calde, becauſe againſt that fyrſt they have re-
pugnant way,
And ſmaller by ways too, fcant fenfible to man,
To bufy woorke for my poor harpe, let fing then
he that can,
The wydeft fave the fyrft of all theſe nyne above,
One hundred yere doth afke of ſpace for one de-
gree to move :
Of which decrees we make in the fyrft moving
heaven,
Three hundred and threefcore in partes, juftly
divided even;
And yet there is another between thofe heavens
two,
[for now.
Whoſe moving is fo flye fo flacke, I name it not
The feventh heaven, or the hell next to the ſtarry
ſkye,
[fo flie,
All thofe degrees that gathered up with aged pace,
And doth perfourme the fame, as elders count
hath bene,
In nine and twenty yeres complete, and days al-
moft fixteen,
Do carye in his bought the ſtarre of Saturne olde,
A threatner of all living things with drought, and
with his cold,
[pafe,
The fixt whom this conteins, doth ftalke with yonger
And in twelve yere doth fome what more then
thothers vyage was,
[nigae,
And thys in it doth beare the ſtarre of Jove be-
Twene Saturnes malice, and us men, friendly de-
[dayes,
The fifth beares bloudy Mars, that in three hundred
And twife eleven with one full yere hath finish't
all thofe wayes.
[fixe,
A yere doth afke the fourth, and howers therto
And in the fame the dayes eye, the fune therein
he ſtickes :
[me,
fending figne;
The thyrd that governde is by that, that governs
And love for love, and for no love provokes, a
oft we fee.
[the tother,
In like fpace doth perfourme that courſe, that dyd
So doth the next, the next unto the fame, that
fecond is in order.
But it doth beare the ſtarre, that calde is Mercury,
That many a crafty fecret ſteppe doth tread, as
Calcars trye,
[gone
That fkye is laft, and fixt next us thofe wayes hath
In feven and twenty common days, and cke the
third one;
[about.
And beareth with his fway the dyvers moone
Now bright, now brown, now bent, now full, and
now her light is out:
Thus have they of their owne two movinges all
theſe feven,
One, wherein they be carried ftill, eche in his
feveral heaven:
[layde
Another of themfelves, where theyr bodies be
In by waies, and in lefler roundes, as I afore have
fayde,
[the ftreight,
Save of them all the funne doth ftray leaft from
The ftarry skye hath but one courfe, that we have
calde the eight.
And all theſe movinges eyght are ment from west
to eaſt,
[eaft to weft;
Although they feeme to clyme aloft, I fay from
But that is but by force of theyr first moving ſkye,
In twife twelve howres from east to eaſt that car-
rieth them by and by.
But
marke me well alfo, the moving of theſe
feven,
[heaven;
Be not about the axletree of the fyrft moving
For they have theyr two poles directly tone to
the tother.
f
UNCERTAINE AUCTORS.
SONGES AND SONETTES:
A praife of his ladie.
GEVE
Geve place you ladies and be gone,
Boaft not your ſelves at all,
For here at hande approcheth one,
Whoſe face will ſtayne you all.
The vertue of her lively lookes
Excels the precious ſtone,
I wiſhe to have none other bookes
To reade or look upon.
In eche of her two chriftal eyes,
Smyleth a naked boy;
It would you all in heart fuffife
To fee that lampe of joye.
I think nature hath loft the moulde,
Where ſhe her ſhape did take;
Or elfe I doubte if nature coulde
So fayre a creature make.
She may be well comparde
Unto the Phenix kinde,
Whoſe like was never feene nor heard,
That any man can fynde.
In lyfe the is Diana chaft
In trouth Penelopey,
In woord and eke in dede ftedfaft;
What will you more we ſay:
If all the world were fought fo farre,
Who could finde fuch a wight,
Her beauty twinkleth lyke a ſtarre
Within the froſty night.
Her rofeall coulour comes and goes,
With fuch a comely grace,
More ruddier too, then doth the roſe,
Within her lively face.
At Bacchus feaft none fhall her mete,
Ne at no wanton playe,
Nor gafing in an open ftrete,
Nor gadding as aítray.
The modeft myrth that the doth uſe,
Is mixt with ſhamefaſtneſſe,
All vyce the doth wholy refuſe,
And hateth ydleneffe.
O lord it is a world to fee,
How vertue can repayre,
S
And decke in her fuch modeftie,
Whome nature made fo fayre.
Truely the doth as farre excede,
Our women now adayes,
As doth the jelifloure, a wede,
And more a thouſand wayes
How might I doe to get a graffe
Of this unfpotted tree:
For all the rest are playne but chaffe
Which feme good corne to bee.
This gyft alone I ſhall her geve,
When death doth what he can,
Her honeft fame ſhall ever live,
Within the mouth of man.
They of the meane eftate are
meane eftate are happieft,
Ie right be ract and overronne,
And power take part with open wronge,
If feare by force do yeld to fone,
The lacke is like to laft to long.
If God for goodes fhal be unplaced,
If right for riches lofes hys fhape,
If world for wifedome be embraced,
The geffe is great much hurt may hap.
Among good things I prove and finde,
The quiet lyfe doth moſt abound,
And fure to the contented mynde
There is no riches may be founde.
For riches hates to be content,
Rule is enemy to quietneffe,
Power is most part impacient,
And feldome lykes to live in peace.
I heard a heardman once compare,
That quiet nights he had mo flept
And had mo merydayes to fpare,
Then he which ought the beaft he kept.
I would not have it thought hereby,
The dolphin fwimme I mean to teach,
Nor yet to learne the fawlcon flye
I rowe not fo farre paft my reache,
SONGES AND SONETTES.
639
But as my part above the reſt,
Is well to with and well to will,
So tyll my breath fhall fayle my breft,
I will not ceaſe to wiſh you ftill.
'Till at the length when Cupide ſpied
My fcorneful wyll and fpiteful ufe,
And how I paft not who was tyed
So that my ſelf myght ſtill live loſe,
He fet himſelf to lye in waite
And in my way he threw a baite.
Such one as nature never made
I dare well fay fave ſhe alone,
Upon confideration of the state of this life he wished Such one fhe was as would invade
death.
THE longer life the more offence
The more offence the greater paine,
The greater paine the leffe defence,
The leffe defence the leffer gaine :
The lofs of gaine long yll doth trye,
Wherefore come death and let me dye.
The ſhorter life, leffe count I finde,
'The lefs account the fooner made,
The account foon made, the merier mind,
The merier mynd doth thought evade ;
Short life in truth this thing doth trye,
Wherefore come death and let me dye.
Com gentle death, the ebbe of care,
The ebbe of care, the flood of life,
The flood of life, the joyful fare,
The joyful fare, the end of ftrife,
The end of ftrife, that thing with I.
Wherefore come death and let me dye.
The lover that once difdained love, is now become fub-
ject being caught in his ſnare.
To this my fong give eare who lift
And mine entent judge as ye will,
The time is come that I have miſt
The thing whereon I hoped ftyll,
And from the toppe of all my truſt
Myſhap hath throwen me in the duft.
The time hath been and that of late,
My hart and I might leap at large;
And was not ſhut within the gate
Of love's defire, nor took no charge
Of any thing that did pertaine,
As touching love in any paine.
My thought was free my hart was lyght
I marked not who loft, who faught,
I plaide by day, I flept by night,
I forced not, who wept, who laught,
My thought from all fuch things was free,
And I my felf at libertie.
I toke no hede to tauntes nor toys
As leef to fee them frowne as fmyle,
Where fortune laught I fcornde their joyes
I found their fraudes and every wyle,
And to my ſelf oft tymes I fmyled.
To fee how love had them begiled.
Thus in the net of my conceit,
I mafked ftill among the fort
Of fuch as fed upon the bayte
That Cupide laide for his difport,
And ever as I faw them caught
I them beheld and thereat laught.
A hart more hard then marble ſtone,
Such one fhe is, I know it right,
Her nature made to fhew her might.
Then as a man in a mafe
When uſe of reafon is away,
So I began to ftare and gaſe
And fodeinly, without delay
Or ever I had the wit to loke
I fwallowed up both bait and hooke.
Which daily grieves me more and more
By fundry fortes of careful wo,
And none alive may falve the fore
But only fhe that hurt me fo,
In whom my lyfe dothe now confiſt
To fave or flay me as the lyft.
But feeyng now that I am caught
And bounde ſo faſt I cannot flee.
Be ye by myne enſample taught
That in your fanfies fele you free
Defpyfe not them that lovers are
Left you be caught within his fnare.
Harpalus complaint of Philliades love beftorved on Co-
rin, who loved her not, and denied him that levid
ber.
PHILLIDA was a fayre mayde
As freſh as any flowre
Whom Harpalus the heardman prayde
To be his paramour.
Harpalus and eke Corin
Were herdmen both yfere :
And Phillida could twift and fpinne,
And thereto fing full clere
But Phillida was all to coy
For Harpalus to winne,
For Corin was her only joy
Who forft her not a pinne.
How often would the flowers twine,
How often garlandes make
Of couflips and of columbine,
And all for Corins fake.
But Corin he had hawkes to lure
And forced more the field,
Of lovers law he took no cure
For once he was begylde
If Harpalus prevayled mought,
His labour all was loft,
For he was farthett from her thought,
And yet he loved her moft.
Therefore waxt he both pale and leane
And drye as clod of clay,
His flesh it was confumed cleane,
His colour gone away.
4:0
UNCERTAINE AUCTORS.
His beard it had not long be ſhave,
His heare hong all unkempt,
A man moft fit even for the grave
Whom fpitefull love had spent.
His eyes were read, and all forewatched,
His face befprent with teares,
It femde unhap had him long hatched,
In middes of hys difpayres.
His cloaths were black and alſo bare,
As one forlorne was he,
Upon his head he alwaies ware
A wreathe of willowe tree,
His beaftes he kept upon a hill,
And he fate in the dale,
And thus with fighs and forrows fhrill
He gan to tell his tale.
Oh Harpalus (thus would he fay)
Unhappieft under fonn,
The caufe of thine unhappy day
By love was fyrſt begunne.
For thou wentft first by fute to ſeeke
A tygre to make tame.
That fettes nor by thy love a leeke
But makes thy griefe her game.
As eaſy it were for to convert
The froft into the flame,
As for to turne a froward hart,
Whom thou fo feign wouldeſt frame.
Corin he liveth careleffe,
He leapes among the leaves,
He eates the fruites of thy redreſſe.
Thou reapes, he takes the fheaves.
My beaftes awhile your foode refraine,
And harke your heardſman's founde;
Whome ſpightful love alas! hath flayne,
Through gyrt with many a wounde.
O happly be ye beaſtes wild,
That here your paſtures takes;
I fee that ye be not begylde,
Of theſe your faithful mates.
The hart he feedeth by the hinde,
The buck hard by the do;
The turtle dove is not unkinde.
To him that loves her fo.
The ewe ſhe hath by her the ramme,
The young cow hath the bull;
'The calfe with many a lufty lambe,
Doe feed their hunger full.
But well away that nature wrought
Thee Phillida foe faire;
For I may fay that I have bought
Thy beauty all to deare.
What reafon is that crueltie,
With beauty ſhould have part :
Or else that fuch great tyranny,
Should dwell in woman's hart.
I fee therefore to fhappe my death
She cruelly is preſt.
To th' ende that I may want my breath,
My days been at the beſt.
O Cupide, graunt this my requeſt,
And do not stoppe thine eares;
That ſhe may feel within her breft,
The paynes of my defpayres.
Of Corin that is careleffe
That he may crave her fee,
As I have done in great diftreffe
That loved her faithfully.
But fince that I fhall dye her flave,
Her flave and eke her thrall;
Write you my friendes upon my grave,
This chaunce that is befall.
Here lyeth unhappy Harpalus,
By cruell love now flaine;
Whom Phillida unjustly thus,
Hath murdred with diſdaine,
Of the death of Philips.
BEWAILE with me all ye that have profeft
Of muficke th' arte, by touch of coarde or wird,
Lay down your lutes and let your gytterns rek
Philips is dead whofe like you cannot fynde,
Of muſicke much exceeding all the reſt;
Mufcs therefore of force now muft ye wreft
Your pleaſant notes into another founde,
The firing is broke, the lute is diſpoſſeſt,
The hande is colde, the body in the ground,
The lowring lute lamenteth now therfore,
Philips her trende, that can her touchc no more.
That all things fometime finde eaſe of thyr payne, face
only the lover.
I SEE there is no fort
Of things that live in griefe,
Which at fomețime may not refort
Whereas they have reliefe,
The ftricken dere by kinde
Of death that ftands in awe,
For his recure an herb can fynde,
The arrowe to withdrawe.
The chafed dere hath foyle,
To coole him in his heate;
The affe after his wery toyle,
In ftable is up fet.
The cony hath his cave,
The little byrd his neft,
From heate and colde themſelves to ſave,
At all times as they lift.
The owle with feble fight,
Lyes lurking in the leaves,
The fparrow in the frofty night
May ſhroude her in the eaves.
But wo to me, alas,
In funne nor yet in ſhade,
I cannot find a refting place,
My burden to unlade.
But day by day ſtill beares
The burden on my backe,
With weeping eyen and watry teares,
To holde my hope aback.
All things I fee have place,
Wherein they bowe or bende,
Save this, alas, my woful cafe,
Which no whers fyndeth ende.
SONGES AND SONETTES.
1
As time requires for my behove,
Tafaute of Cupide upon the fort where the lovers hart Methinks they are not mete.
lay wounded, and bow be was taken.
WHEN Cupide fcaled fyrſt the fort,
Wherein my heart lay wounded fore,
The batry was of ſuch a ſort
That I muſt yelde or dye therefore.
There faw I love upon the wall,
How he his banner dyd dyfplay,
Alarme, alarme, he 'gan to call,
And bade his fouldiours kepe aray.
The armes the which that Cupide bare,
Were pearced heartes with tears befprent,
In filver and fable to declare
The fledfaft love he always ment.
There myght you ſee his hand all dreft,
In colours like to whyte and blacke,
With powder and with pellets preft,
To bring the forte, to fpoyle and facke.
Good while the maiſter of the ſhot,
Stoode in the rampyre brave and proude,
For fpence of powder he ſpared not,
Affaulte, affaulte, to cry aloude.
There myght you heare the cannons rore,
Eche piece dyfcharged a lover's looke,
Which had the power to rent, and tore
In any place whereas they tooke.
And even with the trumpets fowne,
The fcaling ladders were up fet,
And beauty walked up and downe,
With bow in hand and arrowes whet
Then fyrft defyre began to fcale
And fhrowed him under his targe,
As one the worthieft of them all,
And apteft for to give the charge.
Then pushed fouldiours with theyr pykes,
And holbarders with handy ſtrokes,
The hargabufhe in fleſhe it lightes,
And dims the ayre with miſty ſmokes.
And as it is now fouldiers ufe,
When ſhot and powder gins to want,
Ihanged up my flag of truce,
And pleaded for my lyves graunt.
When fancy thus had made her breache,
And beauty entred with her bande,
With bag and baggage fely wretch,
I yelded into beauties hand.
Then beauty bad to blow retrete,
And every fouldiour to retyre,
And mercy mylde with fpede to feto
Me captive bound as prifoner.
Madame (quoth I) fith that this day
Hath ferved you at all affayes,
yelde to you without delay,
Here of the fortreffe all the kayes.
And fith that I have been the marke,
At whoni you fhot at with your eye,
Nedes muit you with your handy warke,
Or falve my fore, or let me dye.
The aged lover renounceth love,
}
I LOTHE that I dyd love,
In youth that I thought fwete,
VOL. I.
My luftes they do me leave,
My fancies all are fled,
And tract of time begynnes to weave
Gray heares upon my hed.
For age with ſtealing ſteppes
Hath clawde me with his crouche,
And lufty lyfe away the leapes
As there had been none fuch.
My mufe doth not delight
Me as the dyd before,
My hand and pen are not in plight,
As they have been of yore.
For reafon me denyes
This youthly ydle ryme.
And day by day to me cryes,
Leave of thefe toyes in tyme.
The wrinkles in my browe,
The furrows in my face,
Say lymping age will lodge hym now,
Where youth muft geve him place.
The harbinger of death,
To me I fee him ride,
The cough, the cold, the gafping breath
Doth byd me to provyde.
A pickax and a ſpade,
And eke a fhrowding fhete,
A houfe of clay for to be made,
For fuch a geaft moft mete.
Methinkes 1 hear the clarke
That knoles the carefull knell,
And byddes me leave my woful warkej
Ere nature me compell.
My kepers knit the knot,
That youth did laugh to fkorne,
Of me that cleane fhall be forgot,
As I had not been borne.
Thus muft I youth geve up,
Whoſe badge I long dyd weare,
To them I yelde the wanton cup,
That better may it beare..
Lo, here the bare hed ſkull,
By whofe balde figne I know,
That ftonping age away thall pull,
Which youthful yeres did fowe.
For beauty with her band
Theſe croked cares hath wrought,
And ſhipped me into the land,
From whence I fyrſt was brought,
And ye that byde behinde,
Have ye none other truft
As ye of clay were caft by kynd,
So fhall ye waſte to duft.
Of the death of Sir Thomas Wyat the Elder.
Lo, dead! he lives, that whilome lived here,
Among the dead, that quick goes on the ground,
Though he be dead, yet quick he doth appeare
By lively name, that death cannot confound,
His lyfe for ay of fame the trump fhall found,
Though he be dead, yet lives he here alive,
Thus can no death from Wyat life deprive.
$13
UNCERTAINE AUCTORS.
Of a new married ftudient that plaied faft or lofe.
A STUDIENT, at his boke fo plaſt,
That welth he might have wonne,
From boke to wife did flete in haft,
From welth to wo to runne,
Now, who hath plaid a feater caſt,
Since jugling firſt begonne?
In knitting of himſelf fo faft,
Himſelf he hath undonne.
The lover in defpare, lamenteth his cafe.
ADIEU, defert, how art thou ſpent ?
Ah! dropping tears, how do ye waſh?
Ah! fcalding fighes, how be yee ſpent.
To pricke them forth that will not hafte?
Ah! pained hart, thou gapft for grace,
Even then where pitie hath no place.
As cafy it is the ftony rocke
From place to place for to remove,
As by thy plaint for to provoke
A frozen hart from hate to love:
What fhould I fay? Such is thy lott,
To fawne on them that force thee not.
Thus mayft thou fafely fay and fweare,
That rigour raigneth and ruth doth faile,
In thankleffe thoughts my thoughts do weare;
Thy truth, thy faith may nought availe;
For thy good will, why fhould thou fo;
Still graft where grace it will not grow.
Alas! poor hart, thus haft thou ſpent
Thy flowring time, thy pleaſant yeres,
With fighing voice wepe and lament;
For of thy hope no fruite apperes:
Thy true meaning is paid with fcorne,
'That ever foweth, and reapeth no corne.
And where thou feckeft a quiet port,
Thou doft but weigh againſt the winde;
For where thou gladdeft wouldſt reſort,
There is no place for thee affinde :
Thy deftiny hath fett it ſo,
That thy true hart fhould cauſe thy wo.
Of his maiftreffe, M. B.
IN bayes I boaſt, whoſe branche I beare,
Such joy therein I finde,
That to the death I fhall it weare,
To eaſe my careleffe minde.
In heat, in cold, both night and day,
Her virtue may be ſene,
When other fruits and flowers decay,
The bay yett grows full green;
Her beries fede the birdes full oft;
Her leves fwete water make,
Her bowes be ſet in every loft
For their fwete favours fake:
The birdes do fhroud them from the cold,
In her we daily fee;
And men made arbers as they would,
Under the pleaſant tree.
It doth me good when I repaire
There, as thefe bayes do grow,
Where oft I walk to take the air,
It doth delight me fo.
But lo I ſtand, as I were dumme,
Her beauty for to blafe,
Wherewith my fprites be overcome,
So long thereon I gaſe.
At laft I turne unto my walke,
In paffing to and fro,
And to my falfe I fmile and talk,
And then away I go,
Why ſmileft thou? fay lookers on,
What pleaſure haft thou found?
With that I am as cold as ftone,
And ready for to founde,
Fie, fie for fhame, fayth fanfie than,
Pluck up thy fainted hart,
And ſpeak thou boldly like a man.
Shrink not for little fmart,
Whereat I blush and change my cheare
My fenfes wax fo weak,
O God, think I, what make I here,
That never a word may fpeake:
I dare not figh, left I be heard,
My lokes I flyly caft,
And ftill I ftand, as out were ſcard,
Untill my ftormes be paſt.
Then happy hap doth me revive,
'The blood comes to my face;
A merrier man is not alive,
Then I am in that caſe
Thus after forow feke I reft;
When fled is fancies fitt:
And though I be a homely geſt,
Before the bays I fit ;
Where I do watch till leaves do fall:
When winde the tree doth thake,
Then, though my branche be very ſmall,
My leafe away I take,
And then I go and clap my handes,
My heart doth leap for joy.
Thefe bayes do eafe me from my bands,
That long did me annoy;
For when I do behold the fame,
Which makes fo fair a fhow,
I find therein my maiſtreſs name,
And fee her virtues grow.
A praife of Maiftreſſe R.
I HEARD when fame with thundring voice did
fummon to appear
The chief of nature's children all, that kind hath
placed here.
To view what brute by virtue got their lives could
justly crave;
And bad them fhew what praiſe by truth they
worthy were to have:
Wherewith I faw how Venus came and put her felf
in place,
And gave her ladies leave at large to ſtand and
plead their cafe :
SONGES AND SONETTES.
643
Fach one was called by name a row, in that affem-
bly there.
That hence are gone or here remains, in court or
other where :
A folemn filence was proclaim'd, the judges fat
and heard
What truth could tell, or craft could fain, and who
fhould be prefer'd:
Then beauty flept before the bar, whoſe breſt and
neck was bare,
With hair truft up, and on her head a caul of gold
fhe ware.
Thus Cupids thralles began the flock, whofe hun-
gry eyes did fay,
That the bad ftained all the dames, that prefent
were that day.
For ere he spake with whispering words, the
praife was fild throughout,
And fancy forced common voice, thereat to give a
fhout.
Which cried to fame take forth thy trump, and
found her praiſe on hy,
That glads the heart of every wight, that her be-
holds with eye.
What ſtir and rule (quod order than) do thefe
rude people make?
We hold her beft that fhall deferve a praiſe for
virtues fake.
This fentence was no fooner faid, but beauty
therewith bluſht,
The noife did ceafe, the hal was fill and every
thing was hufht.
Then fineness thought by training talk to win
that beauty loft,
And whet her tongue with jolly words, and ſpar-
red for no coft;
Yet wantoneffe could not abide, but broke her
tale in haft,
And peevish pride for peacocks plumes would
needs be hieft plaft.
And therewithal came curioufneffe and carped out
of frame,
The audience laught to hear the ftrife, as they
beheld the fame.
Yet reafon foon appeas'd the brute, her reverence
made and done,
She purchaſed favour for to fpeak, and thus her
tale begun.
Since bounty ſhall the garland wear, and crowned
be by fame,
O happy judges call for her, for fhe deferves the
fame.
Where temperance governs beauties flowers, and
glory is not fought,
And fhamefaced meekneffe maftreth pride, and
virtue dwells in thought:
Bid her come forth, and fhew her face, or elſe af-
fent each one,
That true report fhall grave her name in gold or
marble-ftone.
For all the world to read at will what worthy-
neffe doth reſt,
In perfect pure unfpotted life, which he hath
here poffeft.
Then ſkill roſe up and fought the praife, to find
that if he might,
A perfon of fuch honeft name, that men fhould
praiſe of right
This one I faw full fadly fit, and ſhrink her felfe
a fide,
Whofe fober looks did fhew gifts her wively grace
did hide.
Lo here (quoth fkill, good people all) is lucres
left alive,
And ſhe ſhall moft accepted be, that leaſt for
praife did ftrive.
No longer fame could hold her peace, but blew
a blaſte ſo highe,
That made an echo in the air, and founding
through the fkie;
The voice was loud, and thus it faid, come R.
with happy days,
Thy honeft life hath won the fame, and crowned
thee with praife.
And when I heard my maistres named, I thruſt
amids the throng,
And clapt my hands and wifht of God, that ſhe
might profper long.
Songes written by N. G. of the Nine Muses.
IMPs of kyng Jove, and queen remembraunce lo
The fifters nine, the poets pleaſant feres.
Caliope doth ſtately ftyle beftowe,
And worthy praifes payntes of princely peres:
Clion in foleinn fonges reneweth all day,
With preſent yeres conjoyning age by pait,
Delightful take loves comical Thaley,
In froth grene youth, who doth lyke lawrel laft:
With voices tragicall, foundes Melpomen
And as with cheynes thallured care the byndes.
Her ftringes, when Terpefcor doth touch, even
then
She toucheth hartes, and raigneth in mens myndes :
Fyne Erato, whofe looke a lyvely chere
Prefents in dancing, kepes a comely grace,
With femely gefture doth Polomyne ftere,
Whoſe woordes whole routes of rankes do rule in
place.
Urany her globes to view all bent,
The ninefold heaven obſerves with fixed face;
The blaites Eutrepe tunes of inftrument,
With folace fweet, hence my heavy dumpes to
chafe.
Lord Phæbus, in the myddes, (whoſe heavenly
fprite
Thefe ladyes doth inſpire) embraceth all
The graces in the mufes weed delyte,
To lead them fourth, that men in maze they fall.
Mufonius the philofopbers faying.
IN woorking well, if travel you ſuſtaine,
Into the winde fhall lightly paffe the payne;
s fij
644
UNCERTAINE AUCTORS.
But of the dede the glory fhall remayne,
And cauſe your name with worthy wights to
raigne.
In working wrong, if pleaſure you attaine,
The pleature foon fhall vade, and void as vaine.
But of the dede throughout the lyfe the fhame
Endures, defacing you with foul defame,
And ftill torments the minde both night and day;
Scant length of time the ſpot can wathe away.
Fice then ill fuading pleaſures, baites untrue,
And noble vertues fayre renowne purfue.
Defcription of virtue.
WHAT one art thou, thus in torn wedey clad?
Vertue in price, whom auncient fages had.
Why poorely rayde? for fading goodes peaft care.
Why double faced? I marke eche fortunes fare.
This bridle what? Myndes rages to restraine.
Fooles why beare you? I love to take great
payne.
Why winges? I teach above the ſtarres to flye.
Why treade you death? I onely cannot dye.
49
Praife of measure-keeping.
THE ancient time commended not for nought;
The meane what better thinge there be fought.
In meane is virtue placed on eyther fide,
Both right and left amiffe a man fhall flyde.
Icar, with fire hadst thou the midway flowne,
Icarian beck by name had no man kowne.
If myddle path kept had proud Phaton
No burning brand this earth had faine upon :
Ne cruel power, ne none fo foft can raigne,
That kepes a meane, the fame fhall fill remayne.
The Julie once dyed, to much mercy ſpill;
The Nero ftern, rigor extreme dyd kill.
How could Auguft fo many yeres well paffe,
Nor over meke nor over fierce he was:
Worship net Jove with curious fancies vaine,
Nor him defpife; hold right atwene theſe twaine :
No waftfull wight, no gredy gutt is prazed,
Stand largeffe juſt in egall ballance payde:
So Catoes meal furmountes Antonius chere,
And better fame his fober fare hath here
To flender building bad as bad to groffe?
One an eye fore, the tother falles to loffe.
As medicines helpe in meaſure, fo (God wot)
By overmuch the ficke their bane have got.
Unmete me femes to utter this mo wales;
Meaſure forbiddes unmeaſurable praife.
Man's life, after Pofidonius or Crates.
WHAT pathe lift you to treade? what trade will
you affay?
In houſe for wife and childe there is but carke
and care,
With travel and with toyle enough in fields we
ufe to fare.
Upon the feas lyeth dread; the riche in foreign
lande,
Do feare the loffe, and there the poore like my-
fers poorely land.
Stryfe with a wife, without your thriftfull harde
to fee:
Yong brats a troble, none at all a mayme it femes
to be.
Youth fonde, age hath no hart, and pincheth all
to bye;
Chooſe then the leifer of theſe two, ay life, or
foon to dye.
Metrodorius's mynde to the contrary.
WHAT race of lyfe ronne you? what trade will
you allay?
In
courts is glory got, and witt increaſed day
by day.
At home wee take our cafe, and beake our felves
in reft:
The fieldes our nature do refrefhe with pleaſures
of the best.
On feas is gain to geat; the ftranger he shall be
Efteem'd, having much, if not, none knoweth his
lack but he.
A wyfe will trimme thy houfe, no wyle then art
thou free;
Brood is a lovely thing, without thy lyfe is loofe
to thee.
Yong bloodes be ſtronge, olde fyres in double ho-
nour dwell,
Doway that choyle, no lyfe or ſoon to dye, for all
is well.
Of friendship.
Or all the heavenly gifts that mortal men com-
mend,
What trusty treafure in the world can counter-
vaile a friendc.
Our health is foon decaied; goodes cafual, light,
and vaine;
Broke have we feen the force of power and ho-
nour fuffer ftaine.
In bodies luft man doth refemble but bafe brute,
True vertue geates and keeps a frende: good
guyde of our purfute,
[cafe:
Whofe hearty zeale with ours accordes in every
No terme of time, no ſpace of place, no ftorme can
it deface.
When fickle fortune failes, this knot endureth ftill.
The kin out of their kind may fwerve, when
frendes owe thee good will:
When fweter folace fhall befall, then one to finde,
The courts of plea by braule and bate drive gecie Upon whofe breft thou mayft repofe the fecrets of
peace away.
thy minde?
SONGES AND SONETTES.
645
He waileth at thy wo; his tears with thine be fhed;
With thee doth he joys, fo lefe a lyfe is led.
Behold thy frende, and of thy felf the paterne fee,
One foul a wonder fhall it ſeeme in bodies twaine
to be;
In abfence prefent rych in want, in fickneffe found,
Ye after death alive, maift thou by thy fure frende
be founde.
Eche houfe, eche towne, each realme by ftedfaſt
love doth ftande ;
Where foule debate bredes bitter bale in eche di-
vided lande,
O friendship, flower of flowers! O lively fprite
of lyfe!
O facred bond of blifsful peace, the ftalworth
ftanche of trife:
Scipio with Lelius didſt thou conjoyne in care;
At home in warres for weale and wo, with equal
faith to fare.
Gifippus cke with Tyte, Damon with Pythias;
And with Mencthus' fonne Achil by the combyn-
ed was:
Furialus and Nifus gave Virgil caufe to fing
Of Pylades do many rymes and of Oreftes ring :
Downe Thefeus went to hell, Pirith his freude to
finde;
O that the wyves in theſe our daies wer to their
mates fo kynd!
Cicero the frendly man, to Atticus, his frende,
Of friendship wrote, fuch couples, io! doth lot, but
feldom lend,
Recount thy race now ronne, how few fhalt thou
there fee,
[mee:
Of whom to fay this fame is he that never filed
So rare a jewell then muft nedes be holden dere,
And as thou wilt efteem thy felfe, fo take thy
chofen fere:
The tyrant in diſpaire no lacke of gold bewayles,
But out, I am undone (faith he) for all my friend-
fhips failes :
Wherefore fince nothing is more kyndly for our
kynde,
Next wildome thus that teacheth us, love wee the
trendly minde.
The death of Zurers, an Egyptian ofrazomer, in the
firfi fight that Alexander bad with the Perfians
Now clattring armes, now raging broyles of warre,
Gan paffe the noys of dredfull trumpetts clang,
Shrowded with fhafts, the heaven with clouds of
dartes,
Covered the ayre againſt full fatted bulles.
As forceth kyndled yre the lyons keene,
Whofe greedy gutts the gnawing hunger prickes:
So Macedons against the Perfians fair,
Now corpfes hyde the purpurde foyle with blood;
Large flaughter on cche fide, but Perfes more,
Moyft fieldes he bled, theyr heartes and numbers
bate,
Tainted while they gave backe, and fall to flighte :
The litening Macedon by fwordes, by gleaves,
By bandes and troupes of footemen, with his garde,
|
|
Speedes to dary, but hym his mereft kyn,
Oxate preferves with horſemen on a plumpe
Before his carr, that none his charge fhould give :
Here
eche where ftrong youth
grunts, groans,
here
is ſpent :
Shaking her bloudy hands, Bellone among
The Perfes foweth all kind of cruel death:
With throte ycut he roares, he lyeth along,
His entrailes with a launce through gyrded quyte,
Hym fmytes the club, hym woundes farre itryk-
ing bowe,
And him the fling, and him the fhining fword;
He dyeth, he is all dead, he pantes, he reftes.
Right over ftoode in fnow white armor brave,
The Memphite Zoreas, a cunnyng clarke,
To whom the heaven lay open as his booke;
And in celeftiall bodies he could tell
The moving mecting light afpect eclips,
And influence, and conſtellations all;
What earthly chaunces would betyde, what yere
Ofplenty forde, what figne forewarned death,
How winter gendreth fnow, what temperature
In the primetyde doth feafon well the foyle,
Why fummer burnes, why autumne hath ripe
grapes,
Whither the circle quadrate may become,
Whether our tones heaven's harmony can yelde,
Of four begyns among themſelves howe great
Proportion is; what fway the erryng lightes
Doth fend in courſe gayne that fyrit movyng hea-
ven;
What grees one from another diftant be,
What ftarr doth let the hurtful! fyre to rage,
Or him more myide what oppofition makes,
What fyre doth qualifye Mavorfe's fyre,
What houfe eche one doth feeke, what planett
raignes
Within this heaven ſphere, or that ſmall thynges,
I fpeake, whole heaven he clofeth in his breft.
This fage then in the ſtarres hath (pyed the fates
Threatned him death without delay, and fith
He faw he could not fatall order chaunge,
Foreward he preſt in battayle, that he might
Mete with the rulers of the Macedons,
Of his right hand defirous to be ſlain,
The bouldeft bourne, and worthieft in the feilde;
And as a wight, now wery of his lyfe,
And fuking death in fyrt front of his rage,
Comes defperately to Alexander's face,
At him with dartes one after other throwes,
With reckleſſe words and clamour him provokes,
And fayth, Nectanak's baftard fhamefull ftayne
Of mothers bed, why loſeſt thou thy ftrokes,
Cowardes among, turne thee to me, in cafe
Manhood there be fo much left in thy heart:
Come fight with me, that on my helmet weare
Apollo's laurell both for learninges laude,
And eke for martiall praife, that in my fhielde
The feven-fold fophie of Minerve contein,
A match more mete fyr king then any here.
The noble prince amoved takes ruth upon
The wilfull wight, and with foft words ayen,
O monstrous man (quoth he) what fo thou art,
I pray thec live, ne do not with thy death
This lodge of lore, the muſe's manſion marre ;
!!
Sf iij
€45
AUCTORS.
UNCERTAINE
That treaſure heufe this hand fhall never spoyle,
My fword all never bruife that ſkilfull brayne,
Long gather'd heapes of ſcience fome to fpul;
O how fayre fruites may you to mortall men
From wildom's garden give; how many may
By you the wifer and the better prove:
What error, what mad mode, what frenzy thee,
Perfwades to be downe, fent to kepe Averut,
Where no artes flourish, nor no knowledge vailes
For all thefe fawes. When thus the fovereign
faid,
Alighted Zoroas with ſword ur.fheathed,
The careless king there fmoate above the greve,
At th' opening of his quifaes wounded him,
So that the blond down trailed on the ground:
The Macedon perceiving hurt, gan gnaſhe,
But yet his mynde he bent in any wife,
Hym to forbeare, fett fpurrs unto his ſtede,
And turnde away, left anger of his fmarte
Should cauſe revenger hand deale balefuil blowes.
But of the Macedonians chieftaines knights,
One Meleager could not bear this fight,
But ran upon the faid Egyptian reuk,
And cutt him in both knees: He fell to ground,
Wherewith a whole rout came of fouldicurs
fterne.
And all in pieces howed the fely feg,
But happely the foule fled to the farres,
Where, under him, he hath full fight of all,
Whereat he gazed here with reaching looke ;
The Perfians waild fuch fapience to forgoe,
The very fone the Macedonians wifht
He would have lived, King Alexander ſelſe
Demde him a man unmete to dye at all;
Who wonne like praiſe for conqueſt of his yre,
As for ftoute men in fielde that day ſubdued,
Who princes taught how to diſcerne a man,
That in his head fo rare a jewel beares,
But over all thofe fame Camenes, thofe fame,
Divine Camenes, whofe honour be procurde,
As tender parent doth hys daughters weale,
Lamented, and for thankes all that they can,
Do cherish hym deccaft, and fett him free,
From dark oblivion of devouring death.
Marcus Tullius Cicero's death,
THEREFORE when reftlefs rage of wynde and
wave,
He faw by fates, alas, calde for, (quoth he)
Is hapless Cicero, fayle on, fhape courſe
'To the next ſhore, and bring me to my death.
Perdy theſe thankes reſcued from evill ſword,
Wilt thou my country pay? I fee myne end:
So powers divine fo bid the gods above,
In citie faved that conſul Marcus fhend,
Speaking no more, but drawing from diep hart
Great grones, even at the name of Rome rehearſt,
His eyes and cheekes with fhowers of tears he waſht;
And (though a route in daily dangers worne)
With forced face the fhipmen held their teares,
And firivyng long, the feas rough flood to paſſe,
In angry windes and ftormy fhowers made way.
And at the laft fafe arcred in the rods,
Came heavy Cicero a land, with payne,
His faynted lymmes the aged fyre doth drawe,
And round about their mafter food his band:
Nor greatly with their own hard hap dilmeyde,
Nor plighted faith prove in fharpe tyme to breake,
Some wordes, prepare fome theyr dere Lord al-
ff:
In littour laid, they lead him unkouth wayes.
If fo deceave Antonius cruell gleaves,
They might, and threats of following routs efcaps:
Thus lo, that Tullie, went that Tullius,
Of royal robe and facred fenate prince,
When he a farre the men approache efpreth;
And of his fone the enlign doch acknow,
And with drawn fword, Popiiius threat'ning
death,
Whofe life and whole eftate, in hazard once
He had preferved, when Rome, as pett to free,
Heard him, and at his thundring voice amazed :
Herennius eke more tyger than the rest,
Prefent enflam'd with fury, him purfues.
What might he do, ſhould he ufe in defence
Dyfarmed handes, or pardon aſk for Mede?
Should he with wordes to turne the wrath
Of th'armed knight, whofe fafeguard he had
wrought:
No age forbids, and fixt within diepe breft
His countrys love, and falling Romes ymage;
The charret turn, fayth he, let lofe the raines,
Runne to the undeſerved death mee, lo,
Hath Phoebus foule, as meffenger forewarnde,
And Jove defires a new heavens man to make.
Brutus and Caffius fouls, live you in blifs?
In cafe, yet all the fates gain ftrive us not,
Neither shall wee, perchaunce, dye unrevenged,
Now have I lived, O Rome! ynough for me;
My paſſed life nought fuffreth me to doubt :
Noylome oblivion of the loathſome death.
Slea me : Yett all the offspring to come ſhall
know,
And this deceafe fhall bring eternal life;
Yea, and (unleffe I fall, and all in vaine :
Rome, I fometime thy augur chofen was)
Not evermore ſhall friendly fortune thee
Favour, Antonius, once the day fhall come,
When her dear wights, by cruell ipight thus
flaine,
Victorious Rome fhall at thy hands require:
Me likes ther while, go fce the hoaped heaven.
Speche had he left, and therewith, he, good man,
His throat prepard, and held his head unmov'd.
His hafting to thofe fates the very knightes
Be loth to fee, and rage rebated, when
They his bare necke beheld, and his hoare heares;
Scant could they hold the teares that fourth gan
burst,
And almoſt fell from bloudy hands the fwordcs;
Only the fterne Herennius, with grim looke,
Daftards, why ſtand you ftill? he fayeth, and
ſtraight
Swaps of the head with his prefumptious yron.
Ne with that flaughter yet he is not filde :
Foul fhame on fhame to heape, is his delight,
Wherefore the handes alfo doth he of fmyte,
SONGES AND SONETTE S.
647
Which darf Antonius life fo lyfely paint.
Him yelding, ftrained ghoſt, from welkin hye,
With lothy chere lord Phoebus gan behold,
And in black cloud, they fay, long hid his head.
The Latine muſes and the graces they wept,
And for his fall eternally fhall pepe :
And lo, here piercing Pitho, (ftrange to tell)
Who had to him fuffifde both ſenſe and wordes.
When ſo he ſpake, and dreſt with nectar foode
That flowing tong, when his wind pipe dif-
clofd,
Fled with her fleeing frend, and (out alas)
Hath left ther earth, ne will no more returne;
Popilious flieth ther while, and leaving there
The fenfeleſs ſtock, a griezely ſight doth bear,
Unto Antonius boord with miſchief fed,
Of M. T. Cicero.
F
FOR Tullie late a tombe I gan prepare,
When Cynthie, thus, bad me my labour ſpare:
Such manner thinges become the dead, quoth
he,
But Tully lives, and ſtill alyve ſhall be.
Sf iiij
N. G.
}
THE
POETICAL WORKS
O F
THOMAS SACKVILLE,
LORD BUCKHURST.
Containing his
INDUCTION TO THE MIRROR FOR
MAGISTRATES.
COMPLAINT OF HENRY DUKE OF
BUCKINGHAM.
To which is prefixed'
THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.
In vain I think, right honourable lord,
By this rude rime to memorize thy name,
Whofe learned mufe hath writ her owne record
In golden verfe, worthy immortal fame.
Thou much more fit, were leiſure for the fame,
Thy gracious foveraigne's prayers to compile,
And her imperiall majeſtie to frame
In loftie numbers, and heroick ſtile.
1
SPENSER'S SONNET TO LORD BUCKHURST.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY MUNDELL AND SON, ROYAL BANK CLOSE
Anno 1793.
THE LIFE OF SACKVILLE.
In the turbulent and fanguinary reign of Queen Mary, when the fires of perfecution were kindleḍ
in Smithfield, and every part of England was polluted with murders, more atrocious than
the flaughters of the moſt bloody civil war; the cultivation of polite literature was neglected
amidst the calamities of the ftate, and only one poetical production, of prominent excellence, intitu-
led, A Mirror for Magijlrates, illuminates that interval of darkneſs between Surrey and Spenſer.
More writers than one were concerned in the compofition of that popular poem, which originat-
ed in the reign of Mary, and was not finally completed till the beginning of the feventeenth cen-
tury; but its inventor, and moſt diftinguished contributor was THOMAS SACKVILLE, the firſt Lord
Buckhurst, and Earl of Dorfet, Lord High Treaſurer of England, Chancellor of the Univerſity of
Oxford, author of the first genuine English tragedy, and "the Patriarch of a race of genius and wit."
This diſtinguiſhed ftatefman and poet, was the fon of Richard Sackville, Efq. of Buckhurſt,
in the parish of Withiam, in Suffex, where he was born in the year 1527. His mother was a
daughter of Sir John Bruges, Lord Mayor of London, and afterwards wife of John Powlet, Mar-
quis of Wincheſter.
He difcovered, from his childhood, a lively wit and vigorous underſtanding, and was removed
from a domeftic tuition, to Hart-hall in Oxford, where he refided fome time; but took no degree.
He afterwards re moved to Cambridge, where he did not refide long; but had the degree of Maſter
of Arts conferred on him.
At both univerfities he became celebrated as a Latin and English poet. Wood mentions him as
having been in his younger years poetically inclined; and wrote, while he continued in Oxon, feve-
ral Latin and Engliſh poems: though publiſhed, either by themſelves, or mixed among other men's
poenis, yet I prefume they are loft or forgotten, as having no name to them, or that the copies
are worn out."
He afterwards entered himself a ftudent in the Inner Temple, and at an early period of life was
called to the bar,
He carried his love of poetry, which he feems to have almoft folely cultivated, to the Inner Tem-
ple, where, in conjunction with Thomas Norton, a fellow-labourer of Hopkins and Sternhold, he
wrote a tragedy, intituled, Ferres and Porres, which was acted before Queen Elizabeth, at Whitehall,
by the ſtudents of the Inner Temple, in 1561. It was printed incorrectly and furreptitiouſly in 1565';
more accurately in 1570; in 1590, by the title of Gorboduc; and reprinted by Dodfley in 1736, with
a preface by Mr. Spence, by the procuration of Pope, "who wondered that the propriety
and natural eaſe of it had not been better imitated by the dramatic authors of the fucceeding
age."
About the year 1557, he formed the plan of the Mirror for Magifirates, in which all the illuf-
trious but unfortunate characters of the Engliſh hiſtory, from the Conqueft to the end of the four-
teenth century, were to paſs in review before the poet, who defcends, like Dante, into hell, and is
conducted by Sorrow. Every perfonage was to recite his own misfortunes in a foliloquy. But he had
leiſure only to finiſh a poetical preface, called an Induction, and one legend, which is the Life of Hen
ry Stafford Duke of Buckinghart,
6
652
THE LIFE OF SACKVILLE.
Relinquiſhing, therefore, the deſign abruptly, and haſtily adapting the cloſe of his Induction to the
appearance of Buckingham, whofe ftory was to have been the laſt in his ferics, he recommended the
completion of the whole to Richard Baldwyne and George Ferrers, men of the greateſt wit in that
age.
Deterred, perhaps, by the greatneſs of the attempt, they invited to their affiftance Churchyard,
Phayer, and other men of wit and genius, who chofe fuch lives from the chronicles of Fabian and
Hall, as feemed to difplay the moſt affecting cataſtrophes, and which were probably pointed out by
Sackville.
This collection was printed in 4to, 1559, with the following title, A Myrroure for Magiftrates, where-
in may be ſeen, by example of others, with bowe greuous plages vices are punished, and how frail and unstable
worldly profperitie is founde, even of those whom fortune feemeth moft bighly to favour. "Falix quem faciunt
aliena pericula cautum.” Anno 1559, Edibus Thome Marfbe.
As he early quitted the ſtudy of the law for the flowery paths of poetry; fo the poet was foon
loft in the ſtateſman; and negociations and embaffies extinguiſhed the milder ambitions of the inge-
nious mufe.
In the fourth and fifth years of Queen Mary, his name appears in the parliamentary lifts; and in
the fifth of Queen Elizabeth, 1564, when his father was elected knight of the fhire for Suffex, he
was returned one of the members for Buckinghamshire.
Not long after this, he travelled into France and Italy, and was detained fome time a prifoner at
Rome, in confequence of fome pecuniary inconvenience.
On his father's death in 1566, his liberty was procured, and he returned to England, to take pof-
feffion of an ample patrimony.
His eminent accompliſhments and abilities having acquired the confidence and eſteem of Queen
Elizabeth, he was knighted in 1567, in her prefence, by the Duke of Norfolk, and at the fame time
promoted to the peerage, by the title of Baron Buckhurſt.
In confequence of the Queen's frequent admonitions, he is faid to have corre&ed his tafte for
magnificence and expence, which had fome times fubjected him to confiderable inconveniencies.
In 1573, he went ambaffador to France. In 1574, he fat on the trial of the Duke of Norfolk;
at which time he was alfo in the Privy Council.
He was nominated one of the commiffioners for the trial of Mary Queen of Scots; but it does
not appear that he was prefent at her condemnation at Fotheringay Caftle; yet after the confirma-
tion of the ſentence, he was appointed to bear the unhappy tidings to her, and to fee the fentence put
in execution.
In 1587, he went ambaffador to the States-General; but, having incurred the diſpleaſure of the
Earl of Leiceſter and Lord Burleigh, he was recalled, and confined to his houfe nine months.
On the death of Leiceſter, he recovered the Queen's favour, and was made Knight of the Garter,
one of the peers who fat on the trial of Lord Arundel, and joined with Burleigh, in negociating a
peace with Spain and Holland.
In 1591, he was, by the Queen's recommendation, elected Chancellor of the Univerſity of Oxford,
in oppoſition to Effex, the object of her capricious paffion, and incorporated Maſter of Arts.
On Burleigh's death, he was appointed Lord High Treaſurer, and foon after joined in commiffion
with Effex and Sir Thomas Egerton for negociating an alliance with Denmark; and when that un-
fortunate nobleman was brought to his trial, with his friend Southampton, he was conſtituted Lord
High Steward on the occafion.
At the acceffion of King James, his patent of Lord High Treaſurer was renewed for life; and in
1603, he was created Earl of Dorſet, and appointed one of the commiflioners for executing the office
of Lord Marſhal.
He died fuddenly at the council-table, Whitehall, April 19th 1608, in the 31ft year of his age,
and was buried in Weftminster Abbey.
His funeral fermon was preached by Dr. Abbot, his chaplain, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury,
in which he is very lavih in his praiſe.
The character of Sackville, as a ftatefman, is to be fought elfewhere. It is fufficient to fay, that
few firſt miniſters have left fo fair a character. Amidft the intrigues of an artful court, he preferv.
THE
653
LIFE OF SACKVILLE.
Be!!!”
ed the integrity of a private man. His family difdained the offer of an apology for him, against
fome little cavils of a rival party. In the exercife of his political functions, the brilliancy of his
imagination grew more correct, not lefs abundant. Naunton relates, that his "fecretaries had
difficulty to pleaſe him, he was fo facete and choice in his ftyle." Even in the deciſions of that rigid tri-
bunal, the Star Chamber, which was never cfteemed the ſchool of eloquence,
"fo ftrong," fays
Lloyd, was his invention, that he was called the Star Chamber Be!!." Amidft the bufinefs of an
envoy at Paris, he found time to prefix a Latin Epifle to Clerke's Latin tranflation of Caftiglio's
"Courtier," which is not an unworthy recommendation of a treatiſe remarkable for its polite Latini-
ty. Himself a poet, he encouraged the art which he improved, by his liberality; and left his wit
and patronage of polite literature to his defcendants, of whom was Charles Sackville, Earl of Dor-
fet, the well known patron of Dryden and Prior;
*
Whoſe great forefathers every grace,
Reflecting and reflected in his race;
Where other Euckhurſts, other Dorſets ſhine,
And poets ſtill, or patriots deck the line.
He was more courted and complimented by poets than any nobleman of his time, except Effex,
whoſe love of literature, heroiſm, integrity, and generoſity, made him the favourite of the nation,
and the fubject of innumerable fonnets and ballads, from Spenſer to the lowest rhymer: And if
panegyric were any where juſtifiable, it muſt be when paid to the man, who endeavoured to fave
Spenfer from ftarving in the ſtreets of Dublin, and who buried him in Weſtminſter Abbey, with
becoming folemnity.
As a poet, Sackville has pretenfions to the gratitude of poſterity, which have not hitherto been
fully confidered or allowed. He is entitled to rank with Spenfer, Shakspeare, and Marlowe, the
moſt eminent poets of his age; by the firft of whom he is only furpaffed in the perfection of
allegory, by having had the diſadvantage of writing before him; and, by the ſecond, in his ma-
gic power of moving the paſſions, and the unrivalled excellence of his dramatic dialogue.
His tragedy of Gorboduc has the merit of being the firft fpecimen in our language of a heroic tale
written in blank verfe, divided into acts and fcenes, and clothed in all the formalities of a regular
drama. It is praiſed by Sidney for its notable moralitie; but it was never popular, owing to the un-
interefting nature of the plot, the tedious length of the ſpeeches, the want of a difcrimination of cha-
racter, and almoſt a total abfence of pathetic incidents. The dialogue, however, contains much
dignity, ftrength of reflection, and good fenfe; and the language has great purity and perfpicuity,
and is entirely free from that tumid phrafeology, and thoſe exaggerated imageries and pedantic me-
taphors, which are the chief blemiſhes of the fcenes of Shakspeare.
The affiftance of Norton, to whom the three first acts are given by Wood, may be juſtly doubted.
Every ſcene of Gorboduc is marked by Sackville's characteriſtic manner, which confifts in a perfpicuity
of ſtyle, and a command of numbers, fuperior to the tone of his age.
In the Mirror for Magiftrates he has two poems of confiderable length, the Induction, and Legend of
Buckingham, which are the chief foundation of his fame.
The collection, of which they make a confpicuous part, was reprinted in 1563, 1571, 1574, and
in 1587, with an Induction, and the additions of many new lives, by John Higgins. At length
the whole was digefted anew, with additions by Richard Niccols, an ingenious poet, and printed in
1610, under the following title: A Mirrour for Magißrates, being a true chronicle biftorie of the uN-
timely falles of ſuch unfortunate princes, and men of note, as bave happened fince the first entrance of Brute int»
this ifland, until this our age, newly enlarged, with a laß part, called, A Winter's Night Vision, being an ad-
dition of fuch tragedies, eſpecially famous, as are exempted in the former hiftorie, with a poem annexed, called,
England's Eliza. At London, imprinted by Felix Kyngſton, 1610.
Sackville's ſhare in it is illuftrated in the preface." I purpofe only to follow the intended ſcope
of that most honorable patronage, who, by how much he did furpaffe the reft in the eminence of
his noble condition, by fo much, he hath exceeded them all in the excellence of his heroical ſtile,
"
654
THE LIFE OF SACKVILLE.
which, with golden pen, he hath limmed out to pofteritie in that worthy object of his minde, THE
TRAGEDIE OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and in his preface, then intituled MASTER SACKUIL'S
INDUCTION." This edition, which contains 86 lives and 875 pages, has never been reprinted, and is
extremely fcarce. That it was in high eſteem throughout the reign of Queen Elizabeth, appears not
only from its numerous editions, but from the teftimonies of Sidney, Heywod, Webbe, Bolton, and other
contemporary writers. It is reaſonable to ſuppoſe, that it enriched the ftores, and extended the limits
of our drama. Shakspeare is indebted to it for many fcenes in his plays. Much of it might bear
republication, and make good its claim to public notice; particularly the legends written by Church-
yard and Niccols, which have confiderable merit, and often ſhew a command of language and verfi-
fication. But the Induction and Legend of Sackville, afford the moft favourable fpecimen of thoſe po-
pular legends, and deferve being revived equally as compofitions of real and intrinfic merit, and as
objects of curiofity. They are now received, for the first time, into a collection of claffical English
poetry.
The Earl of Orford and Mr. Warton have characterifed the poetry of Sackville with fuch elegance
and minuteneſs, that it will be fufficient to add their teftimonies as a juftification of the revival of
his writings, and as unqueſtionable authorities in his favour.
"Our hiſtoric plays," fays Lord Orford, are allowed to have been founded on the heroic narra-
tives in the Mirror for Magiftrates; to that plan, and to the boldneſs of Lord Buckhurft's new
fcenes, perhaps we owe Shakspeare."
« Sackville's Induction, " fays Mr. Warton," loſes much of its dignity and propriety, by being
prefixed to a ſingle life, and that of no great hiſtorical importance; the plan is confeffedly copied
from Boccaces' De Cafibis virorum illuftrium, tranflated by Lydgate; the deſcent into hell, from Dante's
« Commedia,” and the ſixth book of Virgil. The fhadowy inhabitants of hell-gate are his own,
and conceived with the vigour of a creative imagination, and deſcribed with great force of expref-
fion; they are delineated with that fullneſs of proportion, that invention of pictureſque attributes, dif
tinctneſs, animation, and amplitude, of which Spenfer is commonly ſuppoſed to have given the firſt
fpecimens in our language, and which are characteriſtical of his poetry. The readers of the " Faery
Queene" will eafily point out many particular paffages, which Sackville's Induction ſuggeſted to
Spenfer."
"The Complaynt of Henrye Duke of Buckingham, is written with a force and even ele-
gance of expreſſion, a copiouſneſs of phraſeology, and an exactneſs of verſification, not to be found
in any other parts of the collection. On the whole, it may be thought tedious and languid; but
that objection unavoidably reſults from the general plan of theſe pieces. It is impoffible that ſoli-
loquies of fuch prolixity, and defigned to include much historical, and even biographical matter,
ſhould every where ſuſtain a proper degree of ſpirit, pathos, and intereſt.'
13
THE INDUCTION
TO A
MIRROUR FOR MAGISTRATES.
THE wrathfull winter prochinge on a pace,
With bluftring blaſtes had al ybared the treen,
And olde Saturnus with his froſty face
With chilling colde had pearft the tender green:
The mantels rent, wherein enwrapped been
The gladfom groves that nowe laye overthrowen,
The tapets torne, and every blome downe blowen.
queen
The foyle that erſt ſo ſeemly was to ſeen,
Was all defpoyled of her beauties hewe:
And foot freſhe flowers (where with the fommers
[blewe
Had clad the earth) now Boreas blaftes downe
And fmall fowles flocking, in their fong did rewe
The winters wrath, wher with eche thing defaſte
In woful wife bewayled the fommer paſt.
Hawthorne had loft his motley lyverye,
The naked twigges were ſhivering all for colde :
And dropping downe the teares abundantly,
Eche thing (me thought) with weping eye me
tolde
The cruell ſeaſon, bidding me withholde
My felfe within, for I was gotten out
Into the feldes whereas I walkte about.
When loe the night with miſtie mantels fpred,
Can darke the daye, and dim the azure fkyes,
And Venus in her meſſage Hermes fped
To bluddy Mars, to wyl him not to ryſe,
While fhe her felfe approcht in fpeedy wife:
And Virgo hiding her diſdainful breft
With Thetis now had layd her downe to reft.
Whiles Scorpio dreading Sagittarius dart,
And Phaeton nowe neare reaching to his race
With gliftering beames, gold ftreamynge where
they bent
Was preft to enter in his refting place.
Crythius that in the carte fyrſte went
Had even now attaynde his journeys tent
And faft declining hid away his head,
While Titan couched him in his purple bed.
And pale Cinthea with her borowed light
Beginning to fupply her brothers place,
Was paſt the noonfteede fyre degrees in fight,
When ſparkling ftarres amyd the heavens face
With twinkling light ſheen on the earth apace,
That whyle they brought about the nightes
chare
The darke had dimmed the day car I was ware.
And forowing I to fee the fommer flowers
The livly greene, the lufty leas forlorne,
The ſturdy trees fo fhattered with the fhowers,
The fields fo fade that floorifht fo beforne
It taught me wel all earthly thinges be borne
To dye the death, for nought long time may laſt;
The fommers beauty yeeldes to winters blaft.
Then looking upward to the heavens leames
With nightes ftarres thicke powdred every where,
Which erft fo gliftened with the golden ftreames
That chearefull Phebus fpred downe from his
ſphere,
Beholding darke oppreffing day ſo neare :
The fodayne fight reduced to my minde
The fundry chaunges that in earth we fynde.
Whoſe bowe preſt bent in fight, the ftring had That mufing on this worldly wealth in thought,
flypt,
Downe flyd into the ocean flud aparte,
The Beare that in the Iryfhe feas had dipt
Which comes and goes more fafter than we fee
The flyckering flame that with the fyer is wrought,
My buſie minde prefented unto me
His griefly feete, with ſpeede from thence he Such fall of pieres as in this realme had be:
whypt:
For Thetis hafting from the Virgines bed
Purſued the Bear, that ear fhe came was filed.
That ofte I wifht fome would their woes def-
cryve.
To warne the reſt whom fortune left alive
856
OF SACKVILLE.
THE WORKS
And firayt forth ftalking with redoubled, pace
For that I fawe the night drewe on fo faſt,
In blacke all clad there fell before my face
A piteous wight, whom woe had al forwaſte,
Furth from her iyen the criftall teares outbraft,
And fyghing fore her handes fhe wrong and
folde,
Tare al her heare, that ruth was to beholde.
Her body ſmall forwithered and forefpent,
As is the ſtalk that fommers drought oppreft;
Her wealked face with woful teares befprent,
Her colour pale, and (as it feemd her beft)
In woe and playnt repoſed was her reſt.
And as the ſtone that droppes of water weares;
So dented wer cher cheekes with fall of teares.
Her iyes fwollen with flowing ftreames aflote,
Wherewith her lookes throwen up full piteouflie,
Her forceles handes together ofte fhe fmote,
With doleful fhrikes, that echoed in the fkye:
Whoſe playnt fuch fighes dyd ftrayt accompany,
That in my doome was never man did fee
A wight but halfe fo woe begon as ſhe.
I ftoode agaft beholding all her plight,
Tweene dread and dolour fo diftreynd in hart,
That while my heares upftarted with the fight,
The teares out ftreamde for forowe of her ſmart :
But when I fawe no ende that could aparte
The deadly dewle, which fhe fo fore dyd make,
With dolefull voice then thus to her I fpake.
Unwrap thy woes what ever wight thou be,
And flint betime to fpill thy felfe wyth playnt;
Tell what thou art, and whence, for well I fee
Thou canst not dure with forowe thus attaynt.
And with that worde of forrowe all forfaynt
She looked up, and proftrate as the laye
With piteous found loe thus the gan to faye,
Alas! I wretche whom thus thou feeft diftreyned
With wafting woes that never fhall aflake,
Sorrowe I am, in endeles tormentes payned,
Among the furies in the infernall lake:
Where Pluto god of hel fo griefly blacke
Doth hold his throne, and Letheus deadiy tafte
Doth rieve remembraunce of cche thyng forepat.
Whence come I am, the drery deftinie
And luckeles lot for to bemone of thefe,
Whom fortune in this maze of miferie
Of wretched chaunce moſt wofull myrrours chofe
That when thou feeft how lightly they did lofe
Theyr pope, theyr power, and that they thought
most fure
Thou mayeft foone deeme no earthly joy may dure
Wh
ofe rufull voyce no fooner had out brayed
fe woful woordes, wherewith fhe forrowed fo,
Tho
out alas fhe fhryght and never flayed,
downe, and all to daſht her felfe for woe.
But
Fell cold pale dread my lymes gan overgo
The
1 fo forrowed at her forowes eft,
[reft.
And what with griefe and fare my wittes were
That
Iftrecht my felfe, and ſtrayt my heart revives,
That dread and dolour erft did ſo appale;
Lyke him that with the fervent fever ftryves
When ficknes feekes his caftell health to fkale:
With gathered ſpirites fo forſt I feare to availe:
And rearing her with anguiſhe all fordone,
My fpirits return'd, and then I thus begonne.
O Sorrowe, alas! fith forrowe is thy name,
And that to thee this drere doth well pertayne,
In vayne it were to feeke to ceas the fame :
But as a man hym felfe with forrowe flayne,
So I, alas! do comfort thee in payne,
That here in forrowe art forfonke ſo depe
That at thy fight I can but figh and wepe.
I had no fooner ſpoken of a ftike,
But that the ſtorm fo rumbled in her breft,
As Eolus could never roare the like,
And ſhowers downe rayned from her iyen fo faſt,
That all bedreynt the place, till at the laſt
Well cafed they the dolour of her minde,
As rage of rayne doth fwage the ftormy wynde.
For furth fhe placed in her fearfull.tale :
Cum, cum, (quod fhe) and fee what I fhall fhewe,
Cum heare the playning, and the bytter bale
Of worthy men, by fortune overthrowe.
Cum thou and fee them rewing all in rowe.
They were but ſhades that erft in minde thou rolde.
Cum, cum with me, thine eyes fhall them beholde.
What could theſe wordes but make me more agaſt:
To heare her tell whereon I mufde while eare:
So was I mazed therewyth, tyll at the laft,
Mufing upon her wurdes, and what they were,
All fodaynly well leffoned was my feare:
For to my minde returned howe the telde
Both what the was, and where her wun fhe helde.
Whereby I knewe that fhe a goddeſſe was,
And therewithall reforted to my minde
My thought that late prefented me the glas
Of brittle fate, of cares that here we finde,
Of thouſand woes to filly men affynde :
And howe flie nowe byd me come and beholde,
To fee with iye that erit in thought I rolde.
That downe I fell, and with al reverence
Adored her, perceyving nowe that the
A goddeffe fent by godly providence,
In earthly fhape thus fhowed herself to me,
To wayle and rue this worldes uncertayntye:
And while I honoured thus her godheds might,
With playning voyce thefe wurdes to me the
fhryght:
I fhall the guyde first to the griefly lake,
And thence unto the blifsful place of reft,
Where thou halt fee and heare the playnt they
make,
That whilom here bare fwinge among the beft.
This halt thou fe, but great is the unreft
That thou must byde before thou cault attayne
Wato the dreadfull place where thefe remayns.
INDUCTION TO A MIRROUR FOR MAGISTRATES.
657
And with theſe wurdes as I uprayſed itood,
And
gan to folowe her that firayght furth paced,
Eare I was ware, into a defert wood
We nowe were cum: where hand in hand im-
braced,
She led the way, and through the thicke fo traced
As but I had beene guided by her might,
It was no way for any mortall wight.
But loe, while thus amid the defert darke,
We paffed on with ſteppes and pace unmette:
A rumbling roar confufde with howle and bark
Of dogs, fhoke all the ground under our feete,
And ſtroke the din within our cares fo deepe
As halfe diftraught unto the ground I fell,
Befought retourne, and not to vifite hell.
But the forthwith uplifting me apace
Removed my dread, and with a ftedfaft minde
Bad me come on, for here was now the place,
The place where we our travayle ende ſhould finde.
Wherewith I aroſe, and to the place affynde
Aftoynde I ftalke, when ftrayt we approched nere
The dredfull place, that you wil dread to here.
An hydeous hole al vafte, withouten ſhape,
Of endleſs depth, orewhelmde with ragged ftone,
Wyth ougly mouth, and grifly jawes doth gape,
And to our fight confounds it felfe in one.
Here entred we, and yeding forth, anone
An horrible lothly lake we might difcerne
As blacke as pitche, that cleped is Averne.
A deadly gulfe where nought but rubbishe grows,
With fowle blacke fwelth in thickned lumpes
lyes,
Which up in the ayer fuch ftinking vapors throwes
That over there, may flye no fowle but dyes,
Choakt with the pellilent favours that aryſe.
Hither we cum, whence forth we ftill dyd pace,
In dreadful feare amid the dreadfull place.
And firft within the portche and jawes of hell
Sate diepe Remorie of Confcience, al befprent
With teares and to her ſelſe oft would he tell
Her wretchednes, and curfing never ftent
To fob and figh: but ever thus lament,
With thoughtful care, as fhe that all in vayne
Would weare and waſte continually in payne.
Her iyes unftedfaft rolling here and there,
Whurld on eche place, as place that vengeauns
brought,
So was her minde continually in feare,
Toffed and tormented with the tedious thought
Of thofe detefted crymes which she had wrought:
With dreadful cheare and lookes thrown to the
fkye,
Wythyng for death, and yet she could not dye.
Next fawe we Dread al tremblyng how he fhooke,
With foot uncertayne proferd here and there:
Benumde of fpeache, and with a gaftly looke
Searcht evry place al pale and dead for feare,
His
cap borne up with ſtarting of his heare,
Vol. I.
Stoynde and amazde at his owne fhade for deed,
And fearing greater daungers than was nede.
And next within the entry of this lake
Sate fell Revenge gnashing her teeth for yre,
Devifing means howe fhe may vengeaunce take,
Never to reft tyll fhe have her defire :
But frets within fo far forth with the fyer
Of wreaking flames, that now determines the,
To dye by death, or vengde by death to be.
When fell Revenge with bloudy foule pretence
Had fhowed her felfe as next in order fet,
With trembling limmes we foftly parted thence,
Tyll in our iyes another fight we met:
When fro my hart a figh forthwith I fet,
Rewing alas upon the wofull plight
Of Miſerie, that next appeared in fight.
His face was leane, and fumdeale pyned away,
And eke his handes confumed to the bone,
But what his body was I can not fay,
For on his carkas rayment had he none,
Save cloutes and patches pieced one by one.
With ſtaffe in hande, and fkrip on fhoulders caft,
His chiefe defence agaynſt the winters blaft.
His foode for moft, was wylde fruytes of the tree,
Unles fumtimes fum crummes fell to his ſhare :
Which in his wallet long, Ged wote, kept he,
As on the which full dayntlye would he fare.
His drinke the running ftreame: his cup the bare
Of his palme clofed: his bed the hard colde.
grounde.
To this poore life was Miferie ybound.
Whofe wretched ftate when we had well behelde
With tender ruth on him and on his feres,
In thoughtful cares, furth then our pace we helde;
And by and by, an other fhape apperes,
Of greedy Care, ftil brufbing up the breres,
His knuckles knob'd, his fleſhe depe dented in,
With tawed handes, and hard ytanned fkyn.
The morrowe graye no fooner had begunne
To fpreade his light even peping in our iyes,
When he is up and to his worke yrunne :
But let the nightes blacke miftye mantels rife,
And with fowle darke never fo much diſguyfe
The fayre bright day, yet ceaffeth he no whyle,
But hath his candels to prolong his toyle.
By him lay heavy Slepe the cofin of death
Flat on the ground, and ftill as any Itone,
A very corps, fave yelding forth a breath.
Small kepe took he whom Fortune frowned on,
Or whom the lifted up into the trone
Of high renowne, but as a living death,
So dead alyve, of lyef he drewe the breath.
The bodyes reft, the quyete of the hart,
The travayles eaſe, the ſtill nightes feer was he.
And of our life in earth the better parte,
Reuen of fight, and yet in whom we fee
Thinges of that tide, and ofte that never bee.
Tt
2
€58
THE WORKS OF SACKVILLE,
Without refpect efteeming equally
Kyng Crefus pompe, and Irus povertie.
And next in order fad Old Age we found
His beard all hoare, his iyes hollow and blynde,
With drouping chere ftill poring on the ground,
As on the place where nature him affinde
To reft, when that the fifters had untwynde
His vitall threde, and ended with theyr knyfe
The fleeting courſe of faft declining life.
об
There heard we him with broken and hollow
playn,
Rewe with him felfe his ende approaching faft,
And all for nought his wretched minde torment
With fwete remembraunce of his pleaſures paft,
And freſhe delites of lufty youth forwafte.
Recounting which, how would he fob and fhrike:
And to be yong againe of Jove beſeke.
But and the cruell fates fo fixed be
That time forpaft can not retourne agayne,
This one requeft of Jove yet prayed he
That in fuch withered plight, and wretched paine,
As elde (accompanied with his lothſom trayne)
Had brought on him, all were it woe and griefe.
He might a while yet linger forth his lief;
And not fo foone defcend into the pit,
With greedy lookes, and gaping mouth that
cryed,
And roard for meat as the fhould there have dyed,
Her body thin and bare as any bone,
Wharto was left nought but the cafe alone;
And that alas was knawen on every where
All full of holes, that I ne mought refrayne
From teares, to ſee how the her armies could teare,
And with her teeth gnafh on the bones in vayne :
When all for nought the fayne would fo fuftayne
Her ftarven corps, that rather feemdea fhade,
Then any fubftaunce of a creature made.
Great was her force whom ftonewall could not
ftay,
Her tearyng nayles fcratching at all ſhe fawe:
With gaping jawes that by no means ymay
Be fatisfyed from hunger of her mawe,
But eates her felfe as the that hath no lawe :
Gnawing alas her carkas all in vayne, [vayne.
Where you may count eche finow, bone, and
On her while we thus firmly fixt our iyes,
That bled for ruth of fuch a drery fight,
Loe fodayuelye fhe fhryght in fo huge wyfe,
As made hell gates to fhyver with the myght.
Wherewith a dart we fawe howe it did lyght
Ryght on her breaft, and therewithal pale death,
Where death, when he the mortall corps hath Enthryiling it to rave her of her breath.
flayne,
With retchles hande in grave doth cover it,
Thereafter never to enjoye agayne
The gladſome light, but in the ground ylayne
In depth of darknes wafte and weare to nought,
As he had never into the world been brought.
But who had feene him fobbing, howe he ſtoode
Unto himfelfe, and howe he would bemone
His youth forepaft, as though it wrought hym good
To talke of youth, al wer his youth foregone,
He would have mufed, and mervayled muche
whereon
This wretched age fhould life defyre fo fayne,
And knowes fal wel life doth but length his payne.
Crookebackt he was, tooth fhaken, and blere iyed,
Went on three feete, and fometime crept on fower,
With olde lame vones, that ratled by his fyde,
His kalpe all pilde, and he with elde forlore:
His withered fift ftil knocking at deathes dore,
Tumbling and driveling as he drawes his breth ;
For briefe, the fhape and meffenger of death.
And faft by him pale Maladie was plaſte,
Sore ficke in bed, her colour all forgone,
Bereft of ſtomake, favor, and of taſte,
Ne could fhe brooke no meat but brothes alone.
Her breath corrupt, her keepers every one
Abhorring her, her ficknes paft recure,
Detefting philicke, and all phifickes cure.
But oh the doleful fight that then we fee.
We turnde our looke, and on the other fide
A griefly fhape of Famine mought we fee,
'
And by and by a dum dead corps we ſawe,
Heavy and colde, the ſhape of death aryght,
That dauntes all earthly creatures to his lawc:
Agayuft whofe force in vayne it is to fyght
Ne pieres, ne princes, nor no mortall wyght,
No townes, ne realmes, cities, ne ſtrongeſt tower,
But al perforce muft yeeld unto his power.
His dart anon out of the corps he tooke,
And in his hand (a dreadful fight to fee)
With great triumphe eftfones the fame he fhocke,
That most of all my feares affrayed me ;
His bodie dight with nought but bones perdye,
The naked shape of man there fawe I playne,
All fave the flefhe, the fynowe, and the vayne.
Laſtly ſtoode Warre in glitteryng armes yciad.
With vifage grym, fterue lookes, and blackely
hewed:
In his right hand a naked ſworde he had,
That to the hiltes was al with bloud embrewed:
And in his left (that kinges and kingdomes rewed)
Famine and fyer he held, and there wythall
He razed townes, and threwe downe towers and
all.
Cities he fakt, and realmes that whilom flowered,
In honour, glory, and rule above the beſt,
He overwhelmde, and all theyr fame devowred,
Confumed, deſtroyed, waſted, and never ceaſt,
Tyll he theyr wealth, their name, and all oppreft.
His face forehewed with woundes, and by his
fide
There hunge his terge with gafhes dere and wyde.
INDUCTION TO A MIRROUR FOR MAGISTRATES.
659
In mids of which, depaynted there we founde
Deadly Debate, al ful of ſnaky heare,
That with a cloudy fillet was ybound,
Out breathing nought but difcord every where.
And round about were portrayed here and there
The hugie hoftes, Darius and his power,
His kynges, prynces, his pieres, and all his flower;
Whom great Macedo vanquiſht there in fight,
With diepe flaughter, difpoyling all his pryde,
Pearft through his realmes, and daunted all his
might.
Duke Hanniball beheld I there befide,
In Cannas field, victor howe he did ride,
And woful Romaynes that in vayne withſtoode,
And Conful Paulus covered all in bloode.
Yet fawe I more, the fight at Trafimene,
And Trebery fyeld, and eke when Hannibal
And worthy Scipio laſt in armes were ſeene
Before Carthago gate, to trye for all
The worldes empyre, to whom it fhould befal.
There fawe I Pompeye, and Cefar clad in armes,
Theyr hoftes alyed, and al theyr civil harmes.
With conquerours hands forbathde in their owne
blood,
And Cefar weeping over Pompeyes head.
Yet fawe I Scilla and Darius where they ſtoode,
Theyr great crueltie, and the diepe bludthed
Of frendes: Cyrus I fawe and his hoft dead,
And howe the queene with great defpyte hath
Alonge
His head in bloud of them the overcome.
Xerxes the Fercian kyng yet fawe I there,
With his huge hoſt that dranke the rivers drye,
Difmounted hilles, and made the vales uprere,
His hofte and all yet fawe I flayne perdye.
Thebes I fawe all razde howe it dyd lye
In heapes of ſtones, and Tyrus put to fpoyle, [foyle.
With walles and towers flat evened with the
But Troy, alas! (me thought) above them all,
It made mine iyes in very teares confume,
When I beheld the wofull werd befall,
That by the wrathful wyl of Gods was come:
And Jove's unmooved fentence and foredome
On Friam kyng, and on his towne ſo bent.
I could not lyn, but I must there lament.
And that the more fith Deftinie was fo fterne
As force perforce, there might no force avayle,
But the muft fall: and by her fall we learne,
That cities, towres, wealth, world, and al fhall
quayle.
[vayle,
No manhoode, might, nor nothing mought pre-
Al wer there preft, ful many a prynce and piere,
And many a knight that fold his death full deere.
In armes amyd the fyeld, are flayne in bed,
Thy Gods defylde, and all thy honour dead.
The flames upfpring, and cruelly they crepe
From wall to roofe, til all to cindres wafte;
Some fyer the houſes where the wretches flepe,
Sum rufhe in here, fome run in there as faft.
In every where or fword or fyer they taſte.
The walles are torne, the towers whurid to the
ground;
There is no miſchiefe but may there be found.
Caffandra yet there fawe I howe they haled
From Pallas' houfe, with fpercled treffe undone,
Her writes faft bound, and with Greeks rout em-
paled:
And Priam eke in vayne howe he did runne
To armes, when Pyrrhus with deſpite hath done
To cruel death, and bathed him in the bayne
Of his fonnes blud before the altare flayne.
But howe can I defcryve the doleful fight,
That in the fhylde fo livlike layer did fhyne!
Sith in this world I think was never wyght
Could have fet furth the halfe, nor halfe fo fyne.
I can no more but tell howe there is feene
Fayer Hium fall in burning red gledes downe,
And from the foyle great Troy Neptunus tow.
{draw
Herefrom when fcarce I could mine iyes with-
That fylde with tcares as doth the fpryngyng well,
We paffed on fo far furth tyl we fawe
Rude Acheron, a lothfome lake to tell,
That boyles and bubs up fweith as blacke as hell,
Where grilly Charon at theyr fixed tide
Still ferries ghoftes unto the farder fide.
The aged god no fooner Sorowe ſpyed,
But hafting trayt unto the banke apace
With hollow call unto the rout he cryed,
To fwarve apart, and geve the godeffe place.
Strayt it was done, when to the fhoar we pace,
Where hand in hand as we then linked fafte,
Within the boate we are together platte.
And furth we launch full fraughted to the brinke,
Whan with the unwonted weght, the ruſtye keele
Began to cracke as if the fame thould finke.
We hoyfe up maft and fayle, that in a whyle
We fet the fhore, where fcarcely we had while
For to arryve, but that we heard anone
A thre found barke confounded al in one.
We had not long furth paft, but that we ſawe,
Blacke Cerberus the hydeous hound of hell,
With brittles reard, and with a thre mouthed jawe,
Foredinning the ayr with his horrible yel.
Out of the diepe dark cave where he did dwell,
The goddeffe ftrayt he knewe, and by and by
He peafte and couched, while that we paffed by.
Not wurthy Hector wurthyeft of them all,
Her hope, her joye; his force is now for nought.
O Troy, Troy, there is no boote but bale;
The hugie horfe within thy walles is brought:
Thy turrets fall, thy knightes that whilom fought | Of Fluto in his trone where he dyd dwell,
Thence cum we to the horrour and the hel,
The large great kyngdomes, and the dreadful
raygne
Tt ij
€ 6 c
OF SACKVILLE,
THE WORKS
The wyde wafle places, and the hugye playne:
The waylinges, fhrykes, and fundry fortes of
payne,
The fyghes, the fobbes, the diep and deadly groane,
Earth, ayer, and all refounding playnt and moane.
Here per led the babes, and here the maydes un-
wed
With folded handes theyr fory chaunce bewayled;
Here wept the gyltles flayne, and lovers dead,
That flewe then felves when nothing elſe avayled:
A thouſand fortes of forrowes here that wayled
With fighes and teares, fobs, fhrykes, and all yfere,
That (oh, alas!) it was a hel to heare.
We stayed us ftrayt, and wyth a rufull fearc,
Beheld this heavy fight, while from mine eyes
The vapored teares downftilled here and there,
And Sorowe eke in far more woful wyfe,
Looke on with playnt, up heaving to the fkyes
Her wretched handes, that with her crye the rout
Gan all in heapes to fwarme us round about.
Loe here (faid Sorrowe) prynces of renowne,
That whilom fat on top of Fortune's wheele
Jow layed ful lowe, like wretches whurled downe,
ven with one frowne, that fiayed but with a
fmyle,
And now beholde the thing that thou crewhile,
Saw only in thought, and what thou now fhait
heare
Recompt the ſame to Kefar, King, and Pier,
Then firſt came Henry Duke of Buckingham,
His cloke of blacke al pilde and quite forworne,
Wringing his handes, and Fortune ofte doth
blame,
Which of a duke hath made him now her skorne,
With ghaftly lookes as one in manner lorne,
Oft fpred his armes, ftretcht handes he joynes 23
faſt,
With ruful chere, and vapored eyes upcaft.
His cloke he rent, his manly breaſt he beat,
His heare al torne about the place it laye,
My hart fo molte to fee his griefe ſo great,
As felingly me thought it dropt awaye :
His iyes they whurled about withouten flaye,
With ftormy fyghes the place dyd fo complayne,
As if his hart at eche had burst in twayne.
his voyce,
Thryfe he began to tell his doleful tale,
And thryfe the fighes did wallowe up
At eche of which he fhryked fo wythal
As though the heavens vied with the noyfe :
Tyll at the laſt recovering his voyce,
Supping the teares that all his breft beraynde,
On cruel Fortune weeping thus he playnde.
THE COMPLAYNT
OF
HENRYE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
WHO truftes to much in honour's higheſt trone
And warely watche not fly dame Fortune's fnare :
Or who in courte will beare the ſwaye alone,
And wyfely weygh not how to wyeld the care,
Beholde he me, and by my death beware:
Whom flattering Fortune falfely ſo begylde,
'That loc fhe flewe, where erft ful fmooth fhe
fmylde.
And Sackevylle ûith in purpoſe nowe thou haft
The woful fal of prynces to difcryve,
Whom Fortune both uplyft, and gayn downe caft,
To fhewe thereby the unfurety in this life,
Mark wel my fal, which I ſhall ſhewe belyve,
And paynt it furth that all eſtates may knowe:
Have they the warning, and be mine the woe.
For noble bloud made me both prince and pier,
Yea pierles too, had reaſon purchaſt place,
And God with giftes endowed me largely here.
But what avayles his giftes, where fayles his
grace:
My mothers fyer fprong of a kyngly race
And calde was Edmund Duke of Somerſet,
Bereft of lyfe ere tyme by nature fet.
Whofe faythful hart to Henry fyrt fo wrought,
That never he hym in weale or woe forfooke,
Tyl laftly he at Tewxbury fyeld was cought
Wherewith an axe his violent death he toke:
He never could Kyng Edwardes party brooke,
Tyil by his death he vouchte that quarell good,
In which his fyer and graundfyer fpylt theyr
bloud.
And fuch was erft my fathers cruell chaunce,
Of Stafford Earle, by name that Humfrey hyght,
Who ever preft dyd Henries parte avaunce,
And never ceaſt tyl at Saynt Albones fight
He lost his lyfe, as than did many a knyght:
Where eke my graundfyer Duke of Buckingham
Was wounded fore, and hardly fkapte untane.
But what may boote to ſtay the fifters three?
When Atropos perforce wil cut the threde:
The doleful day was come when you might fee
Northampton fyeld with armed men orefpred,
Where fate would algates have my graundfyer dead;
So rufhing furth amyds the fyerceft fight,
He lived and dyed there in his maſters ryght.
In place of whom, as it befel my lot,
Like on a ſtage, ſo ſtept I in ftrayt waye,
Enjoying there but wofully, God wot,
As he that had a flender part to playe:
To teache therby, in earth no flate may ſtay,
But as our partes abridge, or length our age,
So paffe we all, while others fyll the ſtage.
For of my felfe, the drery fate to playne,
I was fometime a prince withouten pier,
When Edward Fift began his ruful raygne,
Ay me, then I began that hatefull yeare,
To cumpas that which I have bought fo dcare:
I bare the fwynge, I and that wretched wyght,
The Duke of Glocefter that Rychard hyght.
For when the fates had reft that royal prince
Edward the Fourth, chiefe myrrour of that name,
The Duke and I faft joyned ever since,
In faythfull love, our fecrete driftes to frame:
What he thought beft to me fo teemde the fameş
My felfe not bent ſo much for to aſpyer,
As to fulfyl that greedy Dukes defyre;
Te iij
662
OF SACKVILLE.
THE WORKS
Whofe reflefs minde fore thyrfting after rule,
When that he fawe his nephewes both to ben
Through tender yeares as yet unfit to rule,
And rather ruled by theyr mothers kyn,
There fought he firſt his miſchyefe to begyn,
To plucke from them theyr mothers frendes af-
fynde,
For wel he wift they would withſtand his mynde.
To folowe which, he ran fo headlong fwyft,
With eygrr thyrft of his deſired draught,
To feeke theyr deathes that fought to dafhe his
dryft,
Of whom the chiefe the queenes allyes he thought,
That bent thereto with mountes of mischiefe
fraught,
He knewe theyr lyves would be fo fore his let,
That in theyr deathcs his only helpe he fet.
And I moſt curfed caytief that I was,
Seeing the state unftedfaft howe it ftood,
His chief complyce to bryng the fame to paſſe,
Unhappy wretche, confented to theyr blood:
Ye kinges and piers that fwim in worldly good,
In ſeeking blud the ende advert you playne,
And fee if bloud ey afke not blud agayne.
Confyder Cyrus in your cruell thought,
A makeles prynce in ryches and in myght,
And weygh in minde the bloudy dedes he
wrought,
In fheading which he fet his whole delyght :
But fee the guerdon lotted to this wyght,
He whofe huge power no man might overthrowe,
Tomyris queen with great defpite hath flowe.
His head difmembred from his mangled corps,
Her felfe fhe caft into a veffel fraught
With clottered bloud of them that felt her force.
And with thefe wordes a juſt reward ſhe taught :
Drynke nowe thy fyll of thy defyred draught.
Loe marke the fine that did thi prynce befall;
Marke not this one, but marke the ende of all.
Behold Cambifes and his fatal daye,
Where murders miſchiefe myrrour like is left:
While he his brother Mergus caft to flaye,'
A dreadful thing, his wittes were him bereft.
A fword he caught, wherewith he perced eft
His body gored, which he of liefe bencoms:
So juft is God in all his dreadfull doomes.
•
O bluddy Brutus, rightly didft thou rew,
And thou Caffius juftly came thy fall,
That with the fwurd wherewith thou Cefar flewe
Murdret thy felfe, and reft thy life withall.
A myrrour let him be unto you all
That murderers be, of murder to your meede:
For murder crieth out vengeance on your feede.
Loe Beffus, he that armde with murderers knyfe,
And taytrous hart agaynft his royall king,
With bluddy handes bereft his mayfters life,
Advert the fine his fowle offence dyd bryng:
And lothing murder as moft lothly thing,
Beholde in him the juſt deſerved fall,
That ever hath, and fhall betide them all.
What booted him his falfe ufurped raygne,
Whereto by murder he did fo afcende?
When like a wretche, led in an yron chayne
He was prefented by his chiefeft frende
Unto the foes of him whom he had ſlayne:
That even they ſhould venge fo fowle a gylt,
That rather fought to have his bloud yſpylt.
Take hede ye princes and ye prelates all
Of this outrage, which though it fleepe a while,
And not difclofde, as it doth feeld befall,
Yet God that fuffreth filence to beguyle
Such gyltes, wherewith both earth and ayre ye
file,
At laſt difcryes them to your fowle deface,
You fee the examples fet before your face.
And deepely grave within your ftony hartes,
The drery dewle that myghty Macedo,
With teares unfolded wrapt in deadly ſmartes,
When he the death of Clitus forowed fo,
Whom erſt he murdred wyth the deadly blowe,
Raught in his rage upon his frende fo deare,
For which beholde loe how his panges appere.
The launced fpear he writhes out of the wound,
From which the purple blud fpins on his face :
His heynous gylt when he returned found,
He throwes him felfe upon the corpes alas..
And in his armes howe ofte doth he imbrace
His murdred frende? and kyffyng him in vayne,
Furth flowe the fluds of falte repentant rayne.
His frendes amazde at fuch a murder doen,
In fearful flockes begyn to fhrynke away.
And he thereat with heapes of grief forenoen,
Hateth him felfe, wiſhing his latter daye.
Nowe he him felfe perceyved in lyke itaye,
As is the wilde beaſt in the defert bred,
Both dreading others, and him felfe adred.
He calles for death, and loathing lenger lyfe,
Bent to bis bane, refuſeth kyndely foode :
And ploungde in depth of death and dolours ſtryfe,
Had quelde him felfe, had not his frendes wyth
ſtoode.
Loe he that thus had ſhed the gyltleles blud,
Though he were kyng and Cefar over all,
Yet chofe he death to guerdon death withall.
This prynce whofe pyer was never under foune,
Whofe glyftening fame the earth did overglyde,
Whych with his power welnye the world had
wonne,
His bluddy handes him felfe could not abyde,
But fully bent with famine to have dyed:
The wurthy prynce deemed in his regarde
That death for death could be but jutt rewarde.
Yet we that were fo drowned in the depth
Of diep defyre to drinke the gylteles blud,
Lyke to the wulfe, with greedy lookes that lepth
THE COMPLAYNT OF HENRYE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
663
}
Into the fnare, to feede on deadly fondė,
So we delyghted in the ftate we floode,
Blinded fo farre in all our blynded trayne,
That blind, we fawe not our deflruction playnė.
We fpared none whofe life could ought forlet
Our wycked purpoſe to his pas to cum.
Fower wurthy knyghtes we headed at Pomfret,
Gyltles (God wot) withouten lawe or doome.
My heart even bleedes to tell you al and fome,
And howe Lord Haftinges when he feared leaft,
Difpiteouſly was murdred and oppreft.
Theſe rockes uprcught, that threatned most our
wreck,
We feemde to fayle much furer in the fireame:
And fortune fayring as fhe were at becke,
Layed in our lap the rule of all the realnie.
The nephewes. ſtrayt depofde were by the game;
And we advaunft to that we bought full deare,
He crowned king, and I his chyefeſt pyer.
Thus having wonne our long defirid pray,
To make him king that he might make me chiefe,
Downthrow we frayt his fellie nephews twaye
From princes pompe, to woful prifoners lyfe :
In hope that nowe tynt was all furder ftryfe.
Sith he was king, and I chief ftroke did beare,
Who joyed but we, yet who more caule to feare?
The gyltles bloud which we unjustly ſhed,
The royal babes deveſteſt from theyr trone,
And we like traytours raygning in theyr fted,
Thefe heavy burdens preffed us upon,
Tormenting us fo by our felves alone,
Much like the felon that purfued by night,
Starts at eche bufhe as his foe were in fight.
Nowe doubting ftate, nowe dreading loffe of life,
In fear of wrecke at every blaſt of wynde,
Now ftart in dreames through dread of murdrers
knyfe,
As though even then revengement were affynde.
With reitles thought fo is the guylty mince
Turmoyled, and never feeleth eaſe or ſtay,
But lives in feare of that which followes aye.
Well gave that judge his doome upon the death
Of Titus Clelius that in bed was flayne:
Whan every wight the cruell murder leyeth
To his two fonnes that in his chamber layen,
The judge, that by the proofe percey veth playne,
That they were found fatt fleeping in theyr bed,
Hath deemde them gyltles of this blud yfbed.
He thought it could not be, that they which brake
The lawes of God and man in fuch outrage,
Could fo forthwith them felves to flepe betake:
He rather thought the horror and the rage
Of fuch an haynous gykt, could never fwage,
Nor never fuffer them to flepe or reſt,
Or dreadles breath one breath out of theyr breſt.
So gnawes the griefe of confcynce evermore,
And in the hart it is fo diepe ygrave,
That they may neyther flepe nor rett therefore,
Ne thynke one thought but on the dread they
have.
Styl to the death fortoffed with the wave
Of reftles woe, in terror and difpeyre,
They lead a lyef continually in feare.
Like to the dere that ftryken with the dart,
Withdrawes him felfe into fome fecrete place,
And feeling green the wound about his hart,
Startles with panges tyl he fall on the graffe,
And in great feare lyes gafping there a space,
Furth braying fighes as though eche pange had
brought
The prefent death which he doeth dread ſo oft.
So we diepe wounded with the bluddy thought,
And gnawing wurme that grieved our confcience fo
Never took eafe, but as our hart furth brought
The ſtrayned fyghes in wytnes of our woe,
Such reftles cares our fault did well bekuowe a.
Wherewith of our deferved fall the feares
In every place rang death within our eares.
And as yll grayne is never well ykept,
So fared it by us within a while!
That which fo long wyth fuch unrest we reapt,
In dread and daunger by all wyt and wyle,
Loe fee the fine, when once it felt the whele
Of flipper fortune, ſtay it mought no ftowne,
The wheele whurles up, but flrayt it whurleth
downe.
For having rule and riches in our hand,
Who durft gaynfay the thing that we averde?
Wyl was wyfedome, our luft for lawe dyd ftand,
In forte fo firaunge, that who was not afeard
When he the found but of Kyng Rychard heard ?
So hatefull wart the hearyng of his name,
That you may deeme the refidewe by the fame.
But what awaylde the terror and the fear,
Wherewyth he kept his lieges under awe?
It rather wan him hatred every where,
And fayned faces fort by feare of lawe :
That but while fortune doth with favour blaw
Flatter through fear: for in their hart lurkes aye
A fecrete hate that hopeth for a daye.
Recordeth Dionifius the kynge,
That with his rigor fo his realme oppreft,
As that he thought by cruell feare to bryng
His fubjects under, as him lyked beſt :
But loe the dread wherewyth him felfe was ſtref,
And you fhall fee the fine of forced feare,
Moft myrrour like in this proud prynce appeare.
All were his head with crowne of golde yfprad,
And in his hand the royal fcepter fet,
And he with pryncely purple rychely clad,
Yet was his hart wyth wretched cares orefret :
And inwardly with deadly fear befet,
Of thoſe whom he by rygour kept in awe,
And fore oppreft with might of tyrants lawe.
Agaynft whofe feare, no heapes of golde and glie,
Ne ftrength of garde, nor all his hired power,
Tt iiij
I
664
THE WORKS OF SACKVILLE.
Ne prowde hyghe towers that preaced to the kyc,
His cruel hart of fafetie could affure :
But dreading them whom he ſhould deeme moſt
fure,
[cear,
Hym felfe his beard wyth burning brand would
Of death defervde fo vexed him the feare.
This might fuffice to reprefent the fine
Of tyrantes force, theyr feares, and theyr unreſt.
But hear this one, although my hart repyne
To let the found once fiynk wythin my breft;
Of fell Phereus, that above the reft,
Such lothfum crueltee on his people wrought,
As (oh alas) I tremble wyth the thought.
Sum he encafed in the coates of beares,
Among wylde beaftes devoured ſo to be:
And fum for preye unto the hunters fpeares,
Lyke favage beates withouten ruth to dye.
Sumtime to encreaſe his horrible crueltye,
The quicke with face to face engraved hee,
Eche others death, that eche mought living fee.
Loe what more cruell horror mought be found,
To purchaſe feare, if feare could ſtaye his raygne?
It booted not, it rather ftrake the wounde
Of feare in him, to feare the lyke agayne.
And fo he dyd full ofte and not in vayne :
As in his life his cares could wytneſs well
But mofte of all his wretched ende doth tell.
His owne dere wyfe whom as his life he loved,
He durft not truft, nor proche unto her bed,
But caufing fyrſt his flave with naked fworde
To go before, him felfe with tremblyng dread
Strayt foloweth faft, and whorling in his head.
His rolling iyen, he fearcheth here and there
The diepe daunger that he fo fore did feare.
For not in vayne it ranft yll in his brcft,
Sum wretched hap fhould hale him to his ende.
And therefore alwaye by his pillowe preft
Had he a ſworde, and with that ſworde he wende,
In vayne (God wote) all peryls to defende:
For loe his wife foreyrked of his rayne,
Sleeping in bed this cruell wretche hath flayne.
What fhould I more now feeke to fay in this ?
Or one jot farder linger furth my tale?
With crucl Nero, or with Phalaris,
Caligula, Domician, and all
'The cruell route? or of theyr wretched fall?
1 can no more, but in my name advert
Al earthly powers beware of tyrants hart.
And as our ftate endured but a throwe;
So beit in us the ftaye of ſuch a ſtate
May beft appeare to hang an overthrowe,
And better teache tyrantes deſerved hate
Than any tyrantes death to fore or late.
So cruell feemde this Rychard Thyrd to me,
That loe my felfe now loathde his crueltee.
| Saunce earthly gylt ycaufing both be flayne,
My hart agreyved that fuch a wretch fhould
raygne,
For when, alas! I faw the tyrant kyng
Content not only from his nephewes twayne
To ryve worldes blyfle, but alſo al worldes beyng,
Whofe bluddy breft ſo ſalvaged out of kynde,
That Phalaris had never fo bluddy a minde.
Ne could I brooke him once wythin my breft,
But wyth the thought my teeth would gnafhe
wythal:
For though I earft wer his by fworne beheft;
Yet when I fawe mifchiefe on miſchiefe fall,
So diepe in blud, to murder prynce and all,
Ay then thought I, alas, and wealaway,
And to my felfe thus mourning would I fay.
If neyther love, kynred, ne knot of bloud,
His own alegeaunce to his prynce of due,
Nor yet the ſtate of truft wherein he ftoode,
The worldes defame, nor nought could turn him
true.
[rue?
Thofe gyltleles babes, could they not make him
Nor could theyr youth, nor innocence withal
Move him from reving them theyr lyfe and all?
Alas, it could not move him any jote,
Ne make him once to rue or wet his iye,
Sturde him no more than that that ſtyrreth not:
But as the rocke or ſtone that wyl not plye,
So was his hart made hard to crueltye,
To murder them; alas I weepe in thought,
To thinke on that which this fell wretche hath
wrought.
That nowe when he had done the thing he fought,
And as he would, complyfht and cúmpaſt all,
And fawe and knewe the treaſon he had wrought
To God and man, to flaye his prynce and all,
Then feemde he fyrft to doubte and dreade us all,
And me in chiefe, whoes death all meanes he
myght,
He fought to wurke by malice and by might.
| Such heapes of harmes upharbard in his breſt,
With envyous hart my honour to defa、c,
As knowing he that I whych woted beſt
His wretched dryftes, and all his curſed caſe,
If ever fprang within me fparke of grace,
Muft nedes abhorre him and his hatefull race:
Now more and more can caft me out of grace.
Which fodayue chaunge, when I by fecrete
chaunce,
Had well perceyved by proofe of envious frowne,
And fawe the lot that did me to advaunce
Hym to a kyng that fought to caſt me downe,
To late it was to linger any ftowne :
Syth prefent choyfe lay caft before myne iye,
To wurke his death, or I my felfe to dye.
And as the knyght in fyeld among his foes,
Befet wyth fwurdes, muft flay or there be flayne:
So, alas, lapt in a thouſand woes,
Beholding death in every fyde fo playne,
I rather chofe by fum ilye fecrète trayne
To wurke his death, and I to lyve thereby,
Than he to lyve, and I of force to dye. -
THE COMPLAYNT OF HENRYE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
665
Which heavy choyſe fo haftened me to chofe,
That I in parte agryeved at his diſdayne,
In part to wreke the dolefull death of thofe
Two tender babes, his fillye nephewes twayne,
By him alas commaunded to be ſlayne,
With paynted chere humbly before his face,
Strayght tooke my leave, and rode to Brecknocke
place.
And there as cloſe and covert as I myght.
My purpoſed practife to his paffe to bryng,
In fecrete dryftes, I lingred day and night :
All howe I might depoſe this cruell kyng,
That ſeemd to all fo much defyred a thyng,
As thereto truſting I empryfde the fame;
But to much trufting brought me to my bane.
For while I nowe had fortune at my becke,
Miftrufting I no earthly thing at all,
Unwares, alas, leaſt looking for a checke,
She mated me in turning of a ball :
When leaſt I fearde, then nereft was my fall,
And when whole hoaftes wer preft to ftroy my
foen,
She chaunged her chere, and left me poft alone.
I had uprayfde a mighty band of men,
And marched furth in order of array,
Leadyng my power amyd the foreft Dene,
Agaynſt that tyrant banner to diſplaye :
But loe my fouldiers cowardly fhranke away.
For fuch is fortune when the lyft to frowne;
Who feemes moft fure, him fooneft whurles fhe
downe
O let no prynce put truſt in commontie,
Nor hope in fayth of gyddy peoples mynde,
But let all noble men take hede by me,
That by the proofe to well the payne do fynde :
Loe, where is truth or truft? or what could bynde
The vayne people, but they will ſwarve and ſwaye,
As chaunce bryngs chaunge, to dryve and draw
that way?
Rome, thou that once advaunced up fo hye,
Thy ftaye, patron, and flower of excellence,
Haft nowe throwen him to depth of miferye,
Exiled him that was thy whole defence,
He comptest it not an horryble offence:
To reven him of honour and of fame,
That wan it thee, when thou hadft loft the fame.
Beholde Camillus, he that erft revyved
The ſtate of Rome, that dyeng he dyd fynde,
Of his own ftate is nowe alas depryved,
Banifht by them whom he dyd thus det bynde:
That cruel folke, unthankeful and unkynde,
Declared wel theyr falfe inconftancye,
And fortune eke her mutability.
And thou Scipio, a myrrour mayst thou be
To all nobles, that they learn not too late,
Howe they once truſt the unſtable commontye,
Thou that recuredit the torne dismembred flate,
Even when the conquerour was at the gate,
Art now expide, as though thou not deſerved
To reft in her, whom thou hadſt ſo preſerved,
Ingrateful Rome haft fhewed thy crueltye,
On hym, by whom thou lyveft yet in fame,
But nor thy dede, nor his defert ſhall dye,
But his owne wurdes fhal witnes aye the fame:
For loe hys grave doth thee moſt juſtly blame.
And with difdayne in marble fayes to thee:
Unkynde countrey, my bones fhalt thou not fee,
What more unwurthy than this his eryle :
More juſt than this the wofull playnt he wrote:
Or who could fhewe a playner proofe the while,
Of mofte falfe fayth, than they that thus forgot
His great defertes: that fo deferved not:
His cindres yet loe, doth he them denye,
That him denyed amongst them for to dye.
Milciades, O happy haft thou be,
And well rewarded of thy countrey men.
If in the fyeld when thou hadit forſt to flye
By thy prowes, thre hundred thouſand men,
Content they had bene to eryle thee then :
And not to caft thee in depth priſon ſo,
Laden wyth gyves to ende thy lyfe in woe.
Alas howe harde and ſteely hartes had they,
That not contented there to have thee dye,
With fettred gyves in pryſon where thou layc,
Increaſt ſo far in hateful crueltye,
That buryall to thy corps, they eke denye
He wyl they graunt the fame tyll thy fonne have
Put on thy gyves to purchafe thee a grave.
Loe Hanniball as long as fired fate,
And bryttle fortune had ordayned ſo,
Who ever more advauntft his countrey ftate
Then thou, that lyvedit for her and for no moe :
But when the ſtormy waves began to grow,
Without refpect of thy defertes erwhile,
Art by thy countrey throwen into exyle.
Unfrendly Fortune, fhall I thee now blame :
Or fhal I faulte the fates that ſo ordayne?
Or art thou Jove the caufer of the fame?
Or crueltie her ſelfe, doth ſhe conftrayne?
Or on whom els alas thal I complayne?
O truftles world i can accufen none,
But fyckle fayth of commontye alone.
The polipus nor the chameleon ftraunge,
That turne them felves to every hewe they fce,
Are not fo full of bayne and fickle chaunge
As is this falfe unftedfaft commontye.
Loe I alas with mine adverſitie
Have tryed it true, for they are fled and gone,
And of an holt there is not left me one.
That I alas in this calamitie
Alone was left, and to my felfe mought playne
This treaſon, and this wretched cowardye,
And eke with teares bewepen and complayne
My hateful hap, ftyll lookyng to be flayne.
Wandryng in woe, and to the gods on hye
Cleapyng for vengeance of this treacherye,
666
THE WORKS OF SACKVILLË.
!
And as the turtle that hath loft her make,
Whom grypyng forowe doth fo fore attaynt,
With doleful voyce and found whych the doth
make
Mourning her loffe, fylles all the grove with playnt;
So I, alas! forfaken, and forfaynt,
With reftles foote the wud come up and downe,
Which of my dole al thyvering doth refowne.
And beyng thus alone, and all forfake,
Amyd the thycke, forwandred in deſpayer,
As one difmayed ne wyft what waye to take,
Untyll at laft gan to my mynde repayer,
A man of mine called Humfrey Banaftar :
Wherewyth me feeling much recomforted.
In hope of fuccour to his houfe I fled.
Who beyng one whom earft I had upbrought
Even from his youth, and loved and lyked beſt,
To gentrye ſtate avaunciug him from nought;
And had in fecrete truft above the reft,
Of ſpecyal truſt nowe being thus dyſtreſt
Full fecreatly to him I me conveyed
Not doubting there but I ſhould fynde fome ayde.
But out alas on cruell trecherye,
When that this cayticf once an ynklyng hard,
How that Kyng Rychard had proclaymde, that he
Which me defcryed fhould have for his rewarde
A thousand poundes, and farther be prefarde,
His truthe fo turnde to treaſon, all diſtaynde,
That fayth quyte fled, and I by truft was traynde.
For by this wretch I beyng ſtrayt betrayed,
To one John Mitton, fhiriffe of Shropshire then,
All fodaynely was taken, and convayed
To Saliſbury, wyth rout of harneſt men,
Unto Kyng Rychard there encamped then :
Faſt by the citye with a myghtye hofte
Withouten doome where head and lyfe I loft.
And with thefe wordes, as if the are even there
Difmembred had his head and corps aparte,
Dead fel he downe: and we in woful feare
Stoode mazed when he would to lyef revert :
But deadly griefes ftill grewe about his hart,
That ftyll he laye, fumtyme revived wyth payne,
And wyth a fygh becuming dead agayne.
Mydnyght was cum, and every vitall thing
With fwete found flepe theyr weary lyms did reft,
The beaftes were ftill, the lytle hyrdes that fyng,
Nowe fweetely flept befides theyr mothers breft:
The olde and all were fhrowded in theyr neft.
The waters calme, the cruel feas did ceas,
The wuds, the fyeldes, and all thinges held theyr
peace.
The golden fars wer whyrlde amyd thyer race,
And on the earth did laugh with twinkling lyght,
When eche thing neftled in his reftyng place,
Forgat dayes payne with pleaſure of the nyght:
The hare had not the greedy houndes in ſight,
The fearfull dear of death ſtood not in doubt,
The partrydge drept not of the falcons foot.
The ougly beare nowe myndeth not the flake,
Nor how the cruell maftyves do hym tear;
The ftag lay ftill unroufed from the brake,
The fomy boar feard not the hunters fpear.
All thing was ftill in defert, bufh, and brear.
With quyet heart now from their travailes reft,
Soundly they flept in midſt of all their reſt.
When Buckyngham amidſt his plaint oppreft,
With furgyng forowes and with pinching paynes
In fort thus fowned, and with a figh he ceaft.
To tellen furth the treachery and the traynes,
Of Banaftar, which him fo fore diftraynes.
That from a figh he falles into a founde,
And from a founde lyeth ragyng on the ground.
So twiching wer the panges that he affayed,
And he fo fore with rufull rage diftraught,
To thinke upon the wretch that hym betrayed,
Whom earst he made a gentylman of naught,
That more and more agreved with this thought,
He ftormes out fighes, and with redoubled fore,
Stroke with the furics, rageth more and more.
Who fo hath feene the bull chafed with dartes,
And with dyepe woundes forgald and gored fo,
Tyl he oppreffed with the deadlye fmartes,
Fall in a rage, and runne upon his foe,
Let him I faye, beholde the ragyog woe
Of Buckyngham, that in thefe grypes of gryefe
Rageth gaynft him that hath betrayed his lyef
With blud red iyen he ftareth here and there,
Frothing at mouth, with face as pale as cloute :
When loe my lymmes were trembling all for feare,
And I amazde ftoode ftyll in dread and doubt,
While I mought fee him throwe his armes about:
And gaynft the ground him felfe plounge with
fuch force,
As if the lyfe forth wyth fhould leave the corps.
With fmoke of fyghes fumtyme I myght beholde
The place al dymde, like to the mornyng myft:
And ſtrayt agayne the teares how they downrolde
Alongit his checkes, as if the ryvers hyſt:
Whoes flowing freemes ne wer no fooner whift,
But to the stars fuch dreadfull fhoutes he fent,
As if the trone of mighty Jove ſhould rent.
And I the while with fpirites wel nye bereft,
Beheld the plyght and panges that dyd him ſtraynes
And howe the blud his deadly colour left,
And ftrayt returnde with flamyng red agayne:
When fodaynly amid his ragyng payne,
He gave a fygh, and with that fygh he fayed s
O! Banaſtar, and ſtrayt agayne he ſtayed.
Dead laye his corps as dead as any ſtone,
Tyll fwellyng fyghes ftormyng within his breft
Uprayfde his head, that downe ward fell anone,
With lookes upcaft, and fyghes that never ceaft:
Furth ftreamde the teares, recordes of his unreſt,
When he wyth fhrykes thus groveling on the
ground,
Ybrayed theſe wordes with fhrylland doleful found,
THE COMPLAYNT OF HENRYE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
667
Heaven and earth, and ye eternal lampes
That in the heavens wrapt, wyl us to reft,
Thou bryght Phebe, that cleareft the nightes dampes,
Witnes the playntes that in theſe panges oppreft
] woful wretche unlade out of my breft.
And let me yeald my laſt wordes ere I part,
You, you, I call to record of my ſmart.
And thou, Alecto, feede me wyth thy foode,
Let fal thy ferpentes from thy ſnaky heare,
For fuch relyefe wel fittes me in this moode,
To feede my playnt with horror and wyth feare,
While rage afreſhe thy venomd worme arear.
And thou Sibilla, when thou feeft me faynte,
Addres thy felfe the gyde of my complaynt.
And thou, O Jove, that with thy depe fordoome
Doft rule the earth, and raygne above the ſkyes,
That wrekeft wronges, and geveſt the dreadful
doome
Agaynft the wretche that doth thy trone defpyfe,
Receyve theſe wurdes, and wreake them in fuch
wyfe,
As heaven and earth may witneffe and beholde,
Thy heapes of wrath upon this wretche unfolde.
Thou, Banafter, gaynft thee I clepe and call
Unto the gods, that they juft vengeaunce take
On thee, thy bloud, thy ftayned ſtocke and all :
0 Jove, to thee, above the reft I make
My humble playnt, guyde me that what I ſpeake
May be thy wyll upon thys wretche to fall,
On thee, Banaftar, wretche of wretches all.
O would to God, that cruel diſmal daye,
That gave me lyght fyrft to behold thy face,
With fowle eclipfe had reft my fyght away:
The unhappy hower, the tyme, and eke the place,
The funne and moone, the fters, and all that was
In theyr afpectes helping in ought to thee,
The earth, and ayer, and all accurfed bce.
And thou, caytief, that like a monftar fwarved,
From kynde and kyndenes, haft thy mayſter lorne,
Whont neyther truth, nor truft wherein thou fer-
ved,
Ne his defertes, could move, nor thy fayth fworne
Howe fhall I curfe, but wysh that thou unborne
Had bene, or that the earth had rent in twaye,
And ſwallowed thee in cradle as thou laye.
To this did I even from thy tender youth
Witfave to bryng thee up: dyd I therefore
Beleve the oath of thy undoubted trouth?
Advaunce thee up, and trust thee evermore?
By trufting thee that I should dye therefore?
O wretche, and wurfe than wretche, what fhal I
fay,
And in this fort with ſhame and ſharpe reproche,
Leade thou thy life till greater grief approch.
Dole and defpayer, let thoſe be thy delight,
Wrapped in woes that can not be unfolde,
To wayle the day, and wepe the weary night,
With rayny iyen and fyghes can not be tolde,
And let no wyght thy woe feeke to withholde :
But coumpt thee wurthy (wretche) of forrowes
ſtore,
That fuffryng much, oughteſt ſtill to ſuffer more,
Deſerve thou death, yea be thou demed to dye
A fhamefull death, to ende thy fhamefull lyfe :
A fyght longed for, joyfull to everye iye,
Whan thou shalt be arraygned as a thief,
Standing at bar, and pleading for thy lyef,
With trembling toung in dread and dolors rage,
Lade with white lockes, and fowerfkore yeres of
age.
Yet fhall not death delyver thee fo foone
Out of thy woes, fo happye fhalt thou not bee
But to the eternal Jove this is my boone,
That thou may live thine eldeſt fonne to fee
Reft of his wits, and in a fowle bores ftye
Te ende his dayes in rage and death diſtreſt,
A wurthy tumbe where one of thyne fhould reft.
And after this, yet pray I more, thou may
Thy fecond fonne fee drowned in a dyke,
And in fuch forte to clofe his latter daye,
As heard or feen earft hath not bene the lyke :
Yftrangled in a puddle not fo deepe
As halfe a foote, that fuch hard loffe of lyfe,
So cruelly chaunft, may be thy greater gryefe.
Jove fhal not fo withholde his wrath fro thee,
And not yet fhall thy hugie forrowes ceaſe;
But that thy plagues may more and more increas
Thou shalt ſtill lyve, that thou thy felfe mayſt ſce
Thy deare doughter ſtroken with leprofye:
That the that earſt was all thy hole delyght,
Thou now mayſt loath to have her cum in fight,
And after that, let ſhame and forrowes gryefe
Feede furth thy yeares continually in wo,
That thou mayeft live in death, and dye in lyef,
And in this forte forewayld and wearyed ſo,
At length thy ghoft to parte thy body fro:
This pray I Jove, and wyth this latter breath,
Vengeaunce I afke upon my cruell death.
This fayd, he floung his retchles armes abrode,
And groveling flat upon the ground he lay,
Which with his teetli he al to gnafht and gnawed:
Depe groanes he fet, as he that would awaye.
But loe in vayne he dyd the death affay :
Although I thinke was never man that knewe,
But cleap and curfe gaynft thee and thyne for aye? Such deadly paynes where death dyd not enfewe,
Hated be thou, diſdaynd of every wyght,
And poynted at where ever that thou goe,
A trayterous wretche, unwurthy of the light,
Be thou eftemed; and to encreaſe thy woe,
The found be hatefull of thy name alfo :
So ftrove he thus a while as with the death,
Nowe pale as lead, and colde as any ftone.
Nowe flyl as calme, nowe ftorming forth a breath
Of fmoaky fyghes, as breath and al were gone;
But
every thing hath ende: fo he anque
:
868
THE WORKS OF SACKVILLE.
Came to him felfe, when wyth a ſygh outbrayed, | Even kinges and kefars byden fortunes throwes;
With woful cheare theſe woful wurdes he fayd.
'Ah where am I, what thing, or whence is this?
Who reft my wyts? or howe do I thus lye ?
My lims do quake, my thought agaſted is,
Why fyghe I fo? or whereunto do I
Thus grovel on the ground: and by and by
Uprayfde he ftoode, and wyth a ſygh hath ſtayed,
When to him felfe returned, thus he fayed.
Suffifeth nowe this playnt and this regrete,
Whereof my hart his bottome hath unfraught :
And of my death let pieres and princes wete
The wolves untruft, that they thereby be taught.
And in her wealth, fith that fuch chaunge is
wrought,
Hope not to much, but in the myds of all
Thinke on my death, and what may them befall.
So long as fortune would permyt the fame,
I lyved in rule and ryches wyth the beſt :
And paſt my time in honour and in fame;
That of miſhap no feare was in my breſt:
But falſe fortune whan I fufpected leaft,
Dyd turne the wheele, and wyth a dolefull fall
Hath me bereft of honour, life, and all.
Loe what avayles in ryches fluds that flowes :
Though the fo fmylde as all the world wer his :
And fimple forte muſt bear it as it is.
Take hede by me that blithd in balefull bliffe:
My rule, my riches, royall blud and all,
Whan fortune frounde, the feller made my fall.
For hard mishaps that happens unto fuch,
Whoes wretched ſtate earſt never fell no chaunge,
| Agryve them not in any part ſo much,
As theyr diftres to whome it is fo ftraunge,
That all theyr lyves nay paffed pleaſures raunge:
Theyr fodayne wo that ay wield welth at will,
Algates their hartes more pearcingly muſt thrill.
For of my byrth, my blud was of the beſt,
Fyrſt borne an Earle, than Duke by due difcent :
To ſwinge the fway in court amonge the reft,
Dame Fortune me her rule moft largely lent:
And kynd with corage fo my corps had blent,
That loe on whom but me dyd fhe moſt fmyle:
And whom but nie lo, dyd fhe moſt begyle?
Now haft thou heard the whole of my unhap,
My chaunce, my chaunge, the cauſe of all my
care :
In wealth and wo, how fortune dyd me wrap,
With world at will to win me to her fnare.
Byd kynges, byd kefars, byd all ſtates beware,
And tell them this from me that tryed it true :
Who reckles rules, right foone may hap to rue,
"
A GLOSSARY.
A, which is commonly called the indefinite arti-
cle, is really nothing more than a corruption of
the Saxon adjective ane or an, before a ſubſtan-
tive beginning with a confonant. It is fome-
times prefixed to another adjective, the ſubſtan-
tive to which both belong being underſtood,
e. g. A Frere there was, a wanton and a mery.
It is alſo joined to nouns plural taken collec-
tively, as, an hundred frankes, a thoufand frankes,
--and to fuch as are not uſed in the fingular
number, as a liftes. So the Latins faid Une li-
teræ, Cic. ad Att. v. 9, and the French formerly
unes lices, unes lettres, unes tréves, Froissart, v. i.
c. 153, 237, v. ii. c. 78
|
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A, prep. before a gerund, is a corruption of on.
To go a begging, i. e. on begging. The prep.
is often expreffed at length; on hunting ben
they ridden; To ride on hawking. In the
fame manner, before a noun it is generally a
corruption of on or in ;e. g. a'bed ; a'fire; a'God-|
des name; a'morwe; a'night; a'werke; though
in fome of theſe inftances perhaps it may as
well be ſuppoſed to be a corruption of at.-A,
in compofition, in words of Saxon original, is an
abbreviation of af or of, of at, of on or in, and
often only a corruption of the prepofitive parti-
cle ge or y.
In words of French original it is
generally to be deduced from the Latin ab, ad,
and fometimes ex
A, interj. ah!
Abacke, adv. Sax. backwards
Abaiſt, part. pa. Fr. abaſhed, afhamed
Abate, v. Fr. to beat down
Abawed, part. pa. Fr. eſbai, aſtoniſhed; I was
abawed for marvelle. Orig. Moult m'eſbahy de
la merveille
Abegge, abeye, abic, v. Sax. to fuffer for
Abet, n. Sax. help
Abide, v. Sax. to ſtay
Abidden?
Abiden
} part. pa
Abit for abideth
Able, adj. Fr. fit, proper
Abote, part. pa. of abate
Abought, part. pa. of abegge
Abouten, prep. Sax. on-bucan, about
Abraide, v. Sax. to awake, to ftart. See Braidę
Abraide, pa. t. awaked, ſtarted.
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Abrede, adv. Sax. abroad
Abrege, v. Fr. to ſhorten, to abridge
Abroche, v. Fr. to tap, to ſet abroach; ſpoken of
a veffel of liquor
Abuſion, n. Fr. abuſe, impropriety
Acceffe, n. Fr. properly the approach of a fever, a
fever
Accidie, n. Fr. from Axndia, Gr. negligence; ari-
fing from difcontent, melancholy, &c.
Accord, n. Fr. agreement
Accord, v. Fr. to agree
Accordeden, pa. t. pl.
Accordant, 2
Accordant, part. pr.
According, S
Accufe, v. Fr. to diſcover
Achate, n. Fr. purchaſe
Achatour, a. Fr. a purchaſer, a caterer
Acheked, part. pa. Sax, choked
Acheve, v. Fr. to accomplish
Ackele, (akele) v. Sax. to cool
Acloye, v. may perhaps mean to cloy, to embarrafs
with fuperfluity
Acoiè, v. Fr. to make quiet
Acomberd, part pa. Fr. encombered
Acroke, udj. Fr. crooked, awkward.
Adawe, o. Sax. to awake
Ado, v. Sax. to do; it is ufed to exprefs the Fr.
â faire, to have ado; to have to do; and don all
that they han ado. Et facent ce qu'ils doivent faire.
Adon, (corruption of of-don) part. pa. Sax. done
away
Adon, pr. n. Adonis
Adoun, adv. Sax, downward
Adrad, adrade, part. pa. of adrede, v. Sax, afraid
Adriane for Ariadne, pr. n.
Advertence, ». Fr. attention
Advocacies, n. pl. Fr. law-fuits
Advocas, n. pl. Fr. lawyers, advocates
Afered, aferde, part. pa. Sax. afraid, frightened
Affecte, n. Lat. affection
Affermed, part. pa. Fr. confirmed
Affie, v. Fr. to truft
Affray, v. Fr. to affright
Affray, n. Fr. diſturbance, fear
Affriken, pr. n. the elder Scipio Africanus
Afile, v. Fr. to file, poliſh
Aforen, aforne, afore, adv. prép. Sax. æt-foran, be
forc.
670
GLOSSARY.
1
Again, prep. Sax. againſt, toward, adu
Agafte, v. Sax. to terrify
Agaft, for agafted, part.. pa. terrified
Agathon, pr. z. I have nothing to fay concerning
this writer, except that one of the fame name
is quoted in the prol. to the tragedie of Cam-
bifes, by Thomas Prefton. There is no ground
for fuppofing, with Gloff. Ur. that a philofo-
pher of Samos is meant, or any of the Agathoes
of antiquity
Ageins, prep. againſt
Agen, adv. again
Agilte, v. Sax. to offend, to fin againſt
Agilte, for agilted, pa. t. finned
Ago, agon, for ygon, part. pa. Sax. gone, paſt
Agree, Fr. à gré, in good part
Agrefe, (a'grefe) in grief
Agrege, v. Fr. to aggravate
Agreved, part. pa. Fr. injured, agrieved
Agrife, . Sax. to fhudder, to make to fhudder
Agroſe, pa. t. fhuddered, trembled
Agroted, part. pa. cloyed, furfeited; agrotone with
mete or drinke. Ingurgito. Prompt, parv.
Aguiler, n. Fr. a needle-cafe
Ajult, v. Fr. to apply
Akehorns, n. pl. Sax, acorns
Aknowe, part. pa. Sax. to ben aknowe; I am a-
knowe; acknowledge
I
Al, alle, adj. Sax. all; al and fom, the whole
thing, at al, in the whole; over all, through |
the whole; in alle manere wife, by every kind
of means; at alle rightes, with every thing re-
quifite
'Alain, pr. n. a poet and divine of the 12th century.
Befide his Plan&us Naturæ, or Plaint of Kinde,
which is here quoted, he wrote another poem
in Latin verſe, called Anticlaudianus. For the
For the
reft of his works fee Fabric. Bibl. Med, Æt. in v.
Alanus de Infulis
Alder, aller, gen. ca. pl. of all; it is frequently
joined in compofition with adjectives of the fu-
perl. deg. e. g. alderfirſt; alderlaſt; alderleveft;
firſt, laft, deareft of all
Al, all, adv. Sax. generally anfwers to the Lat.
omnino; al alone, quite alone; al hol, entire;
al holly, entirely; all in one, at the fame time;
all newe, anew; al only, folely, fingly. It is
fometimes uſed elliptically for although, or all
be it that; all tell I not now as now his obfer-
vances; all be ye not of o complexion
Alarged, part. pa. Fr. eſtargi, given largely
Alauns, ". pl. a fpecies of dog. They were much
efteemed in Italy in the 14th century. Gualv.
de la flamma, [ap. Murator. Antiq. Med. Æ. t.
11. p. 394,] commends the governors of Milan,
"quod equos emiffarics equabus magnis com-
"mifcuerunt, et procreati funt in noftro terri-
"torio Deftrarii nobiles, qui in magno pretio
"habentur. Item Canes Alanos altæ ftature et
"mirabilis fortitudinis nutrire ftuduerunt"
Alayne, n. Fr. allay, a mixture of baſe metal
Albification, n. Lat. a chemical term for making
white
[falt
Alcaly, n. Arab. a chemical term for a ſpecies of
Alchymiſre, n, Fr. alchymiſt
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Aldrian, pr. n. a ftar on the neck of the lion, Sp.
Ale and bred. This oath of Sire Thopas on ale
and bred was perhaps intended to ridicule the
folemn vows which were frequently made in
the days of chivalry to a peacock, a pheaſant,
or fome other noble bird. See M. de Sainte Fa-
laye, Sur l'anc. cheval. Mem. IlIme. I will add
here, from our own hiftory, a moft remarkable
inftance of this ftrange practice. When Ed-
ward I. was ſetting out upon his laſt expedition
to Scotland in 1306, he knighted his eldeſt ſon
and ſeveral other young noblemen with great
folemnity. At the clofe of the whole, (fays
Matthew of Weftminster, p. 454,) "Allati funt
"in pompaticâ gloria duo cygni vel olores ante
regem, phalerati retibus aureis vel fiftulis
deauratis, defiderabile fpectaculum intuenti.
"bus. Quibus vifis, Rex votum vovit Deo cæli et
cygnis fe proficifci in Scotiam, mortem Johan-
"nis Comynet fidem læfam Scotorum vivus
"five mortuus vindicaturus," &c. This prac-
tice is alluded to in Dunbar's with, that the king
were Jobne Thomſonnis man, ml. Maitland, ſt. 5.
mſ.
(C
r
I wold gif all that ever I have
To that condition, fo God me faif,
That ye had vorit to the fran
Ane yeir to be Johne Thomfonnis man.
And ſo in the Prol. to the Contin. of The Cant. T.
the Hofteler fays-I make a vowe to the pecock
ther fhall wake a foule miſt
Alege, n. Fr. to alleviate
Alegeance, n. Fr. alleviation
Aleis, n. Fr. alife, the lote tree
Alembikes, n. pl. Fr. veffels for diftilling, ftills
Ale-ftake, n. Sax. a fake fet up before an alehouſe
by way of fign
Aleye, n. Fr. an alley
Algates, Algate, ad. Sax. always; toutesfois
Algezir, pr. n. a city of Spain
Alight, a. Sux. to defcend; alight, pa. t. for
alighted
Alifandre, pr. n. Alexandria, a city in Egypt
Allege, v. Fr. to alledge
Almageft, pr. n. the Arabs, called the Mayaan
Euvrages of Ptolomee Almagesthi or Almegifthi,
a corruption of Meisn. See D'Herbelot, in v.
Almandres, . pl. Fr. almond trees
Almeffe, n. Sax. from the Lat. Gr. eleemofyna,
alms, Almeffes, pl.
Alnath, pr. n. the firſt ſtar in the horns of Aries,
whence the firſt manfion of the moon takes its
name, Sp.
Alonde, (a'londe) on land
Along, prep. Sax. whereon it was along, by what
it was occafioned; on me is nought along thine
evil fare, thy ill fare is not occafioned by me
Aloſed, part. pa. Fr. praiſed
Aloue, v. Fr. to allow, to approve, his dedes are
to alowe for his hardyneffe, therefore lorda
alow him litle, or lyften to his reafon
Alowe, adv. Sax, low
Alpes, n. pl. bulfinches
Als, conj. Sax. alfo, as
GLOSSARY.
675
Amalgaming, a chemical term for mixing of Appoſe, v. Fr. to object to, to queſtion. It ſeems
quickfilver with any metal
Ambaffatrie, n. Fr. embaſſy
Ambes as, two aces at dice, Fr.
Ambling, part. pr. Fr.
Amende, v. Fr. to mend
Approver, n. Fr. an informer
to be a corruption of oppoſe
Aprentiſe, n. pl. Fr. apprentices, novices
Amenufe, v Fr. to leffen
Ameved, part. pa. Fr. moved
Amias, pr. n. the city of Amiens
Amiddes, prep. Sax. at, or in the middle
Amis, adv. Sax. ill, badly. See Mis
Amonefte, v. Fr. to admoniſh, to adviſe
Among, adv. Sax. together, at the fame time, at
the fame place, Du. 298, ever among, ever at
the fame time, Conf. Am. 114, b.
Amonges, prep. Sax, among
Amorette, n. Fr. an amorous woman.-And eke
as well by [r. be] amorettes.-Car auſſi bien font
amourettes, orig..
Amorily, is perhaps put by miſtake før merrily.
Amortifed, part. pa. Fr. killed
Amorwe, on the morrow
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Aqueintable, adj. Fr. caly to be acquainted with
Aquite, v. Fr. to pay for
Arace, v. Fr. to draw away by force
Arande, n. Sax. a meffage
Araye, n. Fr. order, fituation, clothing, equipage
Araye, v. Fr. to drefs, to difpofe.
Arblaſters, n. pl. Fr. arbaleitres, engines to caft
darts, &c
Archangel, n. the herb fo called; a dead nettle,
Gloff. Ur.-In the orig. it is meſange, the bird
which we call a titmoufe
Archebiſhop, n. Sax. Lat. an archbishop
Archedeken, n. Sax. Lat. an archdeacon
Archediacre, n Fr. Archdeacon
Ardure, n. Fr. burning
Archewives, wives of a fuperior order
[fions
Arede, v. Sax, to interpret, Du. 289. See Reda
Areife, v. Sax. to raiſe
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Azerage, n Fr. arrear
Arefone, v. Fr. arraifoner, to reaſon with
Arefte, n. Fr. arreft, conſtraint, delay
Amphibologies, . pl. Fr. Gr. ambiguous expref-
An, for on, prep.
Ancille, n. Lat. a maid-fervant
Ancre, n. Fr. anchor
And, conj. Sax. if
Anclace, . a kind of knife or dagger,ufually worn at
the girdle. See Gloff. to M. Paris, in v. Analacius
Anes, adv. for ones, once
Anhang, v. Sux. to hang up
Anientiſſed, part. pa. Fr. reduced to nothing
Anight, in the night
Anker, n. Sav. an anchorite or hermit
Annueller, n. a priest employed folely in finging
annuals, or anniverſary maffes for the dead
Annunciat, part. pa. Lat. foretold
Anoie, n. Fr. hurt, trouble
Anoie, . to hurt, to trouble
Anoiful, adj. hurtful, unpleaſant
Antem, n. Sax. an anthem
Anticlaudian, the title of a Latin poem by Alanus
de Infulis. See Alain
Antilegius, pr. n. Antilochus, Du. 1064. [anthems
Antiphonere, n. Lat. Gr. a book of antiphones or
Anvelt, n, Sax. an anvil, Du. 1165.
Any, adj. Sax. either, one of two. It uſually figni-
fies one of many
Apaid, part. pa. Fr. paid, fatisfied
Apaire, v. Fr. See Apeire
Ape, n. Sax. metaphorically a fool, the monke put
in the mannes hode an ape, and in his wife's
eke, the monk made a fool of the man and of
his wife too-Win of ape.
Apeire, v. Fr. to impair, to detract from; our
ftate it apcires-to be impaired, to go to ruin.
Apert, adj. Fr. open, prive and apert, in private
and in public
Apies, for opies, n. pl. Fr. opiates
Appalled, part. pa. Fr. made pale
Apparaile, v. Fr. to prepare
Apparence, n. Fr. an appearance
Apperceive, v. Fr. to perceive
Apperceivings, n. pl. perceptions
Appetite, v. Fr. to defire, to covęt
|
Arefte, v. Fr. to ftop
Arette, v. Fr. to impute to
Argoil, n. Fr. potters clay
Ariete, pr. n. Aries, one of the figns in the zodiac
Ariſtotle, pr. z. a treatiſe on perſpective under his
name is mentioned by Vincent of Beauvais in
the 13th century, Spec. Hiflor. I. iii. c. 84, Extat
etiam liber, qui dicitur, Perspectiva Ariftotelis
Arivage, n. Fr. as arivaile
Arivaile, n. Fr. arrival
Ark, n. Lat. a part of the circumference of a circle
Arme, 7. may perhaps be put for defence, fecurity
Arm-grete, adj. Sax, as thick as a man's arm
Armipotent, adj. Lat. mighty in arms
Armles, adj. Sax, without an arm
Armorike, pr. n. Baffe Bretagne in France, called
anciently Britannia Armorica
Armure, n. Fr. armour
Arn, pl. n. of am, v. Sax. are
Arnolde of the newe town, pr. z. of a phyſician
and chemiſt of the 13th century. See Fabric.
Bibl. Med. Æt. in v. Arnaldus Pillanovanus
Aroume, feems to fignify at large; arowme, or
more utter, remote. deprope. feorfum. Prompt.
Parv.
[ceffively
A'row, in a row, probably from the Fr. rue, fuc-
Arſmetrike, n. Lat. arithmetic
| Arte, v. Lat. to conſtrain
Artelries, n. pl. Fr. artillery
[fay
As, adv. Sax. allo; omnino fic. As faft, very faſt;
as fwith, very quickly, immediately
Afcaunce, afkow, afide, fideways;-as if, as if to
Afhen, n. pl. Sax. afhes
Aflake, v. Sax. to flacken, to abate
Aſpe, n. Sax, a fort of poplar
Afpen, adj. of an afp
Afpie, v. Fr. to efpy
Afpre, adj. Fr. rough, fharp
Afpreneffe, . fharpnefs
Affaut, n. Fr. affault
5
672
LOSSAR Y.
Affege, n. Fr. fiege
Affeth, n. Fr. fufficient, enough
Affife, n. Fr fituation.
Affoile, v. Fr. to abfolve, to anſwer, affoileth, imp.
m. 2d perf. pl.
Affomoned, part. pa, ſummoned
Affure, v. Fr. to confide
Aſterte, v. Sax. to eſcape, to releaſe; aſterte for
afterted, part. pa.
Aſtoned, aſtonied, part. pa. Fr. confounded, afto-
niſhed
Aftrelabre, n. Fr. aſtrolabe
Aftrologien, n. Fr. aftrologer
Afweved, part. pa. Sax. ftupified, as in a dream
Afwone, in a fwoon
At, atte, prep. Sax. at after fouper, as foon as fup-
per was finished; at day, at break of day; at
on, of one mind
Atake, v. Sax. to overtake-for ataken, part. pa.
A'thre, in three parts
Attamed, part. pa. Fr. entamé, opened, begun,
tafted, felt, difgraced
Attempre, adj. Fr. temperate
Attemprely, adv. Fr. temperately
Attour, n. Fr. head-drefs
Attry, atterly, adj. Sax. poiſonous, pernicious
A'twinne, a'two; in two, afunder
Avale, v. Fr. to lower, to let down, to fall down
Avance, v. Fr. to advance, to profit
Avant, n. Fr. boast
Avantage, n. Fr. advantage
Avante, v. Fr. to boaſt
Avaunt, adv. Fr. forward
Auctoritee, n. Lat. a text of Scripture or of fome
refpectable writer
Au&tour, n. Lat. a writer of credit
Avenaunt, adj. Fr. becoming
Aventaile, n. Fr. the fore part of the armour Sk.
the aperture for breathing in a helmet
Aventure, n. Fr. adventure
Averrois, pr. n. Ebn Roſchd, an Arabian phyfician
of the 12th century. See D'Herbelat in v.
Rofchd.
Avicen, pr. n. Ebn Sina, an Arabian phyſician of
the 10th century. See D'Herbelot in v. Sina
Aught, n. Sax. any thing. It is fometimes ufed as
an adverb; if that the childes mother were
aught fhe, can he ought tell a merry tale or
tweie?
Aught, pa. t. of owe, as ought
Aught-where, adv. Sax. any where
Augrim, a corruption of Algorithm
Auntrous, adj. adventurous
Aurora, the title of a Latin metrical verfion of
feveral parts of the Bible by Petrus de Riga,
Calon of Rheims, in the 12th century. Leyſer,
in his Hift. Poet. Med. Ævi. p. 692—736, has
given large extracts from this work, and among
others the paffage which Chaucer feems to have
had in his eye
Aure Jebal varios ferramenti notat ictus.
Pondera l'brat in his. Con fona quæque facit.
Hoc inventa modo prius eft ars mufica, quam-
vis
Pythagoram dicant hanc docuiffe prius.
Avouterer, avouter, n. Fr. an adulterer
Avouterie, avoutrie, z. adultery
Avow, n. Fr. vow
Auter, n. Fr. altar
Awaite, n. Fr. watch
Awaiting, part. pr. keeping watch
Awaped, part. pa. Sax. confounded, ſtupified
Awayward, adv. Sax. away
Awreke, v. Sax. to revenge
Axe, v. Sax. to aſk
Axing, ". requeſt
Ay, adv. Sax. ever
Ayel, n. Fr. grandfather
Ayen, adv. and prep. again
Ayenſt, prep. againſt
Ayenward, adv. Sax, back
B
Ba, v. feems to be formed from baffe, v. Fr. to kifa
Bacheler, n. Fr. an unmarried man, a knight, one
who has taken his first degree in an univerſity
Bachelerie, n. Fr. knighthood, the bachelerie, the
knight
Bade, pu. t. of bede
Badder, comp. d. of bad, adj. Sax, worfe
Bagge, v. to fwell, to diſdain, Sk.; rather perhaps
to fquint
Baggingly, adv. feems to be the tranflation of er
lorgnoyant, fquintingly
Baillie, n. Fr. cuftody, government
Baite, v. Sax. to feed, to top to feed
Balance, n. Fr. doubt, ſuſpenſe, I dare lay in
balance all that I have, I dare wager all that
I have
Bale, n. Sax. mifchief, forrow
Augrim ftones, the pebbles or counters which Bales, r. balais, pr. n. Fr. a fort of baſtard ruby
were anciently uſed in numeration
Avis, n. Fr. adviſe
Aviland, part. pr. obferving
Avife, v. Fr. to obferve; avifeth you, imp. m. 2d
perf. pl. ; look to yourſelves, take care of your-
felves
Avifion, n. Fr. vifion
Aumble, n. Fr. au ambling pace
Auniener, n. Fr. aumoniere, a purfe
Aumere, n. aumere of filke, bourſe de foy, orig. It
fecms to be a corruption of aumener.
Auntre, v. Fr. corruption of aventure, to adven.
[ture
Balkes, n. pl. Sax the timbers of the roof
Balled, adj. fmooth as a ball, bald
Bandon, . Fr. See Du Cange in v. Abandons. Ta
her bandon, to her difpofal; a fon bandon,
orig.
Bane, л. Sax. deftruation
Barbe, . a hood or muffler which covered the
lower part of the face and the ſhoulders. See
Du Cange in v. Barbuta
Baren, pa. t. pl. of bere, v. Sax. bore
Bargaine,
Bargaine, n. Fr. contention
Bargaret, a. Fr. bergerette, a ſort of ſong
5
GLOSSARY.
673
Barme, n. Sax. the lap
Barme-cloth, an apron
Barre, n. Fr. a bar of a door, a ftripe
Barreine, adj. Sax. barren
Bafilicok, n. a. a bafilifk
Baffe, n. Fr. a kiſs
Bafting, part. pr. fewing flightly
Batailed, part. pa. Fr. embattled
Bathe, for bothe
Bathe, v. Sax. we ſhould rather ſay to baſk
Baude, adj. Fr. joyous
Bauderie, baudrie, n. pimping, keeping a bawdy-
houfe
Baudy, adj. dirty, with baudy cote, Lydg. Tra. b.
ix. f. 26. b.
Bayard, pr. n. Fr. originally a bay horſe; a horſe
in general
Bay-window, a large window, probably fo called,
becauſe it occupied a whole bay, i. e. the ſpace
between two crossbeams
Be, prep. Sax. by
Be, for been, part. pa. Sax.
Beau Semblant, Fr. fair appearance
Beau Sire, Fr. fair Sir, a mode of addrefs
Bebledde, part. pa. Sax. covered with blood
Beblotte, v. Sax. to ſtain
Becke, v. Fr. to nod
Beclappe, v. Sax. to catch
Bedaffed, part. pa. Sax. made a fool of. See Daffe
Bede, v. Sax. to order, to bid, to offer, to pray; to
bede his necke, to offer his neck for execution
Bedote, v. Sax. to make to dote, to deceive.
Dote
Dedrede, adj. Sax. confined to bed
See
Bedreinte, part. pa. drenched, thoroughly wetted
Been, n. pl. Sax. bees
Befill, for befell, pa. t. of befall, v. Sax
Beforen, beforne, adv. and prep. Sax. before
Begiled, part. pa. Fr. beguiled
Begon, part. pa. of bego, v Sax. gone; wel begon,
v Sax. gone; wel begon,
in a good way; wo begon, far gone in wo;
worſe begon, in a worſe way; with gold begon,
painted over with gold, à or paintes, orig.
Begonne, part. pa. of beginne, v Jax, begun
Behalve, n. Sax. half, fide or part
Behefte, n. Sax, to promiſe
Behete, v. Sax. to promife
Behewe, part. pa. Sax. coloured. See Hewe
Behighte, v. Sax. promife
Behighte, part. pa. promiſed
Benighten, pa. t. pl. promiſed
Behove, a. Sax, behoof, advantage
Bejaped, part. pa. Sa tricked, laughed at
Beknowne, v. Sax, to confefs
Bellamy, Fr. good friend
Beleve, n. Lax. belief; his beleve, his creed
Belle, adj. fem. Fr. fair
Belle, v. sax. to roar
Belle chere, Fr. good cheer
Belle Ifaude, F. iii. 707, the fair Ifaude, the mif-
treſs of Triſtan; fhe is called Ifoude
Belous, n. Sax. bellows
Bemes, n. pl. Sax. trumpets
|
|
Benched, part. pa. furniſhed with benches
Bende, n. Fr. a band or horizontal ſtripe
Bending, . ftriping, making of bands or ftripes
Bene, n. ar. a bean, and al n'as wurth a bene
Benedicite! at an exclamation, anfwering to our
bleſs us! it was often pronounced as a triſyllable;
Bencite!
Benigne, adj. Fr. kind
Benime, v. Sax. to take away
Benifon, n. Fr. benediction
Benomen, part. pa. of benime, taken away
Bent, n. Sax. the bending or declivity of a hill
Berained, part. pa. Sax. rained upon
n.
Berde, . Lax. beard; to make any one's berde, to
cheat him.
Bere, n. Sax. a bear
Bere, v. Sax. to bear, to carry; to bere in or on
hand, to accuſe falfely, to perfuade falfely; to
bere the belle, to carry the prize
Bere, n. Sax. a bier, a pillowbear
Bering, n. Sax. behaviour
Berme, n. Sax. yeft
Bernard, pr. n. L. W. 16. St. Bernard, Abbot of
Clairvaux in the 12th century. Our author al-
ludes to a proverbial faying concerning him,
Bernardus ipfe non vidit omnia. See Hoffman
in v.
Bernard, pr. z. a phyfician of Montpelier in the
13th century
Berne, n. Sar. a barm
Befant, n. Fr. a piece of geld, fo called becauſe firſt
coined at Byzantium, now Conftantinople, Sk.
Befeke, v. Sax, to befeech
Befet, befette, part. pa Sax. placed, employed
Befey, part. pa. of befee, v. dar. beleen; evil be-
fey, ill-befeen, of a bad appearance; richly befey,
of a rich appearance
Befhet, part. pa. Sax. fhut up.
Behrewe, v. Sax, to curie
Befide, prep. Sax. by the ſide of
Beſmotred, part. pa. Sax. fmutted
Belpet, part, pa. Sax. ſpit upon
Beftadde, beitad, part. pa. Sax. fituated; it is
fometimes uſed in an ill fenfe for diftreffed
Befte, n. Fr. a beaſt
Befty, adj. fup. Sax, beſt
Bely. adj. Sax. buſy
Bet, bette, adv. comp. for better
Betake, v. Sax. to give, to recommend to
Betaught, pa. t. recommended to
Bete, a. Jax, to prepare, make ready; to bete
fires, to make fires-to mend, to heal; to bete
nettes, to mend nets; to bete forwe, to heal
forrow
Bete, . Fr. to beat
Beteeche, v. as betake
Beth, imp. m 2d perf. pl. Sax. be ye
Betid, betidde, pa. t. et part. of betide, v. Sax. hap-
pened
Betoke, pa. t. of betake, recommended
Betrailed, part. pa. Fr. betrayed; thei have be-
traifed thee
Betwix, betwixen, prep. Sax. between
Bèn, inf. m. Sax. to be, pr. t. pl. are, part. pa. | Bewepe, v. Sax. to weep over
been
VOL.
Bewrey, bewrie, r. Sux. to difcover
U u
t
;
644
GLOSSARY.
Beye, v. Sax. to buy. See Abeye
Beyete, part. pa. Sax begotten
Bialacoil, pr. n. Fr. Bel-accueil, courteous recep-
tion
Bibbed, part pa. Lat. drunk
Bible, nr. any great book
Bicchel bones, uſed in playing a particular kind
of game of hazard
Bidde, v. as bede
Bie, v. ax to fuffer.
See Abeye
Bigine, pr. n Fr. Beguine, a nun of a certain or-
der. See Du Cange in v. Beghina
Biker, n
av. a quarrel
Bode, pa. t. of bide, v. Sax, remained
Bode, n. Sax. a ſtay or delay, an omen
Bodekin, n. Sax, a dagger
Boece, pr. n. Boethius. His most popular work,
De Confolatione Philofophie, was tranflated by
Chaucer certainly before 1381, and probably
much earlier; the reflections on predeftination
(of which there is no trace in the Filoftrato
are almoſt entirely taken from Bo. v. pr. 3.
Boifte, n. Fr. a box
Boiftous, adj. Sax. boisterous, rough,
Boiftoufly adv. roughly
Bokeler, n. Fr. a buckler
Bilder, n. Sax a builder; the bilder oke, the oak | Bokeling, part pr. Fr. buckling
ufed in building
Bill, a letter
72
Bimene, v. Sax. to bemoan
Bint, for bindeth
Birde for bride, n. Saxhir chere was fimple
as birde in bour, i. e as bride in chamber-
fimpl fut comme une efponfee, orig.
Bifmare, n. ax abufive fpeech; and bold, and
abiding, bilmares to fuffer
Bit, for bidderh
Bitore, n. 'ra bittern
Bitrent, part. pa. twisted, carried round; perhaps
from the Sax, circumdare
Biwopen, part. pa. of bewepe, drowned in tears.
Blancmanger, n. Fr. feems to have been a very
different difh in the time of Chaucer, from that
which is now called by the fame name. There
is a receipt for making it in mf. Harl. one of
the ingredients is the brawne of a capon teafed
fmall
Blandife, v. Fr. to flatter
Blanche fevere. See Cotgrave in v. Fievres blanches;
the agues wherewith maidens that have the
greenfickness are troubled; and hence il a les
fieres blanches, either he is in love or fick of
wantonnefs
Ble, n. Sax. colour
Blee, pr. n. a forest in Kent. Ur.
Bleine, n. Sax. a puftule
Blend, v. Sax. to blind, to deceive
Blend, pa. t. of blend
Blent, pa. t. of blenche, v. Sax. fhrinked, flarted, afide
Blered, part pa. Fax. in its literal fenfe is uſed to
defcribe a particular diforder of the eye, attend-
ed with forenefs and dimnefs of fight; but
more commonly, in Chaucer, a man's eye is
faid to be blered, metaphorically, when he is
any way impofed upon
Bleve, v. Sax. to flay
Blin, v Sac. to cease
Bliffe, v. ax. to blefs
Blive, belive, adv. Sax. quickly
Bloſme, a. Sax, bloffom, v. to bloſſom
Bkofmy, adj. full of bloffoms
Bob-up-and down, pr. n. of a town in the road to
Canterbury it is not marked in the common
maps
Bobance, . Fr. boafling
Boche, n Fr. hoffe, a fwelling, a win or boil
Bude, boden, part. pa. of bede, v. Sax. bidden,
commanded
Boket, n. Sax. a bucket
Bolas, n. bullace, a fort of plumb or floe
Bole armoniac, Armenian earth Fr. Gr.
Bollen, part pa. of bodge, v. Sax. fwolten
Bolt, n. Sax. an arrow, bolt-upright, ftraight as
an arrow
Bone, n. Sax a boon, petition, he bade hem all a
bone, he made a requeſt to them all.
Boras, n. Fr. borax
Bord, n. Fr. a border; the fide of a ſhip; over
bord
Borde, n. Sax, a table
Bordel, n. Fr. a brothel-bordel-women, whores
Bordellers, n. pl. keepers of bawdyhouſes
Borel, n. Fr. bureau, coarfe cloth of a brown co-
lour. See Du Cange in v. Burellus
Borel, adj. made of plain coarfe ftuff-borel folk,
borel men, laymen.
Borwe, n. Sax. a pledge; hath laid to borwe;
hath pledged; have here my feith to borwe;
have here my faith for a pledge; Seint John to
borwe; St. John being my fecurity.
Bofard, n. Fr. a buzzard, a fpecies of hawk unfit
for ſporting
Boffe, n. Fr. a protuberance
Boft, n. Sax. pride, boaſting
Boft, ado. aloud; he cracked boft
Bote, n. Sax. remedy, help, profit
Bote, v. Sax. to help
Bote, pa t. of bite, v. Sax. bit
Botelcs, adj. Fax. bootlefs, remedilefs
Botel, bottelle, n. Fr. bottle
Boterflie, n. Sax. a butterfly
Bothe, adj. Sax. two together; our bothe labour,
the labour of us two together; noftrum ambo-
rum labor
Bothe, conj. is generally ufed to copulate twe
members of a fentence, but fometimes more.
And rent adoun bothe wall, and rafter-
To whom bothe heven, and erthe, and fee,
is fene.
So the Greeks fometimes ufed Aupõlepov. Od. O. 78.
Αμφότερον κύδος τε και αγλαίη, και ονειας.
Bothum, z. ir. bouton, a bud, particularly of a roſe
Bougeron, n Fr. a Sodomite
Boughton-under-blee, pr. n. of a town in Kent'
Bouke, n. Sax. the body
-
Boulte, Cax. to fift, to feparate the flour of
wheat from the bran
1
1
GLOSSARY.
675
Boun, adj. Sax. ready; and bade hem all to be Brocage, n. a treaty by a broker or agent
bowne
Bountee, n. Fr. goodneſs
Bourde, n. Fr. a jeſt,
Bourde, v. Fr. to jeſt.
Bourdon, n. Fr. a ſtaff,
Boure, n. Sax. a houſe, a chamber
Bowe, n. Sax. a bow; a dogge for the bowe; a
dog uſed in ſhooting.
Boxe, n. a blow
Bracer, n. Fr. armour for the arm
Bradwardin, pr. n. Thomas Bradwardine, Arch-
bishop of Canterbury in 1349. His book De
Caufa Dei, to which our author alludes, is in
print. See Tanner in v. Bradowardinus
Braide, *. Sax. a ſtart
See Abraide.
See Abraide.
Braide, v. Sax. to awake, to ftart.
Out of his wit he braide, he ran out of his fen-
fes; to take off
Braket, n. Brit. bragod, a fweet drink made of
the wort of ale, honey, and fpice: it is ftill in
ufe in Wales. Richards in v. Bragod
Brafil, n. a wood ufed in dying to give a red co-
lour. See Huetiana, p. 268. In the invento-
ry of the effects of Henry V. Rot. Parl. H.
VI. m. 20, is the following article, 11 Graundes
peces du Bracile, pris vis. vid.
Bratt, n. Sax. a coarſe mantle
Brech, n. Sax. breeches
Brede, n. Sax. breadth; in brede, abroad
Breme, adj. Sax. furious
Brenne, v. Sax. to burn-Brent, pa. t. & part.
burnt
Brenningly, adv. Sax. hotly
Breres, n. pl. Fr. briars
Brefte, v. Sax. to burſt
Bret-ful, adj. the fenfe is much more clear than the
etymology.
Broche, originally the tongue of a buckle or clafp;
and from thence the buckle or claſp itſelf.
Broided, part. pa. Fr. braided, woven
Brokking, part. pr. throbbing, quavering
Bromeholme, pr. n. a priory in Norfolk
Bronde, n. Fr. a torch
Broften, part. pa. of brefte
Brotel, adj. Sax. brittle
Broteineffe, n. brittleneſſe
Brotherhed, n. Sax. brotherly affection
Brouded, part. pa. Fr. brodé embroidered
Brouken, inf. m. Sax. to brook, enjoy, uſe
Buckes horne, a buck's horn; to blow the buckeé
horne is put for any uſeleſs employment.
Buffette, n. Fr. a blow
Bugle-horn, n. a drinking veffel made of horn.
Gloff. Ur. derives it from bucule cornu; the
gloff. to Anc. Scott. Po. explains bowgle to
mean a buffalo. I have been told that in fome
parts of the north a bull is now called a boogle.
Bumble, v. Sax, to make a humming noiſe; it is
ufed to defcribe the noife made by a bittern
Burdoun, n. Fr. bourden, a humming noife, the
bafs in mufick
Buriels, n. pl. Sar. burying places
Burned, part. pa. Fr. burniſhed
Burnel the affe. The ftory fuppofes that the
prieft's fon, when he was to be ordained, di-
rected his fervant to call him at cockcrowing,
and that the cock whofe leg he had formerly
broken having overheard this, purpofely re-
frained from crowing at his uſual time, by
which artifice the young man was füffered to
fleep till the ordination was over,
Burnette, n. Fr. brunette, cloth dyed of a brown co-
lour. See Du Cange in v. Burnetum,
Bufk, a buſh
I ne'ere but loft, non effem nis perdite-onlys
which that am but lorne.
Bribe, n. Fr. properly what is given to a beggar; | Butte, but, adv. & conj. Sax. but, fed—unleſs, nifi,
what is given to an extortioner or cheat,
Briben, inf. m. Fr. to beg, or perhaps to fteal.-
See Rot. Parl. 22 E. IV. n. 30, have ſtolen and
bribed fignetts, (cygnets.) And fo in P. P.
115, b. a bribour feems to fignify a thief, as
bribors, pilors, and pikeharneis, are claffed to-
gether; and ftill more plainly in Lydg. Tra.
1525
Who faveth a thefe whan the rope is knet-
With fome fafe turne the bribour will him
quite.
See alfo ancient Scottish Poems, p. 171, ft. vii. 1. 3
Briboures. Upon fecond thoughts I believe that
I was wrong in adopting this word from mf. C.
I, and that we fhould rather read, with other
mff.;
Certaine he knew of briberies mo.
Bridale, n. Sax. a marriage fcaft
Briddes, n. pl. Sax. birds
Brige, n. Fr. contention
Brike, n. Sax. breach, ruin
But, prep. Sax. without, gloff. Ur. I cannot fay
that I have myfelf obferved this prepofition in
Chaucer, but I may have overlooked it. The
Saxons uſed it very frequently, and how long
the Scottish writers have laid it afide I am
doubtful. It occurs repeatedly in Ep. Douglas;
but ſpot or fault, p. 3 1. 53; poetė but pere, p.
9. 1. 19; but and ben, p. 123, 1. 40, without
and within; but an and binnan, originally, I fup-
poſe, bi utan and bi innan. By and with are of-
tep fynonymous:
Buxome, adj. Sar obedient, civil
Buxumly, adv. Sax. obediently
By, prep. Sax. has fometimes the fignification of
in; by the morwe, in the morning or daytime;
by his life, in his lifetime. It is fometimes uſed
adverbially; by and by, near hard by.—By and
by, figillatim, Prompt. Pare. thefe were his
wordes by and by, i. e. feverally, diftin&ly;
and fo perhaps this phrafe fhould be underſtoc
in the paffages above quoted.
Byforne. See Beforne
Byleve, v. Sax, to ſtay
!
Brimme, adj. See Breme
676
GLOSSARY
Byraft, part. pa. of byreve, v. Sax. bereeved, taken | Caught, pa. t. & part. of catch
away
Byword, n. Sax. a proverb
Cacché, v. to catch
C.
Cadence, n. Fr. a fpecies of poetical compofition
Cairrud, pr. n. of a city in Bretagne
Caitif, n. & adj. Fr. chetif, a wretch, wretched
Calcination, n. Fr. a chemical procefs by which
bodies are reduced to a calx
Calculed, pa. t. Fr. calculated
Caleweis, probably miſwritten; the original has
la poire du caillonel. Cotgrave fays that caillouët
is the name of a very fweet pear
Calidone, pr. n. it ſhould be Lacedomie
Caliophia, pr. n.
We ſhould rather read Calypfa,
with the two Bodl. mff. for Calypfo.
Calle, n. Fr. a ſpecies of cap
Camaille, n. Fr. a camel
Cameline, n. Fr. a ftuff made of camel's hair
Camufe, adj. Fr. flat
Can, v. Sax. to know. See Conne
Cananée adj. Fr. Cananean
Cane, pr. n. Cana in Galilee
Canelle, n. Fr. cinnamon
Canel, n. Fr. canal, channel
Canevas, n. Fr. canvas
Cavilatioun, n. Fr. cavil
Cecile, Cecilie, pr. n. Cecilia
Ceife, cefe, are miſprinted for ſeiſe, v. Fr. to ſeize,
to lay hold of.
Celerer, n. Lat. Celeyarius, the officer in a mona-
ftery who had the care of the proviſions
Celle, n. Lat a religious houſe, it ſeems to be put
for a man's head
Cellitude, n. Fr. highneſs
Cenfer, n. Fr. an incenfe pot
Cenfing, part, pr. Fr. fumigating with incenfe
Centaurie, pr. 1. of an herb
Cercle, v. Fr. to furround
Cercles, n. pl. Fr. circles
Cerial, adj. Fr. belonging to the fpecies of oak cal-
led cerrus, Lat. cerra, Ital. cerre
Certain, adj. Fr. is uſed fometimes as a ſubſtantive;
of unces a certain, a certain of gold, i. e. a cer-
tain number of ounces, a certain quantity of gold
Certain, certes, adv. certainly
Cerufe, n. Fr. whitelead
Cefed, part. pa, for feifed, is ufed in a legal fenſe;
to that he be cefed therwith, till that he be
poffeffed thereof, till he have feifin thereof
Ceffe, v. Fr. to ceaſe
Chace, v. Fr. to chafe, to purfue,
Chafe, v. Fr. to grow warm or angry
Chaffare, n. Sax. merchandiſe
Chaffare, v. Sax. to merchandiſe
Canon, the title of Avicenne's great work. See Chaire, n. Fr. a chair; the chair or pulpit of a
D'Herbelet in v. Canun
Cantel, n. Sax. a fragment
Capel, .n. Lat. a horfe
Capitaine, n. Fr. a captain
Capitolie, n. Lat. the Capitol at Rome
Cappe, n. Lat. a carp or hood; to fet a man's cap,
to make a fool of him.
Captif, adj. Fr. captive
Cardiacle, n. Fr. Gr. a pain about the heart
Careces, a. pl. Lat. Gr. characters
Carfe, pa. t. of carve, v. Sax. cut
Carle, n. Sax. a churl, a hardy country fellow
Carmes, n. pl. Fr. Carmelite friars
Carole, n. Fr. a fort of dance
Carole, v. Fr. to dance, in caroling, in dancing
Carpe, v. to talk; by carping of tonge, by ſpeech
Carraine, n. Fr. a carrion, dead or putrified fleſh
Carrike, n. Fr. a large fhip
Carte, n. Say. a chariot
Carter, n. Sax. a charioteer
Cas, n. Fr. cas, chance, upon cas, by chance
Cas, n. Fr. caffe, a cafe, quiver
Caffiodore, pr. n. Caffiodorus, a Roman ſenator and
conful, feveral of his works are extant. See
Fabric. Bibl. Lat, and Bibl. Med. Et.
Caft, n. Sax. a contrivance
Cafte, v. to throw, to contrive
Cafteloigne, pr. n. Catelonia in Spain
Cafuel, adj. Fr. accidental
Catapuce, n. Fr. a fpecies of fpurge
Catel, n. Fr. goods, valuable things of all forts
Caterwawed. To gon a caterwawed feems to fig-
nify the fame as to go a caterwawing, or cater-
wawling, as it has been called by later writers.
profeffor or preacher.
Chalons, blankets, or coverlets, probably fo called
from being made at Chalons
Chamberere, n. Fr. a chambermaid
Champartie, . Fr. a fhare of land, a partnerſhip
in power. Lydgate has the fame expreffion,
Tra. 139, b. viii. 17.
Clantepleure, n. Fr. a fort of proverbial expreffion
for finging and weeping fucceffively. See
Lydg. Tra. ftan. the laft, where he fays that
his book is
Lyke chantepleure, now finging now weping.
In mf. Harl. 4333, is a ballad which turns upon
this expreffion : it begins Moult vaut mieux
pleure chante que ne fait chante pleure
Chanterie, n. Fr. an endowment for the payment
of a priest to fing mafs agreeably to the ap-
pointment of the founder. There were thirty-
five of theſe chanteries eſtabliſhed at St. Paul's,
which were ferved by fifty-four pricfts, Dugd.
Hift. pref. p. 41.
Chapman, n. Sav. a merchant or trader
Chapmanbede, n. Sax. the condition of a chap-
man or tradefman
Char. n. Fr. a chariot
Charboucle, n. Fr. a carbuncle
Charge, n. Fr. a load, burthen, buſineſs of weight;
it n'ere no charge; it were no harm: of which
there is no charge, from which there is no con-
fequence to be expected; of that no charge, no
matter for that
Charge, v. Fr. to weigh, to incline on account of
GLOSSARY.
677
weight-which chargeth not to fay, which it | Chirche, n. Sax, a church
is of no importance to ſay
Chargeant, part. pr. burthenfome
Charmereffe, n. Fr. an enchantress
Chirchereve, n. Sax. a churchwarden
Chirchhawe, 1. Sax. a churchyard
Chirk, v. Sax. to chirp as a fparrow
Chaſtelaine, n. Fr. the wife of a chaſtelain or lord | Chirking, n. a difagreeable found
of a caftle
Chaftie, v. Fr. to chaftife
Chaunteclere, pr. n. of a cock
Checkere, n. Fr. a chefsboard
Chees, pa. t. of chefe, v. Sax. chofe
Cheffis, we fhould read chefes. The orig. has
fromages
Cheke, a term at chefs, to give notice to the op-
poſite party that his king, if not removed cr
guarded by the interpofition of fome other
piece, will be made prifoner: it is derived ori-
ginally from the Perſian bab, i. e. king, and
• means, take care of your king. See Hyde, Hift.
Shabilud, p. 3, 4.
Chekelatoun; a robe of ſtate
Chekemate, or fimply mate, is a term ufed at chefs
when the king is actually made prifoner, and
the game confequently finiſhed. The Perfian
phrafe is fab mát, i. e. the king is conquered.
See Hyde, Hift. Shahilud, p. 15Z
Chelaundre, n. Fr. a goldfinch
Chepe,. Sax. to cheapen, to buy
Chepe, #. cheapneſs
Chepe, pr. n. Cheapfide in London
Cherche, n. Sax. a church
ment, good cheer
Cherice, v. Fr. to cheriſh
Cherifance, n. Fr. comfort
Chit, for chideth
Chivachee, z. as chevachie
Chiver, v. Sax. to fhiver
Cierges, n. pl. Fr. wax tapers
Cipioun, pr. n. Scipio
Cipris, pr. n. Venus
Circes, fr. a. for Circe
Citee, n. Fr. a city
Citole, n. Fr. a mufical inftrument. Sir John
Hawkins, in his very curious Hift. of Mu-
fick, v. ii. p. 106, n. fuppoſes it to have been a
fort of dulcimer, and that the name is a corrup-
tion of the Lat. ciftella. Befide the paffage
which he has quoted from Gower, Conf. Am.
178, it is mentioned again in fol. 189, among
the inftruments which fowned lowe. See alfo
Du Cange in v. Citola, and M. de la Ravaliere,
Forfies du Roy de Navarre, t. i. p. 248.
Citrin, adj. Fr. of a pale yellow or citron colour
Citrination, n. a chymical term.
Arnoldus in Ro-
fario, mf. l. i. c 5; "Citrinacio nihil aliud eft
quam completa albedinis digeftio, nec albedo
"eft aliud quam nigredinis ablatio." Gloff.
Carpent. in v.
Clamben, pa. t. pl. of climb, v. Sax.
Chere, n. Fr. countenance, appearance, entertain- Clapers, n. pl. Fr. rabbit-burrows,
Clappe, v. Sax. to knock repeatedly, to talk faſt
Clapping, n. noify talking
Clapfed, clafped
Cherl, n. Sax. a man of mean birth and condi- Clarré, n. Fr. wine mixed with honey and fpices,
tion
Cherifk, adj. illiberal
Ches, n. Fr. the game of chefs
Chefe, . Sax. to chooſe
Chefe, for chefeth
Chefte, n. Lat. a coffin
Chefte, n. debate
Chefteine, n. Fr. the chefnut tree, the chefnut
fruit
Chevachie, n. Fr. an expedition
Chevalrie, n. Fr. knighthood, the manners, exer-
cifes, and valiant exploits, of a knight
Chevalrous, adj. valiant
Cheve, v. Fr. to come to an agreement or con-
clufion; yvel mote he cheve, ill may he end
Chevefaile, n. Fr. a necklace
Chevetain, n. Fr. chieftain
and afterwards ftrained till it is clear; it was
otherwife called piment, as appears from the
title of the following receipt in the Medulla
Cirurgie Rolandi, mff. Bodl. 761, fol. 86; " Cla-
retum bonum, five pigmentum.-Accipe nu-
cem moſchatam, cariofilos, gingebas, macis,
cinamomum, galangum; quæ omnia in pul-
verem redacta diftempera cum bono cum
"tertiâ parte mellis; poft cola per facculum,
et da ad bibendum. Et nota, quod illiud
"item poteft fieri de cercvifiâ,"
Clatternden, pa. t. pl. of clatter, v. Sax.
Clanfe, n. Fr. an end or conclufion
Claw, v. Sax. to ftroke, he clawed him on the back,
he ſtroked him on the back to encourage him;
to claw on the gall, fignifies the fame as to rub
on a fore place
Chevifance, n. Fr. an agreement for borrowing of Cled, for clad
money
Chiche, adj. Fr. niggardly, fparing
Chidereffe, n. Sax. a female icold
Chidefter, . Sax. a female fcold
Chiertee, n. Fr. tenderneſs, affection
Chike, n. Sar. a chicken
Chimbe, n. Sax. the prominent part of the ftaves
beyond the head of a barrel
Chimbe, . to found in confonance like bells
Chimeny, n. Fr. a chimney
Chinche, adj. as chiche
Chincherie, n. niggerdlines
Cleneffe, n. Sax. purity
Clepe, o. Sav. to call, to name
Clergie, n. Fr. the clerical profeflion
Clergial, adj. learned
Clergion, n. a young clerk
Clerk, n. Fr. a perfon in holy orders, a man of
learning, a ftudent at the univerſity
Cleves, n. pl. Sax, rocks,
Cliffe, n. Sax, a rock
Clifte, n. Say, a cleft
Cliket, n. Fr. a key
See Cliffe
Clinke, v. Fr. to ring, net. to tinklę
U u iit
4
648
GLOSSARY.
Cippe, v. Sax. to cut hair, to embrace
Clipfy, adj. as if eclipfed
Clobbed, adj. Sax. like a club
Cloiftre, n. Fr. a cloiſter, an enclofure
Clomben, pa. t. pl. of climb, v. Saz.
Clofer, n. Fr. an encloſure
Clote-lefe, a leaf of the burdock, or clotebur
Clotered, part pa. Sav. clotted
Cloue-gilofre, fr. a clove-tree or the fruit of it
Cloutes, n. pl. Sax. fmall pieces
Clum. This word feems to be formed from the Sex.
v. cluraian, muſſitare murmurare, to exprefs the
mumbling noile which is made by a congrega-
tion in accompanying prayers which they can-
not perfectly repeat
Coagulat, part. pa. Lat. curdled
Cokes bones, a corruption of a familiar oath
Cod, n. Sax. a bag
Cofre, n. Fr. a cheft
Cogge, n. Sax. a cockboat. See Du Garge in v.
Cago
Coilons, a. pl. Fr teſticles
Coine, n. tr. a piece of money, a quince
Coint. adj. Fr. neat, trim
Coke, n. Lat. a cook
Cokeney, n. a cook
F
Cokewold, n. a cuckold. How this word has been
formed is difficult to fay, but probably it has
fome relation to the Fr. cocu. In the belt mff. of
The Canterbury Tales, it is conſtantly ſpelled as
above, and is always, I believe, to be pronoun-
ced as a trifyllable. The author of The Re-
medy of Love, ver. 288, Jeq. pretends that the
true orthography of this word is cockold, accor-
ding to a incft abfurd etymology which he has
there given of it; an additional proof (if any
were wanted) that The Remedie of Love was
not written by Chaucer
Col, n. a. a cominon name for a dog
Cold, v. Sax. to grow cold
Coler, n. Fr. a collar
Colered, part. pa. collared, wearing collars
Collation, я. Fr. a conference
Collinges, n. pl. Fr. embraces round the neck
Coltifh, adj. dax. playful as a colt
Columbine, adj. Lat. belonging to a dove, dove-
like
Combre-world, n. an incumbrance to the world
Combuft, adj Lat. burnt, a term in aftrology when
a planet is not more than 8° 30' diflant from
the fun.
Come, for cometh
Commenfal, n. Fr. a companion at table
Commune, n. Ir. commonalty
Comunes, n. pl. commoners, common people
Compaignable, adj. Ir. fociable
Compame, for compagne
Compas, . Fr. a compafs a circle; the Trine
compas, the Trinity; an appellation borrowed,¦
as it feems, from the common emblem of that
nyftery, a circle circumfcribing 3 triangle-con-
trivance
Compalment, n.
Compafling, n.
n."}
contrivance
Compaſs, v. to contrive, he compaffed his thoughts
he contrived in his thought
Compenable, adj. as compaignable
Compere, n. Fr. a goffip, a near friend
Complin, ". Fr. complie, evenfong, the left fer-
vice of the day, finging in general
Compowned, part. pa compofed, put together
Compte, a. Fr. account
Concete, n. Fr. conception, apprehenfion
Condefcende, v. Fr. to yield
Condife, n. pl. Fr. conduits
Confe&ture, n. tr. compofition
Confule, adj. Fr. confounded, he became fo con-
fufe, he conneth not loke
Conjece, v. Tr. to project •
Couifaunce, n. Fr. underſtanding
Conjure, v. Tr. to adjure
Conne, v. Sax. to know, to be able; I fhal not conne
anfwere; I fhall not know how-or be able, to
anfwer; thou fhall never-Con, knowen, thou'
fhalt be never able to know-to conne thank,
to be pleaſed or obliged, ſçavoir gre, Fr. to conne
maugre, to be diſpleaſed, ſçavoir mal gré, orig.
Confeil, n. Fr. counfel
Confentant, part pr. Ir. confentant of this curfed-
neffe, contenting to t. c.
Conſerve, v. Fr. to preſerve
Confiftory, n. Fr. fignifies ufually an ecclefiafti-
calcourt, pontus, any court of justice
Conftablerie, n. Fr. a ward or divifion of a caftle
under the care of a conſtable. Du Cange in v.
Conftabularius caftri
Conteke, a. Sax. contention
Contenance, n. Fr. appearance, pretence
Contract, part. pa. Lat contracted
Contrariauntes, part. pr. is uſed in the plural num-
ber, according to the French cuftom, oppofing,
contradicting
Contrarie, v. Fr. to contradict
Contrarious, adj. Fr. oppoſite, perverſe
Contrary, n. Fr. adverſary
Contrefete, v. Fr. to counterfeit, imitate
Controve, . Ir. to invent
Contubernial, adj. Lat. familiar
Contune, for continue. This is one of thoſe li-
cences, for the fake of rhyme, which univerfal
cuftom can alone juftify. Our Author feems
to have been afhamed of it, as I do not recollect
to have met with it in The Canterbury Tales.
Lydgate has been lefe fcrupulous. See Trag. 2.
b. 14. b. 24. b.
Cope, n. Fr. cape, a cloak
Coppe, n. Sax. the top of any thing
Curage, a. Ir. heart, inclination, fpirit, courage
Corbettes, n. pl. Ir. niches for flatues
Cordeth, for accordeth
Cordowane, n.-Fr.cordouan, Spaniſh leather fo cal-
led from Corduba
Curdileres, u. pl. Ir. Cordeliers, an order of friars
fo called from their wearing a cord inſtead of a
Corinne, pr. n.
[girdic
Cornewaile, pr. n. Cornouaille in Bretagne
Corniculere, z. Lat an cfficer in the Roman go-
ver: meut. Ses Puifs. Lex. ant. Rem, in v. Lure
nivularius
GLOSSARY.
€79
Cornmufe, n. Fr. a bagpipe
·Corny, adj. Sax. ftrong of the corn or malt
Coroune, n. Fr. a crown or garland
Corps, n. Fr. body
Corpus, n. Lat. body, corpus Domini, God's body;
corpus Madrian
Corrige, v. Fr. to correct
Corrumpable, adj. Fr. corruptible
Corrumpe, v. Ir. to corrupt
Corfe, ax. to curfe
Corfeint, n. Fr. a holy body, a faint, the corſaynt
and the kirke
Corven, part pa. of carve, v. Sax. cut
Cofin, n. Fr. a coufin or kinfman it is fometimes
ufed adjectively, allied, related
Cofinage, n. or kindred
Collage, n. ir. coft, expence
Coilcie, v. Fr. to go by the coaſt
Coflewe, adj. costly
Coftrell, n, a drinking veffel. See Du Cange, in v.
Caftrellus
Cote, n. Sax. a cottage
Cote, n. Fr. a coat, cote-armure, a coat worn over
armour, upon which the armorial enfigns of the
wearer were uſually embroidered
Cotidien, n. 17.
1 r. daily; it is uſed as a fubftantive
for a quotidian ague
Couche, v ir. to lay
Couched, part pa laid, couched with perles, laid
or trimmed with pearls
Coud, coude, pa. t. of conne, knew, was able
Coveite, o. Fr. to covet
Covenable, adj. Fr. convenient, fuitable
Coverchiefs. n. pl. Fr. headclothes
Covercle, n. Fr. a potlid
Covert, adj. Fr. fecret, covered
Covine, n. Fr. fecret contrivances
Coulpe, n. Fr. `a fault
Count, v. Fr. to account, to eſteem
Counterpeile, n. Fr. a counterpoife, a weight which
balances another
Counterpeife, v. Fr. to counterpoife
Counterplete, v. Fr. to plead againſt
Counterwaite, v. Fr. to watch againſt
Countour, n. Fr. comptoir, a countinghouſe compteur,
an arithmetician, Du. 435.
Countretaille, n. Fr. a tally anſwering exactly to
another, hence Echo is faid to answer at the coun-
tretaille
te
beſt French mff, that I have feen) might eaſily
be corrupted, according to the French mode of
pronunciation, into couart and couard-I have
fomewhere feen the French language ſeriouſly
charged with indelicacy for its frequent and
wanton ufe of the word cul in compofition; nor
can the charge be faid to be groundleſs. Befide
the numerous inftances which will occur to eve-
ry body, I fufpect that this monofyllable makes
part of a common and folemn term in our law,
imported originally from France Culprif feems to
have been a vulgar name for a prifoner, a per-
fon taken by that part which is moft expofed in
running away. Holinfhed has expreffed the
fame idea more delicately, vol. iii. p 842" The
**
prentiſes were caught by the backs, and had
"to priſon "And ſo it is expreſſed in Ancient
Scottiſh Poems, p 182, ver. 15-Yet Deid
[Death] fal tak him be the bak
Coye, v. Fr. to quiet, to foothe
Craftefman, n. Sax. a man of ſkill
Crake, v. Fr. to crack
[ing
Crake, crakel, v. Sax. to quaver hoarfely in fing-
Crampifh, v. Fr to contract violently, as the cramp
does, An. 170.
Cratching, n.
ax. fcratching
Crafed, part. pa. Fr. ecrafé broken
Creance, n. Fr faith, belief
Creance, Fr. to borrow money
Create, part pa. Lat crincled, circularly formed,
perhaps from the lfiand, kringe, cirino,gyro
Crepil n. ax. a cripple
Crevaffe, n Fr. a chink or crevice
Criande, part. pr. of crie, n. Fr. crying
Crips, Fiii. as criſpe
Criffippus, pr. n. I find the title of a work in Mont-
faucon, ibl. Bibl. p. 513 to which Chaucer
may poffibly allude; Chryfippi. difcipuli Euthymii,
in Joanem encomium-and again, p 1314. Chry-
fippi Prefbyteri laudatio, S. Joannis Baptifiæ. It is
not unlikely that a panygerift on the Baptift
might be led by his rage againft Herodias to fay
feme harth things of women in general
Crifpe, adj. Lat. curled
Croce, n Sax. a crofs
Crois, n. Fr. a croſs
Cromes, n. pl Sav crumbs
Crommed, part. pa. Sax. ftuffed. crammed [Killian
Crone, a day, an old woman; kronie, ovis vetula,
Courc, v. Ir. to fit crouching like a brooding Crope, cropen, part, pa. of crepe, v. Sax. crept
hen
Courtepy, a fhort cloke of coarſe cloth
Court-man, a courtier, bomme de cour, Fr.
Couth, couthe, pa. t. of conne, knew, was able
part pa. known
Cowardife, n. Fr. want of courage. As to the ety-
mology of the adj. from which this word has
been formed, I think the opinion of Twyfden
and Somner [Gloff ad X. Script. v. Fridwite]
much the most probable, who derive it from the
barb. Lat, culum vertere, to turn tail, to ran a-
way. See Du Cange in v. Culverta and Culver-
tagium, who rejects the opinion above mention-
ed, but without fuggefting any thing fo plauti-
plc. Culvert (as it is written in the oldeſt and
|
Croppes, n. pl. Sax. the extremities of the shoots
of vegetables; now in the crop, now at the
top; croppe and rote, root and branch; the
whole of a thing.
Croffelet, n Fr. a crucible
Crouche, . Sax. to fign with the cross,
Croude, . Sax to fhove together
Crouke, n. Sar. an earthen pitcher
Croun, a. Fr. fignifies head
Croupe, z. Fr. the ridge of the back
Crowes feet, the wrinkles which ſpread from the
outer corner of the eyes: Spenfer deſcribes this
mark of old age in the fame manner, ecl. 12;
And by mine eie the crow his claw doth wright.
U
aij
680
GLOSSARY.
Crowned, part. pa. wearing a crown; crowned Dawe, v. Sav. to dawn
malice, fovereign malice.
Crull, adj. Sax. curled
.
Dawnening, ". Sax. daybreak
Dawes, n. pl. for dayes
Cucurbite, n. Lat. a gourd, a veffel shaped like a Daye, n. Sax. day, time, at my day, at the day ap-
gourd, ufed in diftillation
Culpons, n. pl. Fr. fhreds, logs
Culver, n. Sax. a dove
Cuppe, n. ir. a cup; withouten cuppe he drank
all his penance, he took large draughts of grief;
he made no uſe of a cup, but drank out of the
pot
Curacion, n. Fr. cure, healing
Cure, n. Fr. care; 'I do no cure, I take no care
Curfew-time, according to the Conqueror's edict,
is faid to have been 8 h. p. m. Walfingham,
Speaking of an event on the 2d of September
1311, mentions 9 h. as the bora ignitegii. It pro-
bably varied with the feafons of the year
Curious, adj. Fr. careful
Curtcis, adj. Fr. courteous
Cuſtomer, adj. Fr. accuſtomed
D.
Paffe, n. Sar. a fool; thou doteft, daffe, quod fhe,
dull are thy wittes
Dagge, n. a flip or fhred, pierce plough, 6. b.
Dagged, part. pa. cut into flips
Dagging, ". flitting, cutting into flips
Dagon, n. a flip or pièce
Damafcene, pr. n. the country about Damaſcus
Damafcene, pr. n. Joannes Meſae Damafcenus, an
Arabian phyſician in the 8th and 9th century.
See Fabric. Bibl. Gr t. xiii. p. 256.
Dame, n Fr. Lat. domina, miſtreſs, lady, mother
Dampne, v. Fr. to condemn
Dan. n. Fr. Lat. dominus, lord, was a title common-
ly given to monks. It is alſo prefixed by Chau
cer to the names of other perfons of all forts;
Dan Arcite, Dan Burrnell, Dan Caton
Dance, n. Fr. the old dance, the old game. The
French have the fame phraſe, elle feait affez de la
vicille Danfe. Colgrave
Danger, n. Fr. a dangerous fituation in danger,
coynefs, fparingnels, with danger, fparingly.
Dangerous, adj. difficult, fparingly
Dante, pr. n. See Gloff. in v. Lavender.
|
|
pointed to me; to graunt him dayes of the re-
menant, to permit him to pay the remainder at
certain days by instalments
Deaurat, part. pa. Lat. gilded
Debate, v. Fr. to fight
Debonaire, adj. Fr. courteous, gentle
Decoped, part. pa. Fr. cut down
Decorate, pr. n. Decoratus
Dede, v. Sax. to grow dead; part. pa. dead
Dedly, adj. Sax devoted to death
Deduit, n. Fr. pleaſure
Defait, defaited, part pa. Fr. wafted
Defame, n Fr. infamy
Defame, v. Fr. to make infamous
Defaute, n. Fr. want defautes, pl. defects
Defende, v. Fr. to forbid, to ranſom
Defence, n. Fr. prohibition
}
Definiſhe, v. Fr. to define, to make a definition
of,
Degree, n. Fr. a ftair, or ſet of ſteps, rank in life
Deiden, pa. t. pl of deye, v Sax. died
Deine, for deien, inf. m. of deye, v. Sax. to die
Deinous, adj. Fr. difdainful
Deintee, n. Fr. value, a thing of value; hath dein-
tee, values highly; told no deintee of, fet no
value upon; it was deintee, it was a valuable
thing
Deinteous, adj. choice, valuable
Deis, n. Fr. a wooden floor
Del, n. Sax. a part; never a del, not a bit; every
del, every part
Dele, v. Sax. to divide
Delibere, v. Fr. to deliberate
Delicacie, n. Fr. pleaſure
Delices, n. pl. F. delights
Delie, adj. Fr. delié, thin, flender
Delit, n. Fr. delight
Delitable, adj. Fr. delectable
Deliver, adj. Fr. nimble, Conf. Am. 177, b.
Deliverly, ado. quickly
Deliverneſs, n. Fr. agility
Delve, v. Sav. to dig
Delavy, n. Lat. deluge
Demaine, v. Fr. to manage
Dapple-gray, the colour which is called in Fr. | Demaine, n. Fr. management
pommelé
Dare, v Sax, to ftare
Dares, pr. n of a fuppofed hiftorian of the Trojan
war, Du 1070
L.
Darreine, v. Fr. defrener, Lat. deraționare, to
canteft
Dart, n. Sax. a fpear or javelin ; the dart is fette up
for virginitce. There is an allution to the fame
cuſtom in Lyds. Tra. 26;
And oft it happeneth he that hath beſt ron
Doth not the fpere like his defert poffede.
Dafen, pr. t. pl. of daſe, v. Sax. grow dim-fighted
Daunt, v. Fr. to conquer, that ne with love may
daunted be, orig. qui par amours ne foit domptez
Deme, v. Sax. to judge
Demoniak, n. Fr. one poffeft by a devil
Dent, n. Sax. a ftroke. See Dint
Denwere, n. doubt, Sk. This interpretation fuits
well enough with the only paffage in which I
have found this word; but I fhould be glad to
fee fome other inftance of the uſe of it.
De par dieux jeo affente, in God's name I agree.
Depart, v. Fr. to part, to diftribute
Depeint, part. pa. Fr. painted
Dequace, v. to ſhake down, q?
Dere, v. Sax. to hurt
Dere, adj. Sax. dear
Dereling, n. Sav. darling
Dereworth, adj. Sax. precious, valued at a high
rate
:
3
?
I
GLOSSAR Y.
681
Derne, adj. Sax. fecret
Des, F. iii. 270, as deis
Derre, comp. of dere
Disjoint, n. Fr. a difficult fituation
Difobeifant, part. pr. Fr. diſobedient
Diſordeined, part. pa. Fr. diſorderly
Deſcenſorie, n. Fr. a veffel uſed in chemiſtry for Difordinate, adj. Lat. diforderly
the extraction of oils per defcenfam
Deſcriven, inf. m. Fr. to deſcribe
Defirous, adj. Fr. eager
Defolat, part. pa. Lat. abandoned, diſtreſſed
Despite, . Fr. malicious anger
Deſpitous, adj. angry to excefs
Defpitoufly, adv. angrily
Defpoile, v. Fr. to undreſs
Deftreine, v. Fr. to vex, to conſtrain
Deftrer, n. Fr. a war horfe, Lat. dextrarius
Deftrie, deftruie, v. Fr. to deſtroy
Determinat, part. pa. Lat. fixed, determined
Detteles, adj. free from debt
Deve, adj. Sax. deaf
Devining, n. Fr. divination
Devife, n. Fr. direction
Devife, v. Fr. to direct, to order, to relate; at
point deviſe; a point devifé, Fr. with the great-
eft exactnefs
Devoir, n. Fr. duty; wele thei ftode and did ther|
devere
Dey, n. probably originally meant a day-labourer
in general, though it may fince have been uſed
to denote particularly a fuperintendent of a
dayerie. See Du Cange, in v. Daeria, Dayeria,
Degafcalci
Deye, v. Sax. to dye
Deyer, n. Sax. a dyer
Diapred, part. pa. Fr. diverſified with flourishes,&c.
Diche, v. sax. to dig, to furround with a ditch
Dide, for died
Dide, pa. t. of do, v. Sax, diden, pa. t. pl.
Die, v. Sax. to tinge
Dietę, n. Fr. daily food
Diffame, n. Fr. bad reputation. See Deſame
Digeftible, adj Lat. eafy to be digefted
Digeftives, n. pl. Fr. things to help digeftion
Dight, v. Sax. to difpofe, to drefs
Digne, adj. Fr. worthy, proud, diſdainful
Dike, v. Sax. to dig, to make ditches
Dilatation, ". Fr. enlargement
[thunder
Dint, n. Sax. as dent; thonder-dint, a ftroke of
Diofcorides, pr. n. of a Greek writer on plants,
whofe work is extant
Difarray, n. Fr. diſorder
Difavaunce, v. Fr. to drive back
Difaventure, n. Fr. misfortune
Difblame, v. Fr. to clear from blame
Discomfiture, n. Fr. defeat
Diſcomfort, n. Fr. diſpleaſure
Diſcomforten, v. Fr. to difcourage
Diſcoverte, adj. Fr. at difcoverte, uncovered; a
defcouvert
Difdeinous, adj. Fr. difdainful
Difencrefe, n. Fr. diminution
Difencrefe, v. neut. Fr. to decreaſe
Disfigure, n. Fr. deformity
Difherited, part. pa. Fr. difinherited, ftripped of
poffeffions
Dishevele, part. pa. Fr. with hair hanging loofe,
defcbevelé
Diſordinaunce. n. Fr. irregularity
Difparage, n. Fr. a difparagement
Difpence, n. Fr. expenfe
Difperance, n. Fr. deſpair
Diſpitous, adj. angry to exceſs. See Defpitous.
Difplefance, n. Fr. diſpleaſure
Difpone, Lat to difpofe
Diſport, n. Fr. deport, fport, diverſion
Difport, v. to divert
Difpreifing, part pa. Fr. undervaluing
Diſputiſon, n. Fr. difpute; the clergie of the fouth
made a difputefoun
Difrulily, adv. irregularly
Diffimule, v. Fr. to diffemble
Diffimulings, n. pl. Fr. diffemblings
Diffoned, part. pa. Fr. diffonant
Diſtaine, v. Fr. to diſcolour, to take away the co-
lour
Diſtinct, v Lat. to diſtinguiſh
Diftingued, part. pa. Fr. diſtinguiſhed
Diftourbled, p. 1. Fr. difturbed
Diftreyne, Fr. to conſtrain. See Deftreine
Diftrouble, v. Fr. to diſturb
Diſturne, v. Fr. to turn afide
Dite, v Fr. to dictate, to write
Dites, n. pl Fr. fayings, ditties
Ditus, pr. n Dicty's Cretenfis
Diverfe, adj. Fr. different
Diverfe, v. to diverſify
Divine, n. for divinity
Diviniftre, n. Fr. a divine
Do, v. do, for don, part. p.
Doand, part. pr. doing
Dogerel, adj. derived, I fuppofe, from dog, fo that
rime-dogerel may be underſtood to mean what
in French may be called rime de chien. See Cot-
grave in v. Chien; chofe de chien, a paltry thing,
a trifle, traſh, trumpery
Dogge for the bowe, a dog uſed in ſhooting
Doke, n. Sax. a duck
Dole, n. Sax. as del
Dole, n. Fr. grief, mourning
Dolven, part. pa. of delve, v. Sax. buried
Dombe, adj. Sax. dumb
Dome, n. Sax. judgment, opinion
Domefman, ". Sax. a judge
Donet, ". a grammar, the elements of any art, from
Ælius Donatus, a Roman grammarian, whoſe
Introduction to the Latin language [inter Gramm.
Vet. Putſch. p. 1735.] was commonly read in
ſchools; then drave I me among drapers my do-
net to lerne, Pierce Plough, 23. b.
Donmow, pr. n. See Pierce Plough, 44. b.
Donne, don, adj. Sax. of a brown or dun colour
Dormant, part. pr. Fr. fixed, ready-Les vaiſſeaux
qui là dormointa l'ancre, Froiffart, v. iii. c. 52
Dortour, n. Fr. a dormitory, or common fleeping-
room
Dofein, n. Fr. a dozen
Doffer, . Fr. a basket to be carried on the back
582
GLOSSARY.
Dote, v. Sax. to be foolish through age or other-, Drugge, v. Sav. to dag
wife
Doth, imp. m. 2d per. pl. of do, do ye
Douced, may perhaps be a corruption of doucete,
which is the name of a mufical inftrument in a
poem of Lydgate's, mf. Bodl. Fairf. 16.
Ther were trumpes and trumpetes,
Lowde fhallys and doucetes.
Doughtren, n. pl. Sax. daughters
Doutance, n. Fr. doubt
Doute, v. Fr. to fear
Doutelees, douteles, adv. without doubt
Doutous, adj. doubtful
D'outre mere, Fr. from beyond fea, Du. 253-
Dowaire, n. Fr. dower
Dradde, drad, p. t. & part. of drede, v. Sax. feared
Draf, n. Sax. things thrown away as unfit for
man's food
Draf-fack, a fack full of draff
Drafty, adj. Sax. of no more value than draff
Dragges, n. pl. Fr. drugs
Drede, n. Sav. fear, doubt; withouten drede,
without doubt; out of drede, out of doubt
Drede, v. Sax. to fear, dred, pa. t. for drad
Dredeful, adj. timorous
Dredeles, adv. without doubt
Dreint, pa. t. & part. of drenche, drowned
Drenche, v. Sax, to drown
Drenche, v. neut Sax. to be drowned
Drerineffe, n. Zax forrow
Drery, adj. Sax. forrowful
Dreffe, v. Fr. to addrefs, apply
Dretche, v. act. Sax, to vex to trouble
Dretched, part. pa. opprefled, troubled, Conf.
Am. 79
Dretche, v. neut. Sax. to delay, Conf. ¿m. 178
Dretching, n. delay
Drie,. Sax. to fuffer
Drife, v. Sax. to drive
Drinkeles, adj. Sax. without drink
Dronkelew, adj. Sax. given to drink, Pierce
Plough 41
Dronken, part. pa. of drink, v. Sax. drunk
Drough, pa. t. of draw, v. Sax. drew
Drovy, adj. Sax, dirty
Druerie, n. Fr. courtship, gallantry, a miſtreſs. See
Du Cange in v. Drudaria.-The reader may
perhaps be not difpleafed to fee the following
deſcription of a drut or lover, by Guillem Aef-
mar, a Provencal poet, mf. Crofts, fol. 219.
Ben paoc ama drut, qi non es gelos,
Et paoc ama, qi non eft airos,
Et paoc ama, qi non es folettis,
Et paoc ama, qi non fa tracios;
Mais vaut d amor qi ben eſt enveios
Un dolz plorar non fait qatorze ris.
Quant eu li quier merce en genoillos,
E la mi colpa et mi met ochaifos,
Et laigua m cur avel per mer lo vis,
Et ela m fai un regard amoros,
Et eu li bais la bucha els ols amdos,
Adonc mi par un ioi de paradis.
Dubbed, part pa Sax. created a knight; the phraſe
is derived from the ftroke (with a fword or
otherwiſe), which was always a principal cere-
mony at the creation of a knight; at dubban,
Ifland, fignifies to ftrike: this ftroke in French
was called la colée. See L'Ordene de Chevalerie par
Hue de Tabarie, ver 244. feq. publifhed by M.
Barbazan and Du Cange in v Alapa Militaris
Duetec, n. Fr. duty, what is due to any one
Dulle, v. act Sax, to make dull
Dulle, v. neut Sex. to grow dull
Dun is in the mire. See Ray's Proverbial Similes,
p. 319, as dull as Dun in the mire. I fuppofe
Dun was a nickname given to the afs from his
colour, as well as Burnell
Dure, . Fr. to endure
Dureffe, n. Fr. hardſhip, ſeverity
Duſked, pa. t. Sax. grew dark or dim
Dutee, as duetee
Dwale, n Sav. a fleeping potion
Dwellings, n. pl Sa. delays; moras, orig.
Dwined, part. pa. Sax. waited
E.
Eared, part. pa. ploughed. Sec Ere
Ebraike, adj Hebrew
Ecclefiaft, n. an ecclefiaftical perſon, the book af
Ecclefiaftes or Ecclefiafticus
Eche, adj. Sax. xlce, each one, every one, of
number
Eche, v. Sar. to add, to add to, to encreaſe
Edippe, pr. n. Œdipus
Effect, n. Fr. fubſtance
Eft, adv. Sav. again
Eftfone, eftfones, adv. Sax. foon after, prefently
Egalitee, n. Fr. equality
Eger, egre, adj. Fr. fharp
Egge, . Sax, to incite
Eggement, n. Sax. incitement
Egging, n. as eggement
Egremoine, n. Fr. agrimony
Eire, for air
Eitel, n. Sax. vinegar
Elat, part. pa. Lat. elated
Elde, n. Sa.. old age
any
Elde. v. Sax. to make old, v. neut, to grow old
Elenge, adj. ftrange, Ur. it fometimes feems to fig
nify dull, cheerlefs, as in Pierce Plough, III, b.
heavy-chered I yede, and elenge in herte.
Elengencfle, n. in the orig foucy, care, trouble
Elfe, n. Sax. a witch, a facry
Elf-quene, ». queen of elves or faeries
Eli, pr. n. feems to be put for Elie. See 1 Kings,
chap. 19
Elic, pr. n. Elijah. The Carmelites pretend that
Elijah was the founder of their order
Eliſte, pr. «. Elifha, the diſciple of Elijah
Elles, adv. Sar. elfe; elles what, any thing elfe; el-
les wher, elfewhere
Elvish, adj. Sav faery-like, fantaftick; it fometimes
feems to fignify fhy, referved
Embelife, v. Fr. to beautify
GLOSSARY.
688
Embolde, v. Fr. to make bold
Emboyffement, n. Fr. ambuſh
Embrouded, part. pa. Fr. embroidered
Eme, n. Sax. uncle
Emforth, prep. Sax. even with ; emforth my might,
even with my might, with all my power; cm-
forth my wit, to the utmost of my underſtand-
ing it is a corruption of even forth, which oc-
curs at length in Pierce Plough, 66, b. evenforth
with thyfelfe
Empeire, v. Fr. to impair, hurt
Emperice, n. Fr. empereſs
Emplaftre, v. Fr. to plaſter over
Emplie, v. to infold, to involve; implicat, orig.
Empoifoner, n. Fr. a poiſoner
Empreffe, v. neut. Fr. to crowd
Empriſe, n. Fr. undertaking
Empte, v. Sax. to empty
Entente, n. Fr. intention
Ententif, adj. Fr. attentive
Enterchangeden, pa. t. fl. Fr. exchanged
Entermedled, fart. fa. Fr. intermixed
Entermete, v. Fr. to interpofe
Enterpart, v. Fr. to ſhare
Entetched, fart. ja. Fr. entacbé; it is applied indif
ferently to things and perfons marked or en-
dowed with good or bad qualities: enteched
and defouled with yvel, ftained and defiled with
evil; the beſt entetched, endowed with the beſt
qualities
Entree, n. Fr. entry
Entremees, #. pl. Fr. choice difhes ferved in be-
tween the courſes at a feaft, Gotg.
Entrike, v. Fr. to deceive, to entangle
Entuned, fart. fa. Fr. tuned
Entunes, n. Fl. Fr. fongs, tunes, Du. 309.
Embattelled, part. pa. Fr. indented like a battle- Envenime, v. Fr. to poison
ment
Enbibing, part. pr. I at. imbibing
Enbofed, part. pa. Fr. emboſqué, fheltered in a
wood, Du. 35 3
Enboſſed, part. pa. Fr. emboſſé, raiſed
Enbrace, v. Fr. to take hold of
Enbraude, v. Fr. to embroider
Encenfe, n. Fr. incenfe
Encenfe, . Fr. to burn incenfe, to burn incenfe to
Enchaufing, n. Fr. heat
Enchefon, n. Fr. caufe, occafion
Encorporing, part. pr. Fr. incorporating
Endelong, prep. Sax. along, adv. lengthways
Endetted, part. pa. Fr. indebted
Endite, v. Fr. to dictate, relate
Endoute, v. Fr. to doubt, to fear
Endrie, v. Sax. to fuffer
Ence, pr. n. Æneas
Eneidos, pr. n. Virgils Æneis
Enfamined, part. pa. Fr. hungry
Enfecte, v. Fr. to infect, part. pa. infected
Enforce, v. Fr. to ſtrengthen
Enforced, part. po. conſtrained by force
Enfortune, v. Fr. to endow with a certain for-
tune
Engendrure, n. Fr. generation
Engined, part. pa. Fr. racked, tortured
Engluting, rather enluting, ftopping with clay
Engregge, v. Fr. to aggravate
Engreve, v. Fr. to hurt
Enhaunfe, v. Fr. to raiſe
Enhaunfed, part. pa. raiſed
Enhort, v. Fr. to exhort
Enlaced, part. pa. Fr. entangled
Enlangoured, part. fa. Fr. faded with langour
Enleven, num. Sax. eleven
Enlumine, v. Fr. to illuminate
Enoint, fart. pa. Fr. anointed
Enfeled, fart. pa. Fr. fealed up, kept fecret
Enſpire, v. Fr. to inſpire
Enlure, v. Fr. to affure
Entaile, n. Fr. fhape
Entailed, fart. 1a. Fr. carved
Entalente, v. Fr. to excite
Entend, v. Fr. to attend
Entendement, «. Fr. underſtanding
Enveniming, n. poiſoning
Envie, v. Fr. to vie, to contend, Du. 406
Environ, adv. Fr. about, Conf. Am. 239, b.
Environ, v. Fr. to furround
Envoluped, fart. pa. Fr. wrapt up
Envyned, ftored with wine
Epiftolis, Lat. epiftles
Equipolences, ". pl. Fr. equivalents
Er, ado. Sax. before, before that
Erande, я. Sax. a meffage, an errand, Dv. 134
Ere, v. Fr. to plough
Ereos, for Eros, pr. n. Gr. Love
Erke, adj. Sax. weary, fick,
Erly ado. Sax. early
Erme, v. Sax. to grieve
Ermin, adj. Armenian
Erneft, n. Sax. zeal, ftudious purſuit of any thing
Erneſtful, adj. ferious
Erratike, adj. Fr. wandering, applied to the pla-
nets
Erraunt, fart. pr. Fr. ftrolling, applied to a thief
Ers, crfe, n. Sax. the fundament
Erft, adv. fuferl, of er, firſt, at erſt, at firſt, for the
first time; it is fometimes redundant, long erft
or, long before
Ertheles, adj. Sax. without earth
Eſchaunge, n. Fr. exchange
Efcheve, efchuè v. Fr. to fhun, to decline
Efculapius, pr. n. a book of medicine under his
name is mentioned by Fabric. Bibl. Gr. t. i p.
56, n.
Efe, n. Fr pleaſure
Efe, v. to accommodate
Efement, z. relief
Efie, adj. gentle, light; efie fighes, which paffage
Lord Surrey has copied, Songes, &c. p, 12, “and
eaſy fighes, ſuch as folkes draw in love."
Efier, comp. d. lighter; of efier avail; of lighter or
lefs value
Efilich, adv. gently
[nus
Efperus, pr. n. Hefperus, a name of the planet Ve-
Efpiaille, . Fr. fpying, private watching
Elpirituell, adj. Fr. fpiritual, heavenly
Effoine, n. Fr. a legal excufe
Eftat, eftate, n. Fr. ftate, condition, adminiſtration
of government
684
GLOSSARY.
Eſtatelich, adj. ftately
Eftres, n. pl. Fr. the inward parts of a build-
ing
Eterne, adv. Lat. everlaſting
Ethe, adj. Sax. eafy
Evangiles, n. pl. Fr. gofpels
Even, adj. Sax. equal; an even Criften, a fellow
Chriftian
Evenlike, adj. Sax. equal
Evenlike, adv. equally
Ever, adv. Sax. always; ever in on, continually in
the fame manner; ever lenger the more, where
this elliptical phraſe is expreſſed at length.
Everich, adj. Sax. every one of many, each of two
Ew, n. Sax. yew
Exaltat, part. pa. Lat. exalted
Exametron, is explained by the context to fignify
a verſe of ſix feet; it ufually fignifies the heroic
verſe, but here, 1 fuppofe, muſt be underſtood to
mean the iambic, in which the ancient tragedies
were commonly verified.
Executour, n. Fr. executioner
Executrice, n. Fr. a female executioner
Exorcifations, n. pl. Fr. exorcifms, conjurations
Expans yeres, "In this and the following verfes
"the poet deſcribes the Alphonfine aſtronomical
"tables by the ſeveral parts of thenf, wherein
CC
"fome technical terms occur which were uſed
"by the old aftronomers, and continued by the
compilers of thoſe tables. Colle& years are
certain fums of years, with the motions of the
heavenly bodies correſponding to them, as of
20, 40, 60, &c. difpofed into tables; and expans
years are the fingle years, with the motions of
"the heavenly bodies anfwering to them, be-
ginning at I, and continued on to the ſmalleſt
"collect fum, as 20, &c. A root or radíx is any
"certain time taken at pleaſure, from which as
re
an era the celeftial motions are to be com-
"puted. By proporcionel convenientes are meant
"the tables of proportional parts." Gloff. Ur.
Argument in aftronomy is an arch whereby
we feek another unknown arch proportional
"to the firſt." Chambers
Expectaunt, part. pa. Fr. waiting
Expleite, v. Fr. to perform
Ey, n. Sux. an egg; but as it were a grypes aye,
Conf. Am. 22
Ey, interj.
Eyen, n. pl. Sax, eyes
Eyre, for air
Eyrish, adj. aerial, belonging to the air
F.
Fable, n. Fr. idle difcourfe
Faconde, n. Fr. eloquence
Facounde, adj. eloquest Du. 926.
Faerie, n. Fr. the nation of Faeries. Enchantment,
the work of faeries; king of Faerie; quene of
Faerie; contree of Faerie
Fain, adj. Sax. glad; than was I as fayne as foule
of fayre morowe, Pierce Plough, 47, b.
Fain, adv. gladly
|
Faine, v. Fr. to feign, to diffemble; to fwinke and
travail he not faineth, he does not feign or pre-
tend only to labour, i. e. he labours feriouſly.
Fairchede, n. Sax. beauty
Faitour, n. Fr. a lazy idle fellow, Pierce Plough,
32 b. 33 b. faitard, faiteor, un pareffeux, piger.
Lacombe
Falding, a kind of coarfe cloth, Sk. He derives it
from the A. $ feald, plica: however that may
be Helmoldus [Cbron. Slav. 1. i. c. 1,] fpeaks of
indumenta lanea (probably coarſe enough) que
nos appellamus faldenes; and fallin in Irifh, ac-
cording to Lhuyd, fignifies a mantle. Giraldus
Cambr. [Topog. Hibern, dift. 3. c. 10,] defcribes
the Irish as clothed in phalingis lancis, vice pal-
liorum. Faldyng cloth, Amphibalus. Birrus-
Prompt. Parv Row cloth, as faldyng and other
like. Endromis Amphibalus ibid. See Du Cange,
in v. Amphibalus
Fall, for fallen, part. pa.
་
Falſen, v. Fr. to falfify, to deceive
Falwe, adj. Sax. yellow
Falwes, n. pl. Sax. harrowed lands
Famuler, adj. i at domeſtic
Fan, n. the quintaine, which is called a fan or van,
from its turning round like a weathercock. See
Du Cange in v. Vana Menefrier fur les turnois,
Diet. Etymol. in v. Quintaine, and Kennet's Pa-
roch.
Fande, pa. t. of finde, v. Sax. found
Fane, n. a weathercock
Fantafie, n. Fr. fancy
Fantome, n. Fr. any falfe imagination; et dirent
plufiers qui'ls avoient eté en fantofme. Froiffart, v.
i. c. 63
Farce, v. Fr. farder, to paint
Fardel, n. Fr. a burthen
Fare, v. a. to go; to fare wel, to ſpeed, to be
happy
Fare, . feems to have been derived from the
French v. faire, whenever it can be interpreted
by the word ado; this hote fare; for which
the wardein chidde and made fare; what a-
mounteth all this fare? betwixt us two nedeth
no frange fare; and leve this nice fare. In
other inftances it follows the fenfe of the Saxon
v. fare, as in the compound words welfare,
thoroughfare, &c,
Faren, fare, part, pa.
Fares, for fareth
Faring, part. pr.
Farme, n. Sax. food, a meal. See Spelman in v
Firma
Farſe, v. Fr. farcir, to ſtuff
Fathe, n. See Lathe
Faute, n. Fr. want
Fawe, adj. Sax. glad; as fain
Fay, . Fr. faith
Fayre, adj. Sax. fair
Fayre, adv. fairly, gracefully
Febleſſe, u. Fr. weakneſs
Fecche, v. Sar. to fetch
Fee, n. Saw. money. It ſeems to fignify inheritablę
poffeflions, in contradiflinction to money or
movcables
GLOSSAR Y.
683
Feffe, v. Fr. to infeoff, to prefent
Feine, v. Fr. to feign
Fel, adv. Sax. cruel, deſtructive
Felaw, n. Sax. fellow, companion
Felawſhip, n. Sax. company
Felawſhipe, v. to accompany
Felde, n. Sax. a field
Felden, pa. t. pl. of felle, v. Sax. felled, made to
fall
Fele, adj. Sax. many
Fele, v. Sax. to feel, to have ſenſe, to perceive
Fell, ". Sax. fkin
Felonie, n Fr. all forts of criminal violence
Feloun, adj. Fr. cruel
Feminie, pr. n. the country of Amazons
Femininitee, #. Fr. womanhood
Fend, n. Sav. an enemy, the devil
Fendliche, adj. devilish
Fenne, n. the name of the fections of Avicenne's
great work intituled Canura. See Canon
Feoffed, part. pa. Ir. infeoffed
Fer, ado. Sax. far
Ferre, comp. further
Ferreft, faperl. furtheſt
Ferd, fered, part. pa. of fere, terrified
Ferd, ferde, pa. t. of fare
Ferden. pa. t pl.
Finch, n. Sax. a ſmall bird; to pull a finch, was a
proverbial expreffion, fignifying to ſtrip a man
by fraud of his money, &c.
If I may gripe a riche man
I fhall fo pulle him, if I can,
That he ſhall in a fewe ftoundes
Lefe all his markes and his poundes.-
Our maidens fhall eke plucke him ſo
That him fhall neden fethers mo.
Withoute fcalding they hem pulle.
Find, v. Sax. to find, to fupply. Fint, for findeth
Fine, fin, n. Fr. end
Fine, v. Fr. to ceaſe
Fine, adj. Fr. of fine force, of very neceffity
Fit. n. Sax. a divifion or ſhort portion of a poem:
See Gloff. Percy in v.
Fittingeft, adj. fup. Sax. moft fitting
Fixe, adj. Fr. fixed
Flaie, for fley, pa. t. of flee, flew
Flaine, part. pa of flaie, v. Sax. flaied or flead,
Flambe, n. Fr. flame
Flatour, x. Fr. a flatterer. Conf. Am. 154, b.
Flawe, adj. yellow, from the Lat. Augus. Gloff
Ur
Fere, n. Sav. a companion, a wife, in fere, toge. Flecked, adj. fpotted
ther, in company
Fere, for fire
Fere, n. Sav. fear
Fere, . Sa. to terrify
Ferforth, ferforthly, adv. Sax. far forth
Ferly, adj. Sav. ftrange
}
Fermacie, for pharmacie, n. Fr. a medicine
Ferme, n. Fr. a farm
Fermerere, n. Lat. infirmarius, the officer in a reli-
gious houſe who had the care of the infirmary,
Du Cange in v.
Ferne, adv. Sav. before
Fers, adj. r. fierce
Fers, n. Du 654, feq. the piece at chefs next to the
king, which we and other European nations
call the queen, though very improperly, as
Hyde has obſerved. Pherz or Phersân, which
is the Perfian name for the fame piece, fignifies
the king's chief counſellor or general. Hift.
Shabilud. p. 88,9
Ferthing, n. Cav. a farthing, any very ſmall thing;
no ferthing-of greſe, not the ſmalleſt ſpot of
greate
Felt, n. Sax. fin ·
Fette, n. Fr. feaſt
Felteying, part. pr. Fr. feaſting
Festlich, adj. uſed to feaſts
Fetche, n Sax. a vetch
Fete, n, Fr work
#.
Fetife, adj. well made, neat
Fetifely, adv. neatly, properly
Fette, fet, part pa. of fecche
Fey, n. Fr. faith
Feyre, n. Fr. a fair or market
Fiaunce, n. Fr truft
Fidel, z dar. a fiddle
Fill, for fell, pa. t. of fall
Fleckering, part. pr. See Flicker
Flee, . neut. Sax. to fly
Fleen, n. pl. Sax. fleas
Fleme, v. Sax. to banish
Flemed, part. pa.
Flemer, z. baniſher
Flete, v. Sar. to float, to fwim
Flete, for fleteth
|
Fleting, part. pr.
Flicker, v. neut. Sax. to flutter
Flit, v. neut. Sax, to fly; elle fuit, orig.
Flit, v. a. R. to remove
Flitering, part. pr. floating, fluitantus orig.
Flitted, part. pr. removed, ſhifted
Flo, ». Sax. an arrow, Flone, pl.
Flockmel, adv. Sax, in a flock
Florein, pr. n. a ſpecies of gold coin
Flotery, adj. Sax. floating
Flotte, v. Fr. to float,
Flotte,. as flete
Floureles, adj. without flower
| Flourette, ». Fr. a ſmall flower
Floyting, playing on the flute
Foine, v. Fr. to make a paſs in fencing, to puſh
Foifon, n. Fr. abundance
Foled, part. pa. Sax. foaled
Folehardiness, n. Fr. rafhneſs,
Fole-large, adj. penult, fooliſhly liberal
Folie, z. Fr. folly
Folily, adv. fooliſhly
Folwe, v. Sax. to follow
Foly, adj. fooliſh
Fond, adj. Sax. foolish
Fond, pa. t. of find
Fonde, v. Sax. to try
Fong, v. Sax. to take
Fonne, a. Sax, a fool
686
GLOSSARY.
Fonne, v, to be foolish
v.
Font-ſtone, n. Sax. a font for baptizing
For, prep. Sax. pro. Lat, pour. Fr. ; it is frequently
prefixed to verbs in the infinitive mood in the
French manner; for to tellen; for to don; pour
dire, pour faire; for to han ben, pour avour été.
It fometimes fignifies againft; for percing of
his herte, against, or to prevent, piercing; for
fteling of the roſe; againſt ſtealing. See Pierce
Plough; 31. fome fhall fowe the facke for fhed-
ding of the wheate, i. e. to prevent fhedding
For, conj.. Sax. quia, Lat. pour ce que, Fr. becauſe
that; for him lufte to ride fo; for the wolde
virtue plefe; for I teche
For, in compofition, has various powers; it is moft
commonly intenfive of the fignification of the
word with which it is joined, as in fordronken,
fordry, forfered, &c.; fometimes privative, as
in forboden, foryete; and fometimes only com-
municative of an ill fenfe, as in forfaite, forfare,
forjuged, &c.
For, Fr. and ver, Belg. have fimilar powers in
compofition
Forbere, v. Sar, to abftain
1
Forboden, part. pa. of forbede, v. Sav. forbidden
Forbrake, pa. t. broke off; abrupi, orig.
Forbruſed, part. pa. Fr. forely bruifed
Force, n. Fr. no force, no matter; I do no force,
I care not; I do no force of your divinitee, I
care not for your divinity; no force of deth, no
matter for death; they yeve no force, they care
not; de fruit avoir ne fait force, orig.
Forcutte, v. Lav. to cut through
Fordo, v. Sax. to do away, to ruin.
Fordon, fordo, part. pa. undone
Fordrive, (fordriven) part. pa. Sax. driven away
Fordronken, part. pa. Sax. very drunken
For dry, adj. Sax. very dry
Fordwined, part. pa. Sax, wafted away
Fore, (foren) part. pa. of fare, v. Sax. gone
Fore prep. Sax. is feldom ufed by itfelf; in com-
pofition it has the power of before.
Forein, n. a jakes, Gloff. Ur from Sk.; the con-
text ſeems rather to require that it ſhould fig-
nify an outward court or garden.
Foreweting, n. Sar. foreknowledge
Forewote, forewete, v. Sax. to foreknow
Forfaite, v. Fr. to miſdo
Forfare, v. Sax. to fare ill
Forlcred, part. pa. Sax much afraid
Forgifte, n Sax. forgiveneſs
Forgon, inf. v. Sav. to omit, to lofe
Forgrowen, part. pa. Sax, overgrowen
Forjuged, part. pa. Fr. wrongfully judged
Forkerve, v. Sax. to carve or cut through
Forlaft, part. pa. Sax. left off entirely
Forleſe, v. Sax, to lofe entirely
Forlete, v. Cav. to give over, to quit
Forlore, (forloren) part. pa. Sax. utterly loft
Forloyne, n. Fr. forlonge, a term of the chafe,
which figuifies that the game is far off, Du. 386
Forme, adj. Saa. firft; Adam our forme father
Formeft, adj. fup. Sav. firſt, Du. 890
Formell, A. F. 371, is put for the female of any
fowl, more frequently for a female cagle
|
Forpined, pari, pa. Sax. wafted a way, torment-
ed
Forfake, v. Sav. to deny
Forfhapen, part. pa. Sax. transformed
Folfhronke, (foríhronken) part. pa. Sax. fhrunk up
Forfleuthe, forflouthe, forflugge, v. Sax. to lofe
through floth
Forfongen, part. pa. Sax, tired with finging
Forster, n. Fr. a forefter
Foreftraught, part, pa. Sax. diftracted
Forthby, adu. Sax. forward by
Forther, v. Sax. to further, to advance
Forthinke, v. Sar. to grieve, to vex
Forthought, pa. t. of forthinke
Forthren, inf. m. of forther
Forthy. conj. Sax. therefore
Fortroden, part pa. of fortread, v. Sax. trodez
down
Fortuis, adj. Fr. accidental
Fortune, v. Fr. to make fortunate, to give good or
bad fortune
Fortunous, adj. proceding from fortune
Forwaked, part. pa. Sax. having waked long
Forwandred, part. pa. Sax. having wandred
long
Forwelked, part. pa. Sax. much wrinkled
Forwept, part. pa. Sax. having much wept
Forwered, part..pa. Sec. worn out
Forewerie, adj. Sax. very weary
Forword, (foreword) n. Sax. a promiſe or covo
nant
Forwounded, part. pa. Sax. much wounded
Forwrapped, part. pa. wrapped up
Foryclde, v. Sax. to repay
Foryete, v. Sax. to forget
Foryctten, part. pa.
Fofter, n. Fr. as fofter
Foftred, part. pa. of fofter,. Sax, nouriſhed
Foftring, 7. nutriment
Fote-hot, immediately
Fote-mantel, means, I fuppofe, a fort of riding-pe
ticoat, fuch as is now ufed by market-women
Fother, n. Sax. a carriage-load; an indefinite large
quantity
Foudre, n. Fr. lightning
Foule, v. Sax. a bird
Found, pa. t. of find, fupplied
Founde, v. as fonde
Foundred, pa. t. of founder, v. Fr. fell down'
Fowertie, num. Sax. fortý
Foxeric, n. foxiſh manners
Fra, for fro, prep. Sax. from; it is fometimes uſed
adverbially, till and fra, to and fro
Fraine, v. Sar. to afk
Franknet, n. pl..Sax. ſpots, freckles
Franchife, n. Fr. franknefs, generofity
Frank, n. a denomination of French meney; an-
fwering at prefent to the livre Tournois
Frankelein, pr. n.
Fraught, v. Sax. to freight, load a fhip
Fre, adj. Sax. willing, unconſtrained, at liberty, lis
beral, bountiful
Fredom, n. Sax, as franchife
Freeltee, n. Fr. frailty
Fregius, for Phrygius
GLOSSAR Y.
687
Fremde, fremed, adj. Sax. ftrange, to frend he to
fremed, Pierce Plough, 79
Frenetike adj. Fr. frantick
Frenfeie, n. Fr. a frenzy
Fiere, n. Fr. a frier, Pierce Plough, 12. a. b.
Freshe, v. Fr. to refreſh
Fret, n. Fr. a band
Fret, frette, part. pa. Fr. fraught, filled, or perhaps
wrought in a kind of fretwork: a fort of blazon
is called frette; and through the fret full of
falfhede-we fhould read-a trouthe fret full of
falfhede
Frete, v. Sax. to eat, devour
Freting, part. pr.
Frette, (freted) part. pa.
Freyne, v. Sax. as fraine
Frile, pr. n. Friezland
Frote, Fr. to rub
Frounceles, adj. Fr. without wrinkle
Froward, adj. Sax. averſe
Fro ye, from you; ye is put for you, that fro ye
may rhyme, in appearance at least, with joye
and Troye
Fructuous, adj. Fr. fruitful
Fruiteftere, n. Sav a female feller of fruit
Ful-drive, part. pa. fully driven, completed
Fulke, (Fr. folke) n. Sax. people
Fulfumneffe, n. ax. fatiety
Fumetere. pr. n. of a plant, fumitory, fumaria-
purgat bilem et humires adufios. Ray's Synopfis.
Fumofitee. n. ir. fumes arifing from exceffive
drinking
Fundament, n. Fr. foundation
Furial, adj. fr. raging
Fufible, adj. r. capable of being melted.
Fy, interj. tr. I fay fy, I cry fhame
G.
Gabbe, v. Fr. to talk idly, to lie; gabbe I of this?
num id mentior?
Gacides, is probably a miſprint for acides,
though I do not know what Chiron had any
right to that citle
Cadling, n. Sav. an idle vagabond
Gidred. part. ja a gathered
Gailer n. Fr. gaoler
Gaillard adj. r. brifk, gay
Gaitre-beries, berries of the dog-wood tree, cor-
nus fœmina
Galaxie, pr. n. the Milky Way, a track in the
heavens fo called
Gale, . Sax. Galan Lax, fignifies canere.
Galiride, pr. n. Geoffrey of Monmouth, Geoffrey
Vinfauf. See Gaufride
Galice. r. n.
a province of Spain, the famous
fhrine of St. James at Compoftella was in Ga-
licia
Galingale, pr. n. fweet cypreſs
Gallien, Galian, ¡r. n. Gulen
Galoche, #. Tr. a ſhoe
Galpe, v. sav. to gape, to yawn
Sa
Galping, part. pr. gaping, yawning
Galwes, n. pl. Sax. the gallows
Gan, pa. t. of ginne, v. Sax. began
Gannen, fl
Gar, v. Sav. to make
Gardebrace, n. Fr. arniour for the arm
Gargate, n. Fr. the throat
Garifoun, feems to be uſed as a . to heal; the
orig. has gariſon, a. n. healing, recovery
Garnement, n. Fr. a garment
Garner, n. Ir. a granary or ftoreroom
Garniſon, n. Fr. a guard or garrifon
Gaſtnels, n. Sax. gaftlinefs
Gate, gatte, pa. t. of get, v. Sax. gat, begat
Gate, n. Sua, a way; went her gate, went her
way
Gatifden.fr. n. John Gatefden, author of a medi-
cal work, entitled Rofo Anglicana, in the 14th
century. See Tanner in v.
Gaude, n. Fr. jeft, gaudes, pl. ridiculous tricks
Gauíride, pr. n.
Gaure, to ftare, for them that gaured and
caft on me their fight Lyd. Gra. b. ix. f. 22.
b.
Gawain, pr. n. nephew to King Arthur by his fif-
ter, married to King Lot: fo fays the Brit. Hift.
which goes under the name of Geoffrey of Mon-
mouth, and I believe it will be in vain to look
for any more authentick genealogiſt of all that
family; he is there called Walganus. The Fr.
romancers, who have built upon Geoffrey's foun-
dations, agree in defcribing Gawain as a model
of knightly courtefy to this his eſtabliſhed
character our author alludes
Gayler, n. Fr. as gaiter
:
Geant, n. Fr. giant; the crane the geant
Gear, n. Sec gere
Gende, for gent
Genelon, pr. n. of one of Charlemagne's officers,
who by his treachery was the cauſe of the de-
feat at Roncevaux, the death of Roland, &c. for
which he was torn to pieces by horfes. This at
leaft is the account of the author who calls him-
felf Archbishop Turpin, and of the romancers
who followed him, upon whofe credit the name
of Genelon or Ganelon was for feveral centuries
centuries a fynonymous expreffion for the worſt
of traitors. Our Author alludes to his treache-
ry, and to his puniſhment. See alio Du. 1121.
Gent, dj. Fr. neat, pretty
Genteric, n. I. gentility
Gentil, dj.r. in its original fenfe means welborn,
of a noble family, "Il y avoit un Chevalier,
Capitaine de la ville-point gentilhomme n'
“eftoit:-et l'avoit fait, pour fa. vaillance, le
Roy Edouard Chevalier," 'roiffart, v. ii. c.
It is commonly put for civil, liberal, gen-
77.
tlemanlike
Gentileffe, n. r. follows the fignifications of gentil
Geomancie, n. r. divinations by figures made on
the earth
Gere, #. S2. all forts of inftruments; of cookery,
of war, of apparel, of chemiſtry; in hir quainte
geres, in their ftrange fathions
Gerie, gerful, changeable, probably from the Fr.
girer, to turn round: gierful
Gerlond, z. ir. a garland, the name of a dog
€83
GLOSSARY.
}
Geffe, v. Sax. to gueſs
Geſt, n. Sax. a gueſt
Geftes, n. pl. Lat. actions, adventures
Geſtour, n. a relater of jefts
Gloweden, pa. t. pl. of glow, v. Sax.
Gnarre, n. a hard knot in a tree
Gnat, n. Sav. is put for any little worthleſs thing
Gniding, part. pr. Sax. rubbing
Get, n. Fr. gefte, faſhion, behaviour; with that Gnoffe, n. an old cuff, a mifer, Gloff. Ur. I know
falſe get, with that cheating contrivance
Gethe, for goeth
Gie, v. Szx. to guide
Gigges, n. pl. irregular founds produced by the
wind, &c. Gigue, Ir fignified a muſical inftru-
ment like a fiddle, and from thence a fort of
light tune, Menage in v. It is probably a word
of Teutonic original. See Junius
Gilbertin, pr. n. an Engliſh phyſician of the 13th
century. See Fulbricius, Bibl. Med. Æt. in v.
Gilbertus de Aquilla
Gilt, part. pa. Sax. gilded, of the colour of gold
Gilt, n. Sax. guilt
Gilour, n. Fr. a deceiver
Gilte-les, adj. Sax. free from guilt
Giltif, adj. Sax. guilty, Conf. Am. 62, b.
Gin, n. Fr. engine, contrivance
Gingiber, n. Fr. ginger
Ginne, v. Sax. to begin
Gipciere, n. Fr. a pouch or purſe
Gipe, n. Fr. an upper frock or caflock
Gipon, n. Fr. a ſhort caflock
Girde, v. Sax. to ftrike, to fmite; this word is per-
haps the original of gride in Spenſer. See Obf.
on Spenf. v. ii. p. 62
Girdelſtede, n. Sax. the waift, the place of the gir-
dle
Girles, n. pl. Sax. young perfons either male or fe-
male
Girt, part. pa. of girde; thurgh girt, fmitten
through
Gifarme, n. Fr. a battleax. See Du Cange in Gi-
farma
Ġiſe, n. Fr. guiſe, faſhion; at his owen gife, in his
own manner, as he would with
Gite, n. Fr. a gown
Giterne, n. Fr. a guitar
Giterning, n. playing on a giterne
Glade, v. Sax. to make glad
Glader, n. one that maketh glad
Gladlom, adj. Sax. pleaſant
Glafe, for glofe
Glafe, v. Sax. to put glaſs into windows, Du. 323
Glafinge, . glaſswork, Du. 327
Gle, n. Sax. mirth, muſic; glees, pl. muſical inftru-
ments
Glede, n. Sax. a burning coal; gledes, pl. fparks of
fire
Gleire, n. Fr. the white of an egg
Glent. pa. t. glanced
Gleve, n. Fr. glaive, a lance
Glimfing, z. glimmering
Gliteren, par. t. pl. of gliter, v. Sax.
Glode, pa. t. of glide, v. Sax. the glode forth as an
adder doth, Conf. Am. 105
Glombe, v. Sax. to look gloomy
Gloſe. n. Fr. a comment or interpretation
Glofe, v. to comment or interpret, to ſpeak ten-
derly, to flatter
Gloton, n. Fr. a glutton
|
not upon what authority
Gnowe, pa. t. of gnawe, v Sax.
Go, v. Sar. means fometimes to walk, in contra-
diftinction to riding
Go, (gon) part. ‡a.
Gobbet, n. Fr. a morfel, a bit
God, n. Sax. God toforne, God going before; Deo
favente, Goddes armes two; Goddes bones, vul-
gar oaths. A' Goddes half. See Halfe
Gode, good, n. Sax. wealth, goods
Gode-les, adj. without money or goods
Godelyhede, n. Sax. goodneſs
Godeneſs, n. Sax. at godenefs, at advantage; and
fo we ſhould read where the editt. have at gode
mes, the orig. has en bon point
Godfib, n. Sav. a goffip, a godfather
Gofiſh, adj. foolish, from the Fr. goffe, dull ftupid
Gold, n. a flower commonly called a turnfol.
Gower fays that Leucothea was changed
Into a floure was named golde,
Whiche ftont governed of the fonne.
Conf. Am. 121. b.
Gold-hewen, adj. Sax. of a golden hue or colour
Goldſmithrie, n. Sav. goldfmiths work
Golet, n. Fr. the throat or guilet
Goliardeis, Fr. This jovial fect feems to have been
fo called from Golias, the real or affumed name
of a man of wit toward the end of the 12th
century. He wrote the Apocalypfis Gliæ, and
other pieces, in burleſque Latin rhymes, fome
of which have been falfely attributed to Walter
Map. Sec Tanner's Bibl. Brit. in v. Goliardus.
In feveral authors of the 12th century, quoted
by Du Cange the Goliardi are claffed with the
juculares et buffanes
Gomme, n. Fr. gum
Gon, inf. m. Sax. to go; fo mote I gon, fo may [
fare well; fo mote I ride or go, fo I fare
well riding or walking, i. e. in all my proceed-
ings. See Go.-Gon, par. t. pl. part. pa. gone,
Gonfanon, n. Fr. a banner or ftandard
Gong, n. Sax. a littlehouſe, a jakes
Gonne, n. a gun
Gonnen, goune, pa. t. pl. of ginne
may
Gore, n. It has been fuggefted to me by a learned
perfon, whom I have not the honour to know,
that gore is a common name for a flip of cloth
or linen, which is inferted in order to widen a
garment in any particular place. Gore of a
cloth, lacinia, Prompt. Parv. See alſo the glof-
fary to Kennet's Puroch. Antiq. in v. Gore. This
fenfe will fuit very well with the context, un-
lefs we fuppofe that gore is there put for fhirt,
becauſe ſhirts have ulually gores in them; the
expreffion would certainly be very aukward, and
unlike Chaucer's general manner, but in this
place (The Rime of Sire Thopas) he may be
GLOSSARY.
639
fuppofed to have taken it purpofely from one
of thoſe old romances which are the objects of
his ridicule.
Gofe, for goes, goeth
Gofpellere, n. Sax. evangeliſt
Goffomer, n. a thin cobweb-like fubftance which
flies about in the air
Goft, n. Sax. fpirit, mind
Goth, imp. d. perſ. pl. go ye
Governaille, n. Fr. government, ſteerage
Goune-cloth, cloth enough to make a gown
Gourd, n. a veffel to carry liquor, perhaps ſo call-
ed from its ſhape
Gower, pr. n. an eminent Engliſh poet, to whom
Chaucer directs his Troilus and Crefeide
Grace, n. Fr. favour; fory grace, harde grace,
misfortune
So full of forowe am I, fothe to ſayne,
That certainly no more hard grace
May fit on me, for why? there is no ſpace.
So Hercules, ap. Eurip. Hę.
Ieμas xaxwv In, x'exer' cod iżurida.
The criticiſm of Longinus, fect. xl. is perhaps
equally applicable to both paffages.-With
harde grace, is to be underſtood as fpoken in a
parentheſis of the cherl, misfortune attend him!
See With. Save your grace, with your favour,
Jauvre votre grace
Gracious, adj. Fr. agreeable, graceful
Grame, n. Sax. grief, anger; felle it to gode or
grame
Grammere, n. Fr. grammar
Grand mercie, Fr. great thanks
Grane, n. Fr. a grain, a fingie (ced
Grange, n. Fr. a farm-houſe
Grapinel, n. Fr. a grappling-iron
Gratche, is perhaps the fame with graithe, if not
miſtaken for it. Gloff. Ur. See Greithe. The
orig. has-f'aourne comme beguyne.
Graunſon, fr. n.
Grave, 4. Sax. to carve, to engrave
Grave, (graven) part. pa. buried
gre,
Gre, n. Fr. pleaſure, fatisfaction, from gratus,
Lat. to receive in gre, to take kindly; the
the prize. From gradus, Lat. it fignifies a Rep
or degree
Grede, ». Sax. a greedy perfon
Grede, v. barb. Lat. to cry
Grein, n.
Fr. grein de Paris, de Paradis, orig.
grains of Paradife, a fort of fpice; grain of
Partingale, a fort of fcarlet dye called kermes
or vermilion
Greithe, v. Sax. to prepare, make ready
Grenched, n. Sax. childiſhneſs
Grefe, n. Fr. greafe
Grete, for grede
Grette, pa. of grete, v. Sax. greeted, faluted
Greves, n. pl. Sux. groves
Grille, adj. Fr. horrible, grymm, gryl, and hor-
ryble; børridus, Prompt. Paro.
Grit, for grindeth
Grinte, pa. t. of grind, v. Sax. ground ; grint with
his teeth, grafhed with his teeth
Grinting, grinding, gualhing
Vol. 1.
|
Gris, n. Fr. a fpecies of fur
Grifly, adj. Sax, dreadful
Groche, v. Sux. to grutch, to marmur
Groff, adj. Sax. flat on the ground
Groine, n. Fr. the ſnowt of a fwine, a hanging lip
Groine, v. to hang the lip in diſcontent
Grone, v. Fr. to groan, to grunt
Gront, pa. t. groaned
Grope, v. Six. to fearch, to examine by feeling
Grot, z. a coin worth fourpence
Grounden, part. pa. of grind
Groyning,
Groyning, n. difcontent. See Groine
Guerdon, n. Fr. reward, recompenfe
Guerdon, v. to reward
Guerdonles, adj. without reward
Guido, pr. n. Guido de Columpnis, Guido dalle
Colonne, of Meflina in Sicily, a lawyer and a
poet, died about 1290. Quadrio, vol. li. p. 160.
His hiftory of the Trojan war, to which our
Author refers, was written in Latin, and fi-
nished in 1287. I have there intimated my
fufpicion that he tranflated it, for the mott
part, from a French romance of Benoit de
Sainte More. However that may have been,
Guido's work is certainly the original from
which the later writers of the middle ages
have generally taken their accounts of Trojan
affairs. It was tranflated into Italian in 1324
by Filippo Ceffi, a Florentine, [Quadris, vol.
vi. p. 475.] A French tranflation is alfo ex-
tant, in which it is faid to be " tranflatée, en
"François, premierement du commandement
"du Maire de la cité de Beauvais, en nom et
en honneur de Karles le Roy de France, l'an
"mil. ccc. quatre vingtz," [mf. Reg. 16 F. ix.]
This is probably the French tranflation men-
tioned by Lydgate in the Prologue to his Boke
of Troye, which is a mere paraphrafe in verfe
of Guido's hiftory, with fome digreffions and
adatious of his own. Lydgate's work was fi-
nifhed (as he tells us himfelf at the end) in
1420.
H.
Habergeon, n. Fr. a diminitive of hauberg, a coat
of mail
Habilitee, n. Fr. ability
Habitacles, a. pl. Fr. places of habitation
Habite, v. Fr. to awell
Habundant, part. pr. Fr. abundant
Hackenaie, . Fr. an ambling horſe or pad
Hacking, n. Fr. cutting in pieces
Hadden, pa. t. pl. of have
Hef, pa. f. of heve, v. Sex. heaved, raiſed
Haic, hay, n. Fr. a hedge
Haile, . Sax. health, welfare
Hailes, pr. n. of an abbey in Glouceſterſhire
Haire, . Fr. a haircloth
Hakeney, H. Fr. as hackenaie
Haketon, n. Fr. à fhort caffock without fleeves
Halden, for holden, part. pa. of hold
Halfe, n. Sax. a fide, a part; a' Goddes half, Dr.
370, on God's part, with God's favour; a' this
halfe God, on this fide of God; four halves,
four fides
Hali, ¡r. n. an Arabian physcian, Fabric. Bit!,
Gr. t. xiù. г. 17.
Xx
Ego
GLOSSAR Y.
Halke, n. Sux. a corner
Halpe, pa. t. of help,
Hals, n. Sax. the neck
v. Sax.
Halfe, v. Sax. to kifs round the neck-to con-
jure
Halt, pa. t. of hold, v. Sax. held or kept
Halt, for Holt, i. e. holdeth, Du. 621.
Halte, v. Fr. to go lamely, Du. 622.
Hame, for home, n. Sax.
Hamele, v. Sax. to hamstring, to cut off
Hamers, #. pl. Sux. hammers, Du. 1164.
Han, inf. m. of have, v. Sax.
Hanfelines, appears from the context to mean a
fort of breeches
Happe, n. Sax, chance
Happe, v. to happen
Hard, adj. Sax. hard; harde grace, misfortune.
See Grace. It is ufed adverbially
Harde, v. Sax. to make hard
Hardely, (hardily) adv. Fr. boldly, adv. Sex. cer-
tainly
Harding, n. Sax. hardening
Harie, . Fr. to hurry; to harie and drawe
Haried, part. pa. hurried; ils feroient buriez en
grand mancre. Froiffart, v. i. c. 225.
Harlot, n. was anciently applied to men as well as
women
Harlotries, n. pl. ribaldries
Harneis, n. Fr. armour, furniture
Harneife, v. Fr. to drefs
Harow, interj.
n.
Harpour, . Fr. a harpour. In the act of refump-
tion, 28 H. VI. there is a provifo in favour of
John Turges, harpour with the queen, for the
reverfion of an annuity of 10 marks, after the
death of William Langton minſtrel
Harwed, p. t. of harwe, v. Sax. harraffed, fubdued
Hafardour, n. Fr. a player at hazard, a gameſter
Haſardrie, n. Fr. gaming in general
Hafelwode. All the paffages in which this word
occurs plainly allude to the fame proverbial
faying, which appears to have been uſed in
fcorn or derifion of any improbable hope or ex-
pectation; why it was fo uſed is beyond my
reach to difcover: it may be proper, however,
to mention that in T. iii. 892, mf. Harl. 3943,
reads Hafelwode is fhaken-and that the pai-
fage, T. v. 1174, is an imitation of the follow-
ing in the Filoftrato.
Ma Pandero feco tacitamente
Ride di cio che Troylo dicea-
Chel fi fuffe fembiante facea
Di crederlo, e dicia, di mungibelo
Afpetta il vento quefto tapinello.
Haftif, adj. Fr. hafty
Haftifly, adv. haftily
Hate, v. Sax. to be named
Hauberk, n. Fr. a coat of mail
Haunce, v. Fr. to raife, to enhance
Haunt, n. Fr. cuſtom, practice
Haunte, v. Fr. to practife
Haunteden, pa. t. pl. practifed, frequented
Hautein, adj. Fr. haughty, loud, a hautein faucon,
a highflying hawk, faulcon haultain, Fr.
Haven, inf. m. of have, v. Sax.; it is more com-
monly abbreviated into han
Havoir, for avoir, n. Fr. wealth
Hawe, n. Sax. a hawthorn berry, a farmyard-}
churchyard
He, pron. Sax. is often prefixed in all its cafes to
proper names emphatically, according to the
Saxon ufage; he Mofes, he Tityus. He is al-
fo frequently uſed for it in all cafes
Hed, n. Sax. head; on his hed, on pain of lofing
his head
Hedde, for hidde, (hidden)
Hegges, n.pl. Sax. hedges
Heifugge, curruca, a little bird which is fuppofed
to hatch the cukoo's egg, and to be deſtroyed
by the young cukoos, Sp.
Hele, v. Sax. helan, to hide
Hele, v. Sax. hælan, to heal, to help
Hele, n. Sax. health
Heleles, adj. helpless
Helife, pr. n. Elyſium
Helmed, part. pa. Fr. armed with an helmet
Helowis, pr. n. Eloifa the miftrefs of Abelard.-
See a fummary of their hiſtory in Rom, de la
Rofe
Hem, obl. c. pl. of he, them. See Him
Hemfelf, hemfelve, hemfelven. See Self
Henchmen, m. pl. pages. See a note on the Mid-
fummer Night's Dream of Shakeſpeare, act. ii.
fc. 2. laft edit.
Hende, hendy, adj. Sax. civil, courteous
Henen, henne, hennes, hens, adv. Sax. hence
Heng, pa. t. and part. of hang
Hennesforth, adv. Sax. henceforth
Hente, v. Sax. to take hold of, to catch
Hent, pa. t. & part.
Hepe, n. Sax. a heap; to hepe; together, in a
heap the fruit of the dogrofe
Heraud, n. Fr. a herald
Herbergage, n. Fr. lodging
Herbergcours, n. pl. Fr. providers of lodgings,
harbingers
1
Herberwe, n. Sax. an inn, a lodging-the place of
the fun it rather means, I think, a harbour-
herber, an arbour
Herberwe, v. Sax, to lodge
Herd, hierde, n. Sax. a keeper-herdegromes,
fhepherd-boys
Herdes, n. pl. coarfe flax; herde, fibra lini, Kilian
That not of hempe ne heerdis was.
So this ver. is written in mf. Hunter; the orig.
has only-elle ne fut de bourras
Here, for hire, pron.
Here, adv. Sax. in this place
Here, in compofition, fignifies this, without in-
cluding any idea of place; hereagaines, againſt
this; herebeforn, before this
Here, v. Sax. to hear-Herd, herde, pa. t. & part.
Herden, pa. t. pl.
Here, n. Sux. hair
Heren, adj. made of hair
Herking, part. pr. of herke, v. Sax. hearkening
Hermes, pr. n. a chymical treatife under his name
is extant in the Theat. Chemic. t. iv. See Fabr.
Bibl. Gr. 1. I. c. 10. Hermes Ballenus, whether
a different perfon from him juft mentioned, I
cannot tell
Herne, n. Sav, a corner
1.
ง
GLOSSARY.
69L
Heronere, n. Fr. a hawk made to fly only at the
heron
Heronfewes, n. pl. Fr. young herons
Herte, for hurt, v. Sax. Du. 883
Hire, pron. poff. Sax. her
Hirefell, hirefelve, hirefelven. See Self
Hirs, pron. poff. Sax. theirs
Hiftorial, adj. Fr. hiftorical
Herte, n. Sax. heart; herteblood, heart's blood; Ho, interj. Fr. commanding a ceffation of any
herte-fpone
Herteles, adj. without courage
Hertly, adj. hearty
Hery, v. Sax. to praiſe
Herying, n. praiſe
Hefte, n. Sax. command-promiſe
Het, hette, pa. t. of hete, v. Sax, heated
Hete, v. Sax. to promife, to be called, Du. 200
See Highte
Hetheneffe, 7. Sax. country of heathens
Hething, ". Sax. contempt, all is thy hething fal-
len upon thee
Heve, . Sax. to heave, to raiſe-v. neut. to la-
bour
Heved, n. Sax. head; every virtue in my heved;
fo I apprehend this line thould be read, initead
of in me heved
Heven-quene, n. Sax. the queen of heaven, the
Virgin Mary
H:w of Lincoln, pr. n.
Hewe, v. Szx. to cut-v. neut. he that heweth to
hie, with chippes he may lefe his fight; fo in
the Conf. Am.
Full ofte he heweth up fo hye,
That chyppes fallen in his eye.
Hewe, n. Sax. colour, appearance
Hewed, part. pa. coloured
Hext, adj. fuperl. Sax. higheft; hegh, hegheft
heghft, hext. In the fame manner next is formi-
ed from negh
H·dous, adj. Fr. dreadful
Hidoufly, adv. terribly
Hie, v. Sax. to haften
Hie, z. hafte, diligence; in or on hie, in hafte
Hie, highe, adj. Sax. high
Hierdeffe, n. Sax. a fhepherdefs. See Herde
Highen is perhaps mifwritten for highe
action
Hochepot, a. Fr. a mixture of various things fha-
ken together in the fame pot
Hoker, n. Sax. frowardneſs
Hokerly, udo. frowardly
Hold, n. Sux. a fort or caftle
Hold, v. Sax. to keep; to hold in honde, to keep
in fufpenfe; to aniufe in order to deceive
Hold, holden, part. pa. obliged
Hole, hol, adj. Sax. catire, whole, found
Holly, adv. entirely, wholly
Holour, n. Sax, a whoremonger
Holt, n. Sax. a grove or foreft
Holt, for holdeth
Homly, adj. Sax. domeftic-plain, fimple
Homlinelle, a. Sax. domeſtic management, fami-
liarity
Honde, n. Sax. a hand; an honde-brede, an
hand's breadth; withouten honde, without be-
ing pulled by any hand-Honden, pl.
Honeft, adj. Fr. means generally, according to
the French ufage, creditable, honourable, be-
coming a perfon of rank
Honeftetee, honeſtee, n. Fr. virtue, decency-good
manners
Hong, v. Sax. to hang
Hont, z. Sax. Du. 385, as hunt
Hony-fwete, adj. Sax. ſweet as honey
Hope, v. Sax. to expect
Hoppeteres, n. pl. Sax. dancers
Hord, n. Sax, treaſure-a private place fit for the
keeping of treaſure
Hore, hoor, adj. Sax. hoary, gray
Horowe, adj. Sax, foul
Horriblete, n. Fr. horribleneſs
Hors, n. pl. Sax. horfes
Horfe, adj. Sax. hoarfe, Du. 347.
Horfly, adj. is applied to a horfe, as manly is to
a man
Hight, n. Sax. heighth, on hight feems to fignify Hofpitalers, n.. pl. Lat. religious perfons of both
-aloud, in a high voice; en baut, Fr.
Highte, v. Sax. called
Him, obl. c. of he, is often ufed alone in that reci-
procal fenfe, which is generally expreffed by
the addition of the adj. felf; than hath he don
his freud ne him no fhame, i. e. nor himſelf;
as he him laid; and clad him; and bare him.-
It is alfo frequently put without the ufual pre-
pofition; him to grete fhame; to great fhame
of him; the falleth him to fete, fhe falleth at
the feet of him; fhe fwore him, the fwore to
him : hem and hire are uſed in the fame manner
Himself, himfelve, himſelven. See Self
Hinderell, ſuperl, d. of hind, adv. Sax, hindmoſt
Hine, Sax. a fervant in bufbandry, a hind
Hine, n. Bal. Vil. 35, fhould probably be hiene :
the gall of an hyena was uſed to cure a certain
diforder of the eye, Plin. N. H. 1. xxix. c. 38.
Hippocras, pr. n. Hippocrates
Hir, pron. pof. Sax. their
Hire, ebl. c. of the, pron. Sax. is often put for her-
felf, and without the ufual prepoûtion. See
Him
fexes who attended the fick in hofpitals-
knights Hofpitalers of different orders. See
Du Cange in v. Hoſpitalarius
Hoſt, n. Fr. an army
Hoftelere, n. Fr. an innkeeper
Hoſtelrie, n. Fr. an inn or lodging-houfe
Hoftilements, 7. pl. houſehold furniture
Hote, adj. Sax. hot
Hote, hoten, part. pa. of hete, called
Hove, v. Sax, to hover
Hound-fifh, ". Sax. the dog-fiſh
Houne, n. for hound, thus faid both here and
houne, i. . hare and hound, all forts of peo-
ple
Houped, pa. t. Fr. hooped or hollowed
Houfel, n. Sax. the eucharift
Houfel, v. to adminifter the facrament-to ben
houfeled, to receive the facrament
Howve, n. Sax. a cap or hood
Hulfere, n. Sax. holly
Hulfred, part. pa. Sax. hidden
Humblehede, n, Sax. humble ftate
Xx A
6gz
GLOSSAR Y.
Humbleffe, n. Fr. humility
Humbling, n. a humming; bommelen bombilari,
bombum edere, Kilian; hence our humble-bee
Hunt, n. Sax. a huntſman
Hurtle, v. Fr. to push
Hufbandrie, n. Sax. thrift, economical manage-
ment
Huſbond-man, n. Sax. the mafter of the family
Huft, adj. Sax. filent, whift
Hylde, v. Szx. to pour
Hylled, part. pa. Sax. hidden. See Hele
I.
1, at the beginning of a word, in the common
edit. and even the mf. of Chaucer, is often uſed
to express a corruption of the Saxon prepofi-
tive particle Ge, which in this edit. of The
Canterbury Tales, is always expreffed by y;
all fuch words therefore occurring in the Works
of Chaucer not contained in this edition, ſhould
be looked for either under 3 or under their fe-
cond letters
Jacobin, pr. n. a gray frier
Jacke Straw, pr. n. the noiſe made by the follow-
ers of this rebel, to which our Author alludes,
he had probably heard himſelf; it is called by
Walfingham, p. 251; "Clamor horrendiffimus,
"non fimilis clamoribus ques edere folent ho-
"mines, fed qui ultra omnem æftimationen
"fuperaret omnes clamores humanos, et maxi-
"me poffet aflimulari ululatibus infernalium
"incolarum." Many Flemings (Flandrenfes)
were beheaded by the rebels cum clamore confue-
to. Walfingham, ibid.
Jambeaux, n. pl. Fr. boots, armour for the legs
Jane, n. a coin of (Janua) Genoa; it is put for
any fmall coin
Jangle, v. Fr. to prate, to talk much or faft
Jangle, n. prate,
7. prate, babble
Jangler, janglour, n. a prazer
Janglereffe,
n. a female prater
Jape, n. Sax. a trick, a jeft
Jape, v. to jest-to cheat, to laugh at
Japer, . a common jefter or buffoon
Japerie, n. buffoonery
Jape-worthy, adj. ridiculous
Ich, iche, pron. Sax. I. fo the ich, fo the iche, fo
may I profper
Idel, adj. Sax. idle, fruitlefs; in idel, in vain
Idolaftre, n. Fr. an idolater
Jeopard, v. to hazard, to put in danger
Jeopardie, n. danger
Jeoper life, Du. 666.
Jeremie, pr. n. Jeremiah
Jerome, pr. n.
Our Author has made much uſe
of a treatife of St. Jerome contra Jovinianum
Jeftes, n. pl. as geftes
Jewerie, n. Fr. a diftrict inhabited by Jews
Jewife, n. judgment, punishment; it may have
been formed by corruption either of the Lat.
judicium or the Fr justice
Ik, fren. Sax. I. See Ich
Ilion, fr. . the citadel of Troy
lke, j. Sax. fame
Imaginatif, asj. Fr. fufpicions
|
|
Imped, part. pa. Sax. planted
Impes, n. pl. Sax. fhoots of trees
Impetren, pr. t. pl. Fr. obtain by prayer
Importable, adj. Fr. intolerable-impoffible
Importune, adj. Fr. troubleſome
Impoffible, adj Fr. ufed as a fubftantive
In, prep. Sax. upon, in with, within
Incombrous, adj. Fr. cumberſome
Inconftance, n. Fr. inconftancy
Inde, adj. Fr. azure-coloured
Indigne, adj. Fr. unworthy
Ineched, part. pa. Sax. inferted
Inequal, adj. Fr. unequal
Infortunat, adj. Lat. unfortunate
Infortune, n. Fr. misfortune
Ingot, n. a mould for cafting ingots
Inhabit, part. pa. Fr. inhabited
Inhilde, v. Sax. to pour in. See Hylde
Injure, n. Fr. injury
Inly, adv. Sax. inwardly, deeply, thoroughly
Inne, prep. Sax, in
Inne, in, n. Sax, a houſe, habitation, lodging
Inned, part. pa. Sax. lodged
Innerefte, adj. fup. Sax. inmoſt
Innocent, adj. Fr. ignorant
Infeled, part. pa. Fr. atteſted under ſeal
Infet, part. pa. Sax. implanted
Interminable, adj. Fr. infinite
Inwitte, n. Sax. understanding
Joce, pr. z. or Joffe-Sanctus Judocus was a faint
of Ponthieu. Vocab. Hagiol. prefixed to Me-
nage, Etymol. Fr.
Joconde, adj. Fr. joyous, pleaſant
Jogelour, n. Fr. a juggler
Joinant, part. pr. Fr. joining
Joine, v. Fr. to enjoin
Jolie Robin, the name of a dance, de la danſe li
Beau Robin, orig.
Jolif, adj. Fr. jolly, joyful
Jombre, v. to junible
Jonglerie, n. fhould rather be janglerie, idle talk.
See Jangle
Joffa, interj. feems to be partly formed from the
Fr. ea, come hither
Jovis, pr. n.
Jupiter
Journée, Fr. a day's journey, a day's work
Jouites, n. pl. Fr. jutts
jowcles, n. pl. Fr. jewels
Joye, v. Fr. to enjoy
Ipocras, n Fr. wine mixed with ſpices and other
ingredients, fo named, becauſe it is ftrained
through a woollen cloth called the fleeve of Hip-
pocrates. See Clarre
Ire, n. Fr. anger
Irous, adj. paffionate
lfaude, pr. n. See Belle Ifaude-She is called
1/eut by Bernard da Ventador, mf. Croft.,
fol. 67;
Tant trag pena d'amor,
Q'anc Trifton l'amador
Non foiret maior dolor
Per Jeut la blonda.
And fo in Fabliaux, &c. t. i. p. 242; Your la
blinde. Petrarch calls her fotta, Trionfo as
Aore, iii. 82. A late French writer, in wha
Le has been pleafed to ftyle Hifleire literaire &
LOSSARY,
693
Troubadours, [t. ii. p. 323,] having quoted a
paſſage celebrating the love of Triſtan à Iſault,
adds very coolly-C'est une allusion à quelque
Roman; which is juſt as if a commentator up-
on Ovid fhould fay of the epiftle from Paris to
Helen, that it alludes to fome Greek ſtory
It, pron. 3d perf. neut, gend. Sax. is ufed inſtead of
he and the
Itaille, pr. n. Italy
Jubaltare, pr. n. Gibraltar
Jubbe, n. a veſſel for holding ale or wine
Judicum, the book of Judges; fo Metamorphofeos
is put for the Metamorphofis of Ovid, and
Eneidos for the Æneis of Virgil
Juge, n. Fr. a judge
Juil, pr. n. the mouth of July
Julian, pr. n.
Jupardie, n. as jeopardie
Jupartie, n. Fr. jeopardy
Juftice, n. Fr. a judge
Juftinian, pr. z. The law referred to is in the
n.
Code, 1. xi. tit. 25, De medicantibus validis
Juvenal, pr. n. the Roman ſatiriſt
K.
Kalender, n. Lat. a calendar, a guide or director
Kalendes, n. pl. Lat. the first day of the month,
the beginning of any thing
Kaynard, z. a term of reproach
Kele, v. Sax. too cool
Kembed, kemped, part. pa. Six. combed
Kemelin, n. Sax. a tub
Cotg. in v. Mataffiner des mains and Niquet-
trifling words, p. 215
Knappe, n. a fhort fleep, a nap
Knarry, adj. Sax. full of gnarres or knots
Knave, n. Sax, a fervant, properly a boy-fervant-
a knave-child, a male child-this boie kaave,
ce garcon, orig.
Knedde, part. pa. of knede, v. Sax. kneaded
Kneen, knene, n. pl. Sax. knees
Knet, part. pa. as knit
Knight, n. Sax. a fervant, generally a ſervant in
war, a foldier-1 dubbed knight
Knighthode, n. valour
Knit, part. pa. Sax. joined, bound-agreed
Knobbes, n. pl. Sax. excrefcencies in the shape of
buds or buttons. See Knoppe
Knoppe, n. Sax. a button-i roſebud
Knopped, part. pa. buttoned, faſtened
Knotte, n. Sax. a knot: in fome inftances it is uf-
ed in the ſenſe of noeud, Fr. for the chief point
or head of a matter
Knotteles, adj. Sax. without a knot, without any
thing to obftruct or retard the paffage
Knowe, for knee
Knowleche, v. Sax. to acknowledge
Knowleching, #. knowledge
Konning, z. as conning, cunging
Kyke, . Sax. to look ſteadfaſtly; kijcken, Teut
Spe@are, Kilian
L.
Labbe, n. a blab, a great talker
Kenelm, pr. n. See his life in all the edit. of the Labbing, part. pr. blabbing
English Golden Legend
Kepe, n. Sax. care, attention
Kepe, v. to take care
Kerchef, n. a corruption of coverchief
Kernels, n. pl. F. battlements
Kers, n. Sax. watercreffes; of paramours ne raught
he not a kers, he cared not a rush for love:
creffe is uſed in the fame ſenſe
Kerver, n. Six. a carver
Keffe, v. Sax. to kiſs
Keſte, pa. t. kiſſed
Ketche, v. T. iii. as cacche
Kevere, v. Fr. to cover, it fignifies to cover
Kichel, n. Sax. a little cake
Kid, kidde, pa. t. & part. of kithe, made known,
difcovered
Kike, v. Sax. to kick
Kin, n. Sax, kindred; by my fader kin, by my fa-
ther's kindred
Kin, adj. of the fame nature
Kind, n. Sax. nature
Kindly, adv. naturally
Kinrede, n. kindred
Kirtel, n. Sux. a tunick or waistcoat, in kirtels
and none other wede; qui efloient en pure cottes,
orig.
Kithe, v. Sax. to fhew, to make known, ne kithe
hire jaloufie, nor fhew to her any jealouſy
Kithed, part. pa. See Kid
Kitte, pa. t. Sax. cut
Knakkes, n. pl. Sax. trifling tricks: the word
feems to have been formed from the knacking |
or ſnapping of the fingers uſed by jugglers. See
Laced, part. pa. Fr. tied, bound
Lacert, n. Fr. a flefay mufcle, fo termed from its
having a tail like a lizard
Lache, adj. Fr. fluggiſh
Lacheffe, n. Fr. flackneſs, negligence
| Lad, ladde, pa. t. of lede, v. Sax. led, carried
Laft, pa. t. & part. of leve, v. Sax, left
Lзie, n. T. i. as lay
Laied, part. pa. of lay, v. Sax.; with orfreys laied,
i. e. trimmed: fo this word is frequently uſed
by Hollinfhed, vol. iii. p. 1317; laid with gold
lace-laid on with red like and gold lace-
laid about with filver lace. See Couched
Laine, inf. v. Six. to lay
Lainers, n. pl. Fr. ftraps or thongs
Lake, n. it is difficult to fay what fort of cloth is
meant; laeken, Belg. fignifies both linen and
woollen cloth, Kilian
Lakke, n. Sax. a fault, a diſgraceful action, want
Lakke, . to find fault, to blame
Lamben, n. pl. Sax. lambs
Langure, v. Fr. to languiſh
Lapidaire, a treatife on precious ſtones ſo entitled;
probably a French tranflation of the Latin
poem of Marbodus De Gemmis, which is fre-
quently cited by the name of Lapidarius, Fa-
bric. Bibl. Med. Æt. in v. Marbodus
Lappe, n. Sax, a fkirt or lappet of a garment
Large, adj. Fr. ſpacious, free, prodigal; at large,
at liberty; til that was prime large, till prime
was far pent
Largely, adv. fully
Las, n. Fr. a lace-a fnare
X x iij
634
GLOSSARY.
Laffe, las, adj. comp. Sax. lefs
Latche, n. as las
Latered, part. pa. Sax. delayed
Lathe, n. a barn; it is ftill ufed in Lincolnshire,
Sk. In, F. iii. where the edit. have rathe and
fathe, the mff. give the true reading--lathe
Laton, n. Fr. a kind of mixed metal of the colour
of brafs
Laude, n. Lat. praiſe
Laudes, the fervice performed in the fourth or
laft watch of the night; " dicuntur autem lau-
"des, quod illud officium laudem præcipue
"fonat divinam," &c. Du Cange in v. Laus 2.
'The fame fervice was often called Matins.
Idem in v. Matutini
Laved, part. pa. Fr. drawn; fpoken of water ta-
ken out of a well
Lavender, n. Fr. a washerwoman or laundrefs.
In the paffage of Dante which is here quoted,
Envy is called
La meretrice, che mai dall' ofpizio
Di Cefare non torfe gli occhi putti,
Morte commune, e delle corte vizio.
Inf. xiii. 64.
Laverock, n. Sax. a lark
Launcegay, n. a fort of launce
Launcelot du Leke, an eminent knight of the
Round Table, whofe adventures were the fub-
ject of a romance begun by Chreftien de Troyes,
one of the oldeft of the romance poets, and fi-
nished by Godefrois de Leigni. See Fauchet,
1. ii. c. 1o, 11. They have been repeatedly
printed in French profe, and make a confider-
able part of the compilation called Mort d'
Arthur his accomplishments as a courtier and
a man of gallantry have been alluded to before.
Signor Volpi, in his notes upon Dante, Inf. v.
128, has mioft unaccountably reprefented Lan-
cilotto as inamorato di Ginevra, moglie del Re
Marco. If there be any faith in hiftory, Gi-
nevra was the wife of King Arthur. The fto-
ry in Dante, which is the occafion of Signor
Volpi's note, is a curious one; it is alluded to
by Petrarch, Trionfo d' Amore, iîi. 82;
:
Vedi Ginevra, Ifotta, e l' altre amanti,
E la coppia d' Ariming.
Launde, n. Fr. a plain not ploughed
Lavoures, n. pl. Fr. lavers
Laureat, adj. Lat. crowned with laurel
Laureole, n. Fr. fpurge-laurel
Laurer, n, laurel
Laus, adj. Sax. loofe; laus, Ifland. folutus. This
is the true original of that termination of ad-
jectives fo frequent in our language in les or
lefs. Confuetud. de Beverly, mf. Harl. 550. "Hujus
facrilegii emenda non erat determinata, fed
"dicebatur ab Anglis Botalaus, i. e. fine emen-
" dâ." So Chaucer ufes botcles, and other
words of the fame form, as detteles, drinkeles,
gilteles, &c.
Lawe, adj. tor low
Laxatif, n. Fr. a purging medicine
Lay, n. Sax. law, religious profeflion
Lay, n. Fr. a fpecies of pocin
Lay, pa. t. of lie, or ligge layen, pl.
Lazar, n. Fr. a leper
Leche, n. Sax. a phyſician; leche-craft, the ſkill
of a phyfician
Leche, v. to heal
Lecherous, adj. provoking lechery
Lechour, n. Fr. a lecher
Leclorne, n. Lat. a reading-desk
Leden, n. Sux. language
Ledge, v. as allege
Lees, n. Fr. a leath by which dogs are held
Lees, adj. Sux. falle; withouten lees, without ly
ing, truly
Lefe, adj. Sax. pleafing, agreeable; al be him
lothe or lefe, though it be unpleafing to him
or pleafing for lefe ne lothe, for friend nor
enemy; he turned not-for leve ne for lothe.
It fometimes fignifies pleafed; I n'am not lefe
to gabbe, I am not pleafed to prate, I take no
pleafure in prating
Leiuli, adj. lawful
Legge, v. Sux. to lay
Legge, v. Fr. to cafe, as alege
Leie, v. Sax. to lay
Leifer, n. Fr. l:ifure, opportunity
Leite, n. Sax. light; thonder-leite, lightning
Leke, n. Sax. a leek; it is put for any thing of
very fmall value
Lemes, n. pl. Sax, flames
Lemman, n. Sax. a lover or gallant, a miſtreſs
Lendes, n. pl. Sux. the loins
Lene, adj. Sax, lean
Lene, v. Sax. to lend, to grant
Lenger, adv. comp. Sax. longer
Lente, pa. t. of lene
Lenton, . Sax, the feafon of Lent
L'envoy, Fr. was a fort of poſtſcript fent with
poetical compofitions, and ferving either to re-
commend them to the attention of fome parti-
cular perfon, or to enforce what we call the
moral of them. The fix laft ftanzas of The
Clerkes Tale are in many mff. entitled L'envoy
de Chaucer à les marix de notre temps. See aito
the ftanzas at the end of The Complaint of the
Black Knight, and of Chaucer's Dreme
Leom, n. Lat. a lion
Leonine, adj. belonging to a lion'
Leopart, lepart, n. Fr. a leopard
Leos, n. Gr. people
Lepande, part. pr. of lepe, v. Sax. leaping
Lepe, lep, for lepeth, ad perf. fing.
for leped, pa. to
Lepe, pr. n. a town in Spain
Lere, lerne, v. Sax. to learn, to teach-Lered,
p. t. & part.
Lere, n. Sax. the fkin
Lefe, n. Fr. as lees; in luftie lefe, in love's leaſh
Lefe, adj. Sax, as lees
Life, v. Sax. to lofe
Lefeth, 2d perf. pl. imp. m. lofe ye
Lefing, n. Sax. a lie, à falfity
Lefinges, pl.
Left, lift, luft, n. Sax. pleaſure
Lefte, lifte, lufte, v. to pleafe; it is generally uſed
as an imperfonal, in the third perfon only, for
it pleaſeth or it pleafed; him lufte to ride fo,
it pleafed him to ride fo; wel to drink us lefte,
it pleafed us well to drink; if you left, if iç
please you; me lift not play, it picafeth me not
to play
GLOSSARY.
695
Lefte, adj. Sax. fuperl. d. leaſt, at the lefte way, at | Liking, part. pr. pleaſing
the lefte, at leaſt
Lefte, for laft
Let, v. Sux. to leave, to omit; to leave, to per-
mit; let thy japes be; let the Sompaour be,
to caufe, to hinder
Lete, pr. n. the river Lethe
Letgame, n. Sux. a hinderer of pleaſure
Lette, n. delay, hinderance
Lettowe, fr. n. Lithuania
Lettred, adj. Fr. learned
Lettrure, letterure, n. Fr. literature
Lettuarie, n. Fr. an electuary
Leve, v. for live
Leve, n. Six. defire, inclination
Leve, adj. dear. See Lefe
Leve, v. Sax. to believe-Leveth, imp. m. 2d perf.
pl.; leveth me, believeth me; leveth is mil
printed for lefeth
He lefeth more than ye may doe.
So this verfe fhould be written:
Liking, . pleaſure
Limaile, n. Fr. filings of any metal
Lime, v. Sax. to fmear as with birdlime
Limed, part. pa. caught as with birdlime
Limed, part. pa. Fr, polished as with a file
Limer, n. Fr. limier, a bloodhound, Du. 362, 5.
Lime-rod, a twig with birdlime
Limitation, a. Lat. a certain precinct allowed to a
limitour
Limitour, n. a friar licenſed to beg within a cer-
tain diftri&
Limmes, a. pl. Sax. limbs
Linage, n. Fr. family
Linde, n Sax. the limetree
Liffe, n. Six. remiffion, abatement
Liffe, v. nrut. Sax. to grow eaſy
Liffed, part. pa. of liffe, v. Sax. eaſed, relieved
Lifte, v. See Lefte
Lifteneth, imp. m. 3d perf. fl. of liften, v. Sax.
hearken ye
Liftes, n. pl. Fr. lifts, a place encloſed for com ;
bats, &c.
Litargo, n. Fr. white lead
Plus y pert-il que vous ne faites.
Leve is alfo mifprinted for lene
Leveles, adj. Sax. without leave
Leven, n. Sax. lightning
Orig.
Lite, adj. Sax. little
Lever, comp. d. of lefe, more agreeable; it were
me lever, I hadde lever, hire hadde lever
Leveſell, n. a leafy feat, an arbour. I am by no
means fatisfied with the explanation here given
of this word, the interpretation of it in the
Prompt. Purv. will not help us much; "Leve-
"cel beforn a windowe or other place, umbra-
"culum"
Lewed, lewde, adj. Sax. ignorant, unlearned, laf-
civious
Leye, v. Sax. as legge, to lay, to lay a wager
Leyes, pr. ». Layas in Armenia
Leyte, n. Sux. flame. See Leite
Liard, pr. n. belonged originally to a horfe of a
gray colour
Licenciat, n. Lat. feems to fignify that he was li-
cenfed by the Pope to hear confefſions, &c. in
all places, independently of the local ordinaries
Liche-wake, n. the cuftom of watching with dead
bodies
Lide, pr. n. Lydia
Lieges, n. pl. Fr. fubjects
Lien, pr. t. pl. of lie or ligge
Lien, part. pa. of lie or ligge, lain
Lies, n. pl. Fr. lees of wine, &c.
Lieth is mifprinted for leyeth
Lifly, adv. Sax. like the life
Ligeance, n. Fr. allegiance
Ligge, lie, v. neut. Sax. to lie down
Ligging, part. pr. lying
Light, v. Sux. to enlighten-to make light or
pleafant-v. neut. to defcend, to alight
Ligne, z. Fr. lineage, lineal defcent; ligine ſhould
probably be lignee, to rhyme to compagnee
Ligne aloes, lignum aloes, a very bitter drug
Like, liken, v. Sux. to compare
Like, v. Sax. to pleaſe; if you liketh, if it pleaf-
eth you; it liketh hem, it pleaſeth them
Likerous, adj. Saw. gluttonous, lafcivious
Lith, n. Six. a limb
Lith, for lieth
Lithe, adj. Sax. foft, flexible, Du. 953.
Lithe, v. Sax. to foften
Lither, adj. Sax, wicked; [in the edit. it is lithy,]
luther and quede. See Quade
Litherly, adv. Sax. very ili
Litling, Sax. very little
Livand, part. pr. Sax. living
Live, n. Sax. life; on live, in life, alive; lives
creature, living creature; lives body, living body
See the ftatute 3 Geo. I. c. 13,
where loadmanage is ufed re-
peatedly in the fenfe of pilotage
Lodemanage,
Lodefterre,
Lodefmen, n. pl. Sax. pilots
Loit, adv. Sax. on loft, on high, aloft
Loge, n. Fr. a lodge, habitation
Logged, part. pa. Fr. lodged
Logging, n. lodging
Loke, v. Sax. to fee, to look upon
Loken, Loke, part. pa. of loke, v. Sux. locked,
fhut clofe, Conf. Am. 29, his one eye anon was
loke
Loller, n. a lollard
Lollius, pr. n. a writer from whom Chaucer pro-
feffes to have tranflated his poem of Troilus
and Crefeide
Londe, n. Sax. land
Londenoys, a Londoner, one born in London
Lone, n. Sax. a loan, any thing lent
Long, v. Sax. to belong; longing for his art, be-
longing to his art, to defire
Long. See Along
Loos, los, ». Fr. praife; lofes, pl.
Lord, a. Sax. a title of honour given to monks,
as well as to other perfons of fuperiour rank;
lordes is uſed in the ſenſe of lordings
Lordings, n. pl. firs, mafters, a diminutive of
lerds
Lordship, n. Sax. fupreme power
Lore, n. Sax, knowledge, doctrine, advice
Lorel, n. Sux. a good-for-nothing fellow. Skin-
ner fuppofes it to be derived from the Lat,
Xx iiij
696
GLOSSARY.
Burco; and in the Promptorium Parvulorum lofel,
or lorel, or lurden, is rendered lurco; but lurco,
1 apprehend, fignifies only a glutton, which
falls very fhort of our idea of a lorel; and be-
fides, I do not believe that the word was ever
fufficiently common in Latin to give rife to a
derivative in Engliſh. One of Skinner's friends
deduces it with much more probability from
the Belg. [rather Sax.] loren, loft, perditus,
Lorne, part. pa, of lefe, v. Sax. loft, undoņe
Los, n. Sax. lofs
Lofed, part. pa. Sax, loofed
Lofed, part. pa. Fr. praifed
Lofenge, n. Fr. a quadrilateral figure of equal
fides but unequal angles, in which the arms of
women are uſually painted; lofynges feems to
fignify fmall figures of the fame form in the
fret-work of a crown
Lofengeour, n. Fr. a flatterer
Loteby, n. in the orig. campaigne, a private com-
panion or bedfellow; the concubines of priests
are called their lotebies; perhaps it may be de-
rived from the Sax. loute, to lurk
Loth, adj. Sax. difagreeable, odious
Lother, comp. d. more hateful
Lotheft, fuperl. d. moft unwilling
Lothly, adj. loathfome
Love-dayes, n. pl. a day appointed for the amicable
fettlement of differences, was called a love-day
Love-drinke, a. Sax. a drink to excite love
Love-longing, n. Sax. defire of love
Lovefome, adj. Sax. lovely
Lough, pa. t. of laugh, v. Sax. laughed
Louke. In Pierce Plough. 20, wrong is called
a wicked luke, and I learn from Cotgrave,
that lufke is a fynonymous word to lowt, lo-
rel, &c.; fo that perhaps louke may be ftill an-
other term for an idle good-for-nothing fel-
low. See Cotg. in v. Luke, Eng. and in v.
Loricard, Falour din, Fr.
Loure, v. neut. Şıx. to look difcontented
Louring, part. pr.
Loute, v. Sax. to bow, to lurk
Low, n. for law
1
Lowlyhede, n. Sax. humility
Lucan, pr. n. the Roman poet
Luce, n. Lat. the fish called a pike
Lucina, pr. n. the moon
Lulled, pa. t. of lull, v. Sex. invited to fleep
Lumbardes, n. pl. bankers, remitters of money
Lunarie, pr. n. of a herb, moonwort
Lere, n. Fr. a device ufed by falconers for calling
their hawks
Lure, v. Fr. to bring to the lure
Lustheburghes, bafe coins, probably firft import-
ed, as Skinner thinks, from Luxembourgh.
They are mentioned in the Stat. 25. E. III. c.
2. "La monoie appellé Lucynbourg," and in
Pierce Plough. fol. 82. b.
As in Luthburgh is a luther alay, yet loketh
likę Sterling,
Luft, n.
See Left
Lufte, v. See Lefte
Luftyhede, n. Sax. pieafure, mirth
Luxurie, n. Fr. lechery
Lynian, pr.n. a learned correfpondent, to whom I
am obliged for other ufefe 1 hints, has fuggefted
to me that Fabricius, upon the authority of Ghi
lini, has placed the death of Joannes Lignanus,
in 1383, Bibl. Med. t. in v. This furnifhes:
an additional reafon for believing that The
Canterbury Tales were compofed, or at leaſt
collected into a body, after that period
Mace, n. Fr. a club
M.
1
Machabe, pr. n. the books of the Maccabees
Macrobes, pr. n. Microbius, Du. 284; the author
of the commentary on the Somnium Scipionis
of Cicero
Madde, v. Sax. to be mad
<C
Madrian. I have found that the French have a
faint called Materne--but Mr. Steevens, with
much more probability, fuppofes that the pre-
cious body by which the Hoft fwears was that
of St. Mathurin. See his ftory in The Golden
Legende, edit. 1527, by Winkin de Worde,
151, b.: "Than toke they the precious body,
"and enoynted it with moche reverence; and
"when they had laid it in the erth, on the
morowe they came to the fepulture and
found the holy body above the erth nigh un-
"to the faine fepulture, and than were they
"all abasfhed, and wyft not what to do." It
feems the knights who had brought him out of
France had promifed that if he died on his
journey he should be fent back and buried
"where as they had taken him," and there-
fore his body would not stay in the ground till
it was depofited, according to promife, in
France, where it afterwards worked many mi-
racles
Mafeie, Fr. ma foy, by my faith
Magicien, n. Fr. a magician
Magike, n. Fr. magic; magike, natural
Mahowed, pr. 7. Mahomet.
Maille, n. Fr. a coat of mail
Mainte, part. pa. as meint
1
1
See Du Cange in v
Maintenance, n. Fr. behaviour, Du. 834.
Maifondewe, Fr. maifondieu, an hofpital
Maiſter, n. Fr. a ſkilful artiſt, a maiſter; maiſter-
ftrete, the chief ftreet; maffter-temple, the
chief temple; maifter-tour, the principal tower
Maifterful, adj. imperious
Maifterie, maiftrie, n. Fr. fkill, ſkilful manage
meat, power, fuperiority
Love wol not be conftreined by maiſtrie.
Whan maiftcie cometh the god of love anon
Beteth his winges, and farewell he is gon.
I cite thefe elegant lines as I omitted to obferve
before that Spenfer has inferted them in the
Faery Queen, b. ii. c. 1, ft. 25, with very little
alteration, and certainly without any improves
ment:
Ne may love be compell'd by mastery,
For foon as maftery comes fweet love anone
Taketh his nimble wings, and foon away is
gone.
A maiftrie, a mafterly operation; un coup de
maitre, for the maiſtrie
Maiftreffe, n. Fr. miftrefs, governeſs
,
1
!
اخترک
GLOSSARY.
Maiftrife, n. Fr. mafterly workmanſhip
Make, n. Sax. a fellow, a mate, a hufband, a
wife; make or metche, compar. Prompt. Parv.
Make, v. Sax. to compofe or make verfes, to fo-
lace him fometimes as I do whan I make,
Pierce Plough. 60. to make a man's berde, to
cheat him
Make, why make ye your backes! we fhould
read-nake, i. e. make naked; cur inertes terga
nudatis? orig.
Maked, part. pa, made
Makelefs, adj. Sax. peerlefs, without a fellow
Making, n. poetry; makinges, pl. poetical com-
pofitions; and thou medleft with makings,
Pierce Plough. 60.
Malapert, adj. pert, forward; the word feems to
be evidently of French original, though I do
not recollect to have feen it ufed by any French
writer. Appert, adj. Fr. fignifies expert, &c.
Cotgrave
Male, n. Fr. a budget or portmanteau
Malefice, n. Fr. enchantment
Male-talent, n. Fr. ill-will
Na
Malifon
malifoun
Fr. malediction, curfe; I gyve it my
Malt, pa. t. of melt, v. Sax. melted
Malvefie, pr. n. Malmſey wine
Malure, n. Fr. misfortune
Manace, n. Fr. a threat
Manace, v. to threaten
Manacing, n. threatening
Manciple, n. an officer who has the care of pur-
chafing victuals for an inn of court. The name
is probably derived from the Lat. manceps,
which fignified particularly the fuperintendant
of a public bakehouſe, and from thence a baker
in general. See Du Cange in v. Maneps 2.
The office ftill fubfifts in feveral colleges as
well as inns of court.
Mandement, n. Fr. mandate
Manere, n. Fr. carriage, behaviour, kind or fort;
a manere Latin, a kind of Latin; fwiche a ma-
ner love-drinke, fuch a fort of love-potion;
fwiche maner rime
!
Mangonel, n. Fr. an engine uſed to batter walls
Manie, n, Fr. Gr. madneſs
Mannifh, adj. Sax. human, proper to the human
fpecies-mafculine, proper to man as diftin-
guished from woman; in this laft fenfe when
applied to a woman it is a ftrong term of re-
proach
Manor, n. Fr. dwelling, Du. 1004.
Manfuete, adj. Fr. gentle
Mantelet, n. Fr. a fhort mantle
Marcian, pr. n. Martianus Capella
Marcian, adj. martial, under the influence of
Mars
Mareis, n. Fr. a marsh
Margarite, n. Fr. a pearl
Marie, mary, n. Sux. marrow; marie-bones, mar-
rowbones
Market-beter, I am enclined to believe that this
word is to be underſtood in a fenfe fimilar to
that in which the Fr. phrafes Batreles rues-
and Bateur de pavez, are uſed; Batre les rues,
to revel, jet, or fwagger, up and down the
streets anights; Bateur de pavez, a jetter abroad
in the ſtreets-a pavement-beater. See Cot-
697
grave in v. Bateur, Batre, Pave; fo that he
was a market-beter atte, full, may mean per-
haps he was uſed to fwagger up and down
the market when it was fulleft-a circumſtance
which fuits very well with the rest of his cha-
racter :-Market-dachar, circumforaneus, Prompt.
Parv.
Markis, n. Fr. a marquis
Markis, for markifes, gen. ca. fing.; in the fame
manner Peneus is put for Peneufes; Thefeus
for Thefeuſes; Venus for Venufes; Ceres for
Cerefes; Melibeus for Melibeufes: Perhaps it
might have been proper to add a mark of apo-
cope to the words fo abbreviated. As to the
prefent method of expreffing the genitive cafes
of nouns ending in s by adding another s with
a mark of fyncope, as Peneus's, Thefeus's, Ve-
nus's, &c. it ſeems abfurd, whether the addi-
tion be intended to be pronounced or not. In
the firſt cafe the e fhould not be cut out; in
the fecond the s is quite fuperfluous. But the
abfurdity of this practice is moit ftriking when
the genitives of monofyllable nouns are thus
written, an ox's horns, an afs's ears, a fifh's
tail, St. James's park; notwithſtanding that
the f, which is thus directed to be cut out, is
conftantly and neceffarily to be pronounced, as
if the feveral words were written at length,
oxes, affes, fiſhes, Jamefes
Markiſeſſe, n. Fr. the wife of a marquis
Marte, pr. n. Mars
Martire, n. Fr. martyrdom, torment
Martire, v. Fr. to torment
Mary, Marie, pr. n. a vulgar oath; by Mary
Mafe, n. a wild fancy
Maſe, v. neut. to doubt, to be confounded
Maſedneffe, n. aſtoniſhment, confufion
Mafelin, n. rather mazerin, a drinking-cup. See
Du Cange in v. Mazer
1
Mate, part. pa. of mate, v. Fr. dejected, ſtruck
dead; fo feble and mate, Conf. Am. 127,b.
Matire, for matere, n. Fr. matter
Maugre, malgre, Fr. in ſpite of; maugre all thy
night; maugre thin eyen; maugre hire hed
The original of this expreffion appears more
plainly in the following paffages, I drede thou
canft me grete maugre
Car je cuide, que me ſcavez
Mal gré.
Orig
Malgre his, with his ill will, againſt his will;
mal gré lui.
Mavis, n. Sax, a thrush
Mavis is probably a miſtake for muis, n. pl. Fr.
the orig. has cent muys de froment; the Paris
muid contains fomething more than five quar-
ters Engliſh
Maumet, n. an idol
Maumetrie, z. the religion of Mahomet; idolatry
Mawe, n. Sax. the ftomach
Maximian, pr. n. the author of fix elegies which
have been frequently printed under the name
of Gallus: he is faid by Fabricius [Bibl. Lat.
t. i. p. 297, ed. Patav.] to have lived under the
Emperor Anaftafius, q. I. or II.? A tranflation
or rather abridgment of thefe elegies in English
verfe is in mf. Harl, 2253.
ད
1
693
GLOSSARY.
May, v. Sax. to be able, phyſically, morally. See
Mowe
May, n. Sax. a virgin; of Mary, moder and may,
a young woman
Maydenhed, n. Sax. virginity
whore he had reſided ever fince the time of his
fuppofed death, vulneribus quotannis recrudeſcenti-
bus.
Meint, part. pa. of menge, v. Sax. mixed, mingled
Meke, adj. Sax. meek, humble
Meaneliche, adj. Sax. moderate; mediocribus, Meke, v. to become meek
orig.
Mebles, n. pl. Fr. moveable goods
Mede, n. Sux. reward, a meadow
Meles, n. pl. Sax. meals, dinners, &c. Du. 612.
Mele-tide, n. Sax. dinner-time
Melle, . Fr. to meddle
Mede, methe, meth, n. barb. Lat. mead, a liquor Melle, n. for mille
made of honey
Medle, v. Fr. to mix
Medlee, adj. of a mixed ſtuff or colour
Meinie, n. Fr. houſehold attendants, an army-
Harlervaynes meyne. This obfcure phrafe, I
think, máy be underſtood to relate to a parti-
cular fet of ghoſtly apparitions which were uf-
ed to run about the country at night, and were
called in French La mefgnie de Hellequin or Her-
lequin. The fulleft account that I have feen of
them is in L'hiſtoire de Richard fans paour, Duc
de Normandie, qui fut fils de Robert le Diable. In
one of his rides he meets with three black
knights whom he engages: "Et quand les
"Chevaliers veirent le ju mal party pour eux
"ils monterent a cheval et s'enfuyrent ;-et
"Richard-chavaucha apres eux; et ainsi qu'il
"chevauchoit il appercent une dance de gens
"noirs qui s'entretenoyent. Adonc luy fou-
"vint de la mefgnie de Hellequin, dont il avoit
"autres foys ouy parler." The title of the
next chapter (4.) is Cy divife de la mefgnie de
Hellequin et qui il eftoit. He is there faid to
have been a knight who, having spent all
his fubftance in the wars of Charles Martel
againſt the Saracens, lived afterwards by pil-
lage. "Adonc il avint qu'il mournt et fut en
"danger d'eftre damme, mais Dieu luy fit pardon,
pource que il avoit bataille contre les Sarra-
"zins et exaulce la foy. Si fut condamne de
"Dieu que pour un tems de termine luy et
"ceux de fon lignage feroient penitence et
yroient toute la nuit parmy la terre, pour
"leurs penitences faire et endurer plufieurs
maux et calamitez." The belief of fuch
apparitions was certainly of great antiquity in
Normandy, as they are mentioned by Orderi-
cus Vitalis under the title of familia Herlechini,
in a moft extraordinary ftory related by him,
1. viii. p. 695, and. 1091; and I fufpect that in
a paffage quoted by Du Cange in v. Herlinini,
from Petr. Blefens, ep. 14, we should read Her
likini inſtead of Herlinini-Gervafe of Tilbery,
who wrote in 1211, mentions another fet of
apparitions which were called fumilia Arturi.
Of. Imper. Dec. ii. c. 12; " In fylvis Brittannia
majoris aut minoris confimilia contigiffe re-
«feruntur, narrantibus nemorum cuftodibus,
quos foreftarios-vulgus nominat, fe alternis
diebus circa horam meridianam, et in primo
"noctium conticinio fub plenilunio lunâ lu-
"cente, fæpiflime videre militum copiam ve-
"nantium et canum et cornuum ftrepitum,
"qui fciffitantibus fe de focietate et familia Ar-
a turi effe affirmant." He had juft faid that
Arthur, not long before, had been ſeen in a
palace, miro opere conftructo, in a moſt delicious
valley in the neighbourhood of Mount Etna,
Memorie, n. Fr. remembrance; to be drawn to
memorie; to be recorded;
And for to drawe into memorye
Her names bothe and her hiftorye.
Conf. Am. l. 96.
Memorie, v. to remember
Mendiants, n. pl. Fr. friars of the begging orders
Mene, v. Sax. to mean, to intend
Mene, n. Fr. moyen, a mean or inftrument; where
the orig. has mezzano, a procurer. Menes, pl.
Mene, adj. niiddle
Menivere,
Menivere, n. Fr. a fort of fur
Mercenrike, pr. n. the kingdom of Mercia
Mercia, pr. z. Marfayas is probably meant, but
our poet, I know not upon what authority, has
turned him into a female
Merciable, adj. Fr. merciful
Meritorie, adj. Fr. meritorious
Merke, . Sax. a mark, an image; all the merke
of Adam, all the images of Adam, all man-
mind
Merke, adj. Sax. dark
Merlion, n. Fr. emerillon, a merlin, a fort of hawk
Mervaille, n. Fr. wonder, marvel
Mery, adj. Sax. merry, pleaſant
Mes, at gode mes, thould probably be at gode-
nefs; the orig. has en ben point. See Gode-
nefs
Mefe, n. for meſſe
Mefel, n. Fr. a leper
Mcfelrie, n. Fr. leprofy
Meffage, n. Fr. a meffenger
Meffageric, pr. . a fictitious attendant in the
temple of Venus; Boccace calls her Ruffiania,
Thefeida, b. vii.
.
Meffe, n. Fr. the fervice of the mafs
Meſte, adj. Sax. fuper!. d. as mofte
Mefurable, adj. Fr. moderate
Mefure, n. Fr. moderation
Metamorphofeos, Metamorphofofe, Ovid's Me-
tamorphofis. See Judicum
Mete, adj. Sax. fitting, convenient
Mete, n. Sax. meat; during the metes fpace, dur-
ing the time of eating
Mete-borde, a. Sax. an eating-table
Metely, adj. proportionable
Mete, v. Sax. to meet, to dream
Mette, met, pa. t. dreamed; I mette, me mette, I
dreamed
Metriciens, n. pl. writers in verfe
Mevable, adj. Fr. moveable
E
Mewe, n. Fr. a cage for hawks while they mewor
change their feathers, a cage in general, or any
fort of confinement; in mewe, in fecret
Mewet, adj Fr. mute; in mewet, dumbly, fpeak-
ing inwardly
GLOSSARY.
699
Micher, n. a thief, lierres orig. mychin or pryve-
ly ftelyn fmale things; furripio, Prompt. Paro.
Might, pa. . of may, v. Sax. was able, mighten,
pl.
Might, part. pa. if godely had he might, if he had
been able with propriety
Might, n. Sux. power, ftrength
Milkfop, n. an effeminate fellow
Milne-ftones, n. pl. Sux. millftones
Minde, n. Sax. remembrance, Conf. Am. 148, as
the bokes maken minde
Mine, v. Fr. to penetrate
Miniftralles, n. pl. Fr. minstrels
Miniûres, n. p. Fr. officers of juftice, minifters,
minttrels
Minoreffe, n. a nun under the rule of St. Clare,
Du Cange in v. Minorija. It is not clear, how-
ever, why Chaucer has likened Hate to a fifter
of this order; his original gave him no autho-
rity
Minour, n. Fr. a miner
Mintralcie, n. Fr. mulic, mufical inftruments
Mirrour, n. Fr. a lookinggiafs
Mirtheles, adj. Sax. without mirth
Mis, adv. ill, amifs; it is often to be fupplied to
a fecond verb, having been expreffed in com-
pofition with a former; if that I misfpeke or
fay; that hire mifdoth or faith; there is no-
thing misfaide nor do, Du. 528
Mis, n. a wrong
Mif-accompted, part. pa. miſreckoned
Mit-aventure, n. misfortune
Mif-avife, v. to adviſe wrongly
Mif-boden, part. pa, of miſ-bede, injured
Mif-borne, part. pa. of mif-bere, mifbehayed
Milchance, n. Fr. misfortune; with mifchance.
See With
Mifchefe, n. Fr. misfortune
1
Mifcoveting, z. fhould probably be mifcompting;
mefcompter, orig.
Mil-departe, . to diftribute, wrongly
Mifericorde, n. Fr. mercy, pity
Mif-eſe, л. uneaſineſs
Mif-foryave, pa. t. of mif-foryave, mifgave
Mif-gied, part. pa. of mif-gie, mifguided
Mil-gon, Mif-go, part. pa. of mit-go, gone
wrong
Mif-happing, part. pr. falling amiſs
Mif-lede, v. to conduct amifs
Mil-lived, part. pa, having lived to a bad pur-
pofe
Mil-metre, v. to ſpoil the metre of verfes by writ
ing or reading them ill
Mif-late, pa. t. of mif-fit, mifbecame
Mil-fayde, part, pa, of miſ-ſaye, ill-ſpoken of
Mif-fayer, n. an evil ſpeaker
Miffe, v. Sax. to fail
Mifle-metre, v. See Mif-metre
|
Miſtake,. to take a wrong part, to tranfgrefs;
mefprendre, orig.
Miftere, n. Fr. trade, occupation-condition of
life; what miftere men ye ben, what kind of
men ye are need
Miftihede, n. Sax. darkneſs
Miftily, ado. Sax. darkly
Miftrift, . for miſtruſt
v.
Mif-waie, n. a wrong way
Mil-went, part. pa, of mil-wende, gone amifs
Mif-write, v. to write wrong
Mitaine, n. Fr. a glove
Mitche, n. Fr. a manchet, a loaf of fine bread
Mite, n. Sax. a finall worm
Mixen, n. Sax. a dunghill
Mo, for me
Mo, for more, adj. comp. adv. comp.
Mochel, moche, adj. Sax. great in quantity, in
number, in degree-adv. much, greatly
Moder, modre, n. Sax. mother-the matrix or
principal plate of the aſtrolabe, Aftr.
Moifon, n. Fr. harveſt, growth
Moift, moifty, adj. Fr. new
Mokel, 7. may perhaps fignify fize, magnitude, as
michel feems to be uſed in that fenfe in Pierce
Plough. 89, b. of one michel and might
Molettie, n. Fr. trouble
Molte, pa. of meite, v. Sax melted, part, pa.
Monche, v. to chew
Mone, n. Sax the moon-amentation
Monelle, . Fr. to admonifh
Moniours, z. pl. Fr. coiners: in the orig. it is
faule monnoyeurs
Montre, n. Fr. a monfer or prodigy-a pats
tern
Mood, n. Sax. anger
Morcels, n. pl. Fr. morfels
More, adj. comp. Sax. greater in quantity, in num-
ber and degree-adv. comp. it is uſually joined
to adjectives and adverbs to expreſs the comp. deg.
Mormal, n. a cancer or gangrene
Morter, n. Fr. a fort of waxlight
Mirtifie, v. Fr. to kill, (fpeaking of quickfilver)
Mortrewes, a. Lord Bacon, in his Nat. Hift. c.
48, fpeaks of a mortrefs made with the brawn
of capons ftamped and ftrained. He joins it with
the cullice (coulis) of cocks. It feems to have
been a rich broth or foup, in the preparation of
which the flesh was ftamped or beat in a mer-
tar, from whence it probably derived its name,
une mortreuse, though I cannot fay that I have
ever met with the French word
Morwe, n. Sax. the morning; in the morning of
the following day-To-morwe, 1 believe, al-
ways means the following day, and it includes
the whole day; to-morwe at night
Morwening, #. Sax. the morning, merweninges, pl.
Motel, . Fr. the muzzię, mouth of a beatt
Mote, adjóſuperl. Saz. greateſt in quantity, in
number, in degree-udv. jupert. it is ufually
joined to adjectives and adverbs to express the
fuperlative degree
Moft, v. Sex. nuit ; Moſten, ¿l.
Mote, v. Sax. muft, may; Moten, pl.
Mote, n. Sox. an atom
Mothes, n. pl. Sax. moths
Motif, n. Fr. a motive, incitement
Mought, pa. ¿. of mowe, v. Sza, might
Moule, . Sax. to grow mouldy
Mouled, part. pä.
Moun, for mowen, pr. t. pl. of mowe, v. Sax.
may
Mountance, z. Fr. amount in value; in quantity;
not full the mountance of a mile, Conf. Am.
187.
Mourdant, a. Fr. the tongue of a buckle
Mowe, . Sax. may, to be able. Mowen, pl-
it is fometimes uled in the inf. m. which thou
i
4
700
GLOSSARY.
ſhalt not move fuffre, which thou shalt not be
able to endure to mowen ſuche a knight done
live or die, to be able to make ſuch a knight to
live or die-ſhe ſhould not con ne mow attaine,
ſhe ſhould not know nor be able to attain
Mowe, n. Fr. a diſtortion of the mouth; what do
I than but laugh and make a mowe? Lydg.
Tra. 137.
Mowing, 7. ability. In the following paffage it
feems to be uſed as a gerund; that fhrewes weren
difpoiled of mowing to don yvel
Much, muchel. See Miche
Muckre, v. Sax, to heap
Mue, v. Fr. to change
Muet, adj. Fr. dumb, mute
Mullok, n. Sax. dung, rubbiſh
Multiplication, n. Fr. the art of making gold and
filver
Multiplie, v. Fr. to make gold and filver
Mufard, n. Fr. a mufer or dreamer
Mufe, v. Fr. to gaze
Myſelf, myfelve, myfelven. See Self
Na, for no
N.
N'adde, for ne hadde, had not
Naile, n. Sax. a nail; by nailes, by Goddes nailes,
an oath
Nakere, n. a kind of brazen drum uſed in the ca-
valry. See Du Cange in v. Natara
Nale, n. Sax. an alehoufe. But I am the lefs in-
clined to adopt Skinner's explanation of this
word, becauſe I obferve that ale alone is com-
monly put for an alehoufe, and I cannot find
that male is ever ufed, except where it fol-
lows the prepofition atte. In the paffage
in Pierce Plough. 32, b. the Cotton mf. Vefp. B.
xvi. has at the ale; and fo in Pierce Plough. 26,
b. with idle tales at the ale.-Robert of Brunne's
tranſlation of Manuel des Pechées, mf. Bodl. 2313,
fol. 1;
In gaymes, in feflys, and at the ale.
fol. 38. Or yf thou leddeft any man to the ale.
I fufpect therefore that nale, in thoſe few paf-
fages in which it is found, fhould be confidered
as merely a corruption which has ariſen from
the mifpronunciation and conſequent mifwrit-
ing of atte nale for atten ale. A fimilar cor-
ruption feems to have taken place in the name
of that celebrated perfonage in our law Mr.
John A-Noke, whofe original appellation, I be-
lieve, was John Atten Oke, as that of his con-
ftant antagoniſt was John Atte Stile fim. Atte
Stile is a name in Pierce Plough. 23, b. and
there are many others of the fame form, as
Atte-cliff, Atte-ley, Atte-well, Atte-wood, &c.
'That the letter n is apt to paſs from the end of
one word to the beginning of another, we have
an inftance in newt, which has certainly
been formed, by corruption, from an ewt or
eft; and perhaps nedder, n. Sax. may have been
formed in the fame way from an adder: the
word in the Teutonic is adder, as we write it
The fame corrup-
now, without the initial n.
|
tions have happened in other languages. See
the notes of Signor Redi upon his Bacco in Toj
cana, p. 133, 4, 5, 182, 3.
N'am, for ne am, am not
Name, pa. t. of nime, v. Șax. took
Nappe, v. Sax. to fleep. See Knap
Narcotickes, n. pl. Fr. Gr. drugs caufing ſleep
Narwe, adj. Sax. cloſe, narrow; whan they hem
narwe avife, when they cloſely confider their
conduct
Nas, for ne was, was not
Nafo, pr. n. P. Ovidius Nafo. See Ovid
Nat, adv. Sax. not
Natal, adj. Lat. prefiding over nativity
Natheleffe, natheles, adv. Sax. not the lefs, never
thelefs
Nation, n. Fr. nation-family
Naught, nought, n. Sax. nothing
——, adv. not, not at all, it may more proper-
ly perhaps be confidered as a noun uſed adver-
bially. See Nothing
Nay, adj. Sax. it feems to be uſed fometimes as
a noun; it is no nay, it cannot be denied
Nay, v. to deny
Ne, adv. Sax. not; ne had he ben holpen, had he
not been helped
Ne, conj. Sax. nor
Nece, n. Fr. a niece-a coufin
Neceffaire, adj. Fr. neceffary
Nede, n. Sax. need, neceffity
Nede, v. is generally uſed as an imperfonal; it
nedeth thee nought teche; nedeth him no
dwale; neded no more to hem to go ne rid
Nedeful, adj. diftreft, indigent
Nedely, adv. neceffarily
Nedes, nede, adv. neceffarily; it is ufually joined
with muſt
Nedder, n. Sax. an adder; Neders, pl.
Neighe, adj. Sax. nigh
Neighe, v. to approach, to come near
Nekke, n. Sax. the neck; nekke-bone
Nempne, v. Sax. to name
Ner, adv. Sax. near
Nere, comp. d. nigher; never the nere, never the
nigher; nere and nere, nigher and nigher;
ferre ne nere, later nor earlier
N'ere, for ne were, were not; n'eṛe it, were it
not; n'ere the friendſhip
Nerfe, n. Fr. nerve, finew
Nefhe, adj. Sax. foft, tender; Nefch and hard
Nete, n. Sax. neat cattle
Nether, adj. comp. Sax. lower
Nettle in dock out. See Raket
Neven, v. Sax. to name
Nevew, n. Fr. a nephew-a grandſon
Newe, adj. Sax. new,
freſh
Newe, adv. newly; newe and newe, again and
again; all newe; of newe, newly, lately; all
new, anew, afṛeſh
Newe, v. to renew
Newed, part, pa, renewed
Newefangel, adj. defirous of new things
Newefangelneffe, n. inconftancy
Nexte, fuperl. d. nigheſt; it generally fignifies the
nigheft, following, but fometimes the nigheft
preceding
N'hath, for ne hath, hath not
Nice, adj. Fr. foolish
GLOSSARY.
701
Nicetee, n. folly; do his nicetee; fo the French Not-hed, a head like a nut
ufe faire folie
Nifles, n. pl. trifles
Nigard, n. a ftingy fellow
Nigardie, n. ftinginefs
Nightertale, night-time
Night-fpel, n. Sax. a night-charm
N'ill, for ne will, will not
N'is, for ne is, is not
N'ifte, for ne wifte, knew not, fing.; n'iften, for
ne wiften, knew not, pl.
Nobledeft, pa. t. 2nd perf. fing. of noble, v. Fr. en-
nobledeft
Nobleffe, n. Fr. dignity, fplendour
Nobley, n. as nobleſſe
Nocked, part. pa. notched
Noie, n. Fr. hurt, trouble
Noie, v. to hurt, to trouble
Noife, v. Fr. to make a noiſe
N'olde, for ne wolde, would not
Nombre, n. Fr. number
Nomen, nome, part. pa. of nime, v. Sax. taken
Nother, conj. Sax. nor, neither
N'other, adj. Sax. for ne other; neither n'other,
nor one nor other; he n'is in neither n'other
habite; neutro eft habitu, orig.
Nothing, adv. Sax. not, not at all
Nouches, n. pl. It is probable, I think, that
nouche is the true word, and that ouche has been
introduced by a corruption the reverſe of that
which has been taken notice of in Nale. See
Du Cange in v. Nochia and Nufea, and Schilter,
Gloff. Teut. in v. Nuofci, from whence it ap-
pears that nufchin, Teut. figuifies fibula, a clafp
or buckle. As thefe were fome of the moſt
ufeful inftruments of drefs they were probably
fome of the first that were ornamented with
jewels, by which means the name by degrees
may have been extended fo as to include feve-
ral other forts of jewels; the fame thing may
have happened in the cafe of the word broche,
[fee above] which indeed feems originally to
have been a French expreffion for nouche
Nompere, n. an arbitrator. See the paffage quot-Nought, n. & adv. Sax. See Naught
ed above in v. Lovedaie. The fenfe of this
word is eſtabliſhed by the Prompt. Parv.nown-
per or owmper, Arbiter, Sequefter. If the
etymology of it were as clear, we might be able
to determine which of the two methods of
writing it is the beft; cuftom has long declared
for the latter. The modern word is umpire;
and in Pierce Plough, 25. b. the edit. read-an
umper, but the Cotton mf. Vefp. B. xvi. has-->
numper. I cannot find that any fuch word is
ufed, in the ſame ſenſe, in any other of the Go-
thic or romance languages: it has been fup-
pofed by fome to be a corruption of un pere,
Fr. which I can hardly believe; and perhaps
the reader will be as backward to admit of a
derivation of it from the Fr. nonpai, an odd or
third perfon, which an arbitrator generally is.
This however is the most probable etymology
that has occurred to me, and I fee that the
compiler of the ftatutes for the Univerſity of
Oxford (whoever he was) had the fame idea,
for he expreffes the word umpire in his Latin
by impar, tit. xv. § 14. Index, impar, aut arbi-
trator, in quâcunque caxfâ elèctus
Non, adj. Sax. not one, none
Non, adv. Fr. not; abfent or non; whether ye
wol or non
None, n. Fr. the ninth hour of the natural day,
nine o'clock in the morning; the hour of din-
ner
Nones, for the nones
Nonne, n. Fr. a nun
Norice, n. Fr. a nurfe; in other paffages, it is
printed by miſtake for norie, . a fofter-child,
alumnus
Nortelrie, n. nurture, education
Nofethirles, n. pl. Sax. noftrils
N'ot, for ne wot, know not
Nouthe, adv. Sax. now
Novelries, n. pl. Fr. novelties
Now, adv. Sax. now and now, once and again;
now adayes, in theſe days
Nowel, n. Fr. Chriſtmas
Noyfaunce, n. Fr. offence, trefpafs
O, for ho. See Ho
O, adj. for on, one; in the curious old ballad on
the battle of Lewes, [Anc. Poet. v. ii. p. 4. l. 10.]
oferling ſhould be written, I believe, o ferling,
i. e. one farthing
Obeyfance, n. Fr. obedience; obeyfing
Obeyfant, part. pr. Fr. obedient; obeyfing
Obfequies, n. pl. Fr. funeral rites
Qbfervance, n. Fr. refpect
Obſerve, v. Fr. to reſpect, to pay regard to
Occident, n. Fr. the weft
Octavien, pr. n. I do not ſuppoſe that Auguſtus
is meant, but rather the fabulous emperour
who is the fubject of a romance entitled Octa-
vian Imperator, mf. Cotton, Calig. ii. See Percy's
Catalogue, n. 18. The fame Octavian, I appre-
hend, was celebrated in a piece of Arras hang-
ings which made part of the furniture of Hen-
ry V. and is thus defcribed in the inventory,
Rot. Parl. 2. Hen. VI. Item I autre pece d arras
Dor a comence en l eftorie, Le Octavion Roy de
Rome
Ocy, ocy, the nightingale's note
Oerthrow, for overthrow, part. pa. Sax. over-
thrown
Oetus, pr. n. Æetes
Of, ado. Sax. off
Offended, part. pa Fr. hurt
Notabilitee, n. Fr. a thing worthy of obferva- Offenfioun, n. offence, damage
tion
Note, n. Sur. need, buſineſs
Note, n. Fr. a mufical note; to cry by note, to
cry aloud, in a high tone
Notemuge, n. nutmeg
Notes, a. pl. Sax, nuts
$
Offertorie, . Fr. a part of the mafs
Offring, n. Fr. offering at mafs
Oft, ofte, adv. Sax. often: often-fith, often-
times
Oinement, n. Fr. ointment
Olifaunt, . Fr. elephant
102
CLOSSARY.
}
Oliveres, n. pl. Fr. olive-trees
Omer, pr. n. Homer
On, prep. Sax. in; on live, in life, alive; on twelve,
in twelve; on hunting; on hawking. See A,
prep.-upon; on to fee, to look upon. Licur-
gus daughter, fairer on to fene-fo this line is
written in mf. Bodl.
On, adj. Sax. one; after on, alike; they were at
on, they were agreed; ever in on, continually:
I mine on, I fingle, I by myfelf; and thus I
went widewher walking mine one; non faw
but he one; all him one
Onde, n. Sax. zeal, malice; ny the and onde
Oned, part. pa. Sax. made one, united
Ones, pl. of on; we three ben alle ones, we three
are all one
Ones, adv. Sax. once; at ones, at once, at the
fame time
Onhed, n. Six. unity
Only, adv. Sax, al only, folely
Ony, adj. Sax. any
Open-ers, n. S
the fruit of the medlar trec
Open-heded, adj. bareheaded
Opie, n. Fr. opium
Oppreffe, v. Fr. to ravifh
Oppreſſed, part.pa.
Oppreffion, a rape
Or, adv. x. er, before
Oratorie, n. Fr. a chapel, a clofet
A
Ordal, n. Sax. judicial trial. See Kilian in v. Oor-
deel, and Hickes Differt. Epift. p. 149. It is
poffible however that Chaucer may have uſed
this word in its more confined fenfe, for a trial
by fire or water, without confidering whether
fuch trials were practifed at Troy.
Orde, n. Sux. a point
Ordered, part. pa. ordained in holy orders
Orders four, the four orders of mendicant friars
Ordinance, n. Fr. orderly, difpofition
Ordinat, part. pa. orderly, regular
Ore, n. Sax. grace, favour
rwell, pr. n. a feaport in Effex
Orírays, n. Fr. gold embroidery. See Du Cange
in v. Aurifrigia
Orient, z. Fr. the eaft
Origenes, pr. n.
he fays of himfelf, that
Other, adj. Sax. alius, Lat.
Other, conj. Sax or either
Ouche. See Nouche
Over, prep. Sax. above; over all, in every cafe, on
every fide
Over, adj. Six. upper
Overeft, fuperl. d. uppermoſt
Over-gret, adj. Six. too great
Over-ladde, part. pa. overborn; do not the people
oppreffe nor overlede, Lydg. Tra.
Over-live, v. Six. to outlive
Over-merily, adv. Sл, too merrily
Over-moche, adj. Sıx. too great
Over-nome, part. pa. of over-time, v. Sax. over-
taken
Over-ſpradde, pa. t. Sax. overſpread
Overte, adj. Fr. open
Overthrew, pa. t. of overthrow, v. neut. Six. fell
down
Overthrowing, part. pr. S.x. falling headlong; by
overthrowing way, precipiti viâ, orig.; and
therfore clepeth Caffiodore poverte the moder
of ruine, that is to fay, the moder of over-
throwing or falling doun
Over-thwart, adv. Six. acroſs, over againſt
Over-timeliche, adv. Sax. too early
Ovide, pr. n.
Our Author feems to have been
well acquainted with the best part of Ovid's
works; moſt of the hiftories in his Legende of
Good Women are taken from the Epiftolæ
Heroidum or the Metamorphofes; that of Lu-
crece fhews that he had read the Fafti
Ought, n. Six. any thing, adv. See Aught. The
difference has arifen merely from the different
ufages of writing a or o
a or o for one
Ought, pa. t. of owe
Oughten, oughtc. From hence, as it feems, has
been formed a new verb ought, which is very
commonly uſed in the prefent tenfe for owe in
both numbers. Ought is alfo uſed as an im-
perf. in the pr. and pa. t. ; wel ought us werke,
well behoveth it us to work; hem oughte have
gret repentance, it behoved them to have great
repentance
Ounding, n. Fr. waving, imitating waves
In the lift of Chaucer's Works Oures, pr. poff. Six. ours
He made alfo, gon is a grete while,
Origenes upon the Maudelaine-
meaning, I fuppofe, a tranflation into profe or
verfe of the homily de Maria Magdalena, which
has been commonly, though falfely, attributed
to Origen. V. Opp. Origenis, t. ii. p. 291, ed. Pa-
ris, 1604. I cannot believe that the poem entitled
The Lamentation of Marie Magdaleine, which
is in all the editions of Chaucer, is really that
work of his; it can hardly be confidered as a
tranflation or even imitation of the homily,
and the compofition, in every refpect, is infi-
mitely meaner than the worst of his genuine
pieces
Orifont, n. Fr. the horizon
Orloge, n. Fr. a clock or dial
Orpiment, pr. n. a mineral fo called
Other, adj. Six. alter, Lut. the other of two; 0-
thers, gen, ca.
Out, interj. Sax, away
Out, adv. Six. out and out, throughout
Outhees, n. Lat. barb. outcry; and born to Lon-
don brigge full hie with outheys
Outrage, n. Fr. violence
Outraie, v. Fr. to fly out, to be outrageous
Out-rede, v. Sax. to furpafs in counfel
Outrely, adv. Fr. utterly
Out-renne, v. Sax. to outrun
Outſtraught, pa. t. of outſtretch, v. Sax. ftretched
out
Out-taken, part. pa. taken out, excepted; out-tak-
en Crift on loft, Chrift in heaven being ex-
cepted; out-take Carleon that was in Arthure
tyme
Owe, v. Sax. debco; owen, pl.
Owen, owne, part. pa.
Owhere, adv. Sux. any where
Owndie, adj. Fr. waving
Oxenforde, pr. n. Oxford
Oyfe, pr. n. a river in Picardy
GLOSSARY
703
P.
Pace, v. Fr. to país away, to ſurpaſs
Page, n. Fr. a boy-child, a boy fervant
Paie, n. Fr. liking, fatisfaction
Paie, v. Fr. to pleaſe, to fatisfy, to pay; paide,
part. pa. pleaſed, payed
Paillet, n. Fr. a couch, (properly of firaw)
Paindemaine, n. Fr. a ſort of bread
Paire, v. Fr. to impair; if I fpeke ought to paire
her loos, i. e. to impair their credit or reputa-
tion; fo this line is written in edit. 1542, and
mf. Hunter
Palamedes, pr. n. not the fon of Nauplius, one of
the Grecian commanders at the war of Troy,
but a knight of the Round Table, called Palomi-
des in Mort d'Arthur, the unfuccefsful rival of
Triſtan, for the love of la Belle Iſoude. Sec Mort
d'Arthur, b. ii. which feems to be compiled
chiefly from the Roman de Tristan
"
Palafins, n. pl. Fr. ladies palafins, ladics of the
court; in the orig. palatines. See Du Cange in v.
Palatini
Palatie, pr. n. Palathia in Anatolia. Sp.
Pale, n. a perpendicular ſtripe in heraldry
Pale, v. Fr. to make pale
Paleis, n. Fr. a palace
Pulfreis, n. pl. Fr. horſes for the road, where ſtedes
are horſes for battle; ne large palfrey efy for the
nones
Paling, . Fr. imitating pales
Palladion, n. Gr. the image of Pallas at Troy
Palled, part. pa. Fr. made pale
Palmeres, n. pl. pilgrims to foreign parts
Palmerie, pr. n. Palmyra in Syria
Pamphilus, pr. n.
Pam pred, part. pa. pampered, made plump. See
Jun. Etymol. who derives it from the Fr, parpre,
a vine branch full of leaves
Pan, pr. n. the Heathen deity
Fan, n. Sax. the fkull, the head
Pancer, n. Fr. a net
Papelard, n. Fr. a hypocrite
Papelardie, n. Fr. hypocrify
Paper white, adj. white as paper
Par, prep. Fr. par amour, with love; par compagne,
with love; par compagne,
for company; par chance, by chance; par cuere,
by heart, memoriter
Paraboles, n. pl. Fr. parables, the Proverbs of So-
lomon
Parage, n. Fr. kindred
Paraille, n. Fr. apparel
Parements, n. pl. Fr. ornamental furniture of
clothes
Parentele, n. Fr. kindred
Parfay, Fr. par foy, by my faith
Parfei, as parfay
Parfit, adj. Fr. perfect
| Parfitly, adv.
Parfitly, adv. perfectly
Parfourme, v. Fr. to perform
Pariſhens, n. pl. Fr. parishioners
F
Paritorie, n. Fr. Lat. the herb parie taria, or pelli
tory of the wall
Parlement, n. Fr. an affembly for confultation, a
confultation
Parten, inf. m. Fr. to take part
rr
Partie, n. Fr. a part, a party in a diſpute
Parvis, n. Fr. a portico before a church, Du Cange
in v. Paradifu: §. It appears that books were
coin
inmonly fold au Parvis divant Notre Dame at Pa-
ris. At London the Parvis was frequented by Ser-
jeants at Law. See Fortefcue de Laud. leg. Ang.
c. li. "Poft meridiem curiæ non tenentur; fed
placitantes tunc fe divertunt ad Pervi-
"fum et alibi, confulentes cum Servientibus
"ad Legem et aliis confiliariis fuis." There is
a difference of opinion where the parvis at Lon-
don, to which the lawyers reforted, was ſituated;
Somner fuppofes it to have been in Olu-Palace-
yard, before Weſtminſter-hall, Gloff. in X Script.
v. Triforium; but others, with more probabili-
ty, think it was what Dugdale calls The Per-
vyfe of Pawles. When the Serjeants had dined
in any of the inns of court, St. Paul's lay much
more conveniently for an afternoon confultation
than Weftminster-hall
Pas, . Fr. a footpace; his horfe-on which he
rode a pas ful foftely
¡ fentence
Paſs, v. Fr. to furpaſs, to excel, to judge, to paſs
Paffant, paffing, part. pr. excelling [ter nofter
Patren, inf. m. to pray, properly to repeat the P2-
Pavade, n. a weapon of offence
71.
Paumes, . pl. Fr. the palms of the hands
Pax, to kiffe the pax: for an account of this cere-
mony, fee Du Cange in v.
Payen, adj. Fr. Pagan
Paynes, n pl. Heathens
Payſaunce, n. pauſing or ſtopping, Gloff. Ur. q. ?
Pecunial, adj pecuniary, paid in money
Pees, n. Fr. peace; when uſed as an interjection, it
fignifies the fame as hold thy pecs, be filent
Peine, n. Fr. penalty; up peine of deth. See Up.-
Grief, torment, labour
Peine, v. Fr. to torture, to put to pain; the peined
hire, ſhe took great pains
Paramour, paramours, n. Fr. love, gallantry, a lo- Peife, v. Fr. to poife, to weigh
ver of either fex
Paraventure, adv. Fr. haply, by chance
Paraunter, corruption of paraventure
Farcæ, n. pl. Lat. the Fates
Parcel-mele, adv. by parcels or parts
Parde, pardiaux, a common French oath, which
moft of the perfonages in Chaucer exprefs very
frequently in English, with as little ceremony as
the Greeks ufed their As, and with as little
meaning too
[cies
Pardoner, n. Fr. a feller of pardons or indulgen-
Pell, n. a houfe, a cell, Sp. and S. f. a palace,
Gloff. Ur. q.?
Pellet, n. Fr. pelotte, a ball
Penance, n. Fr. repentance, pains to be undergone
by way of fatisfaction for fin, pain, forrow
Penant, n. Fr. a perfon doing penance
Pencell, a. Fr. pennoncel, a fmall ſtreamer
Penible, zaj, induſtrious, pains-taking
Penitencer, n. Fr. a prieft who enjoins penance in
extraordinary cales
Penmark, pr. z. a plate in Bretagne
704
GLOSSARY.
Penner, n. a pencafe. In the inventory of the goods
of Henry V. Rot. Parl. 2 H. VI. n. 15, m. 13,
is the following article, Un penner' et I ynkborn
d'arg.' dørrez; and again, m. 20, I pennere et I
corne covert du velvet bloy
Penon, n. Fr. a ſtreamer or enfign
Pens, n. pl. Sax. pennies
Penfell, n. as pencell
Penfifehed, n. penſiveneſs
Peper, n. Lat. pepper; to brewe, peper, feems to
be an expreffion for the preparation of a hot
pungent liquor which ſhould burn the throats of
the drinkers; in the orig. it is-dames le braſſe-
ront tel poivre
Peple, n. Fr. people
Pepliſh, adj. vulgar
Perche, n. Fr. a pearch for birds
Percel, adv. parcel
Peida, as pardé
Pere, v. to appear
Pere, n. Fr. a peer, an equal
Peregal, adj. equal
Peregrine, adj. Fr. wandering
Pereles, adj. without an equal
Perjenete, . a young pear
Pernafa, pr. n. Mount Parnaffus
Perrie, n. Fr. jewels, precious ſtones
Perfaunt, part. pa. Fr. piercing
Perfe, pr. n. Perfia
Perfe, adj. Fr. fky coloured, of a blewiſh gray
Perfelee, n. Sax. Lat. parſley
Perfone, n. barb. Lat. a man, generally a man of
dignity, a parfon or rector of a church
Pertelote, pr. n. of a hen
Perturbe, v. Fr. to trouble
Perturbing, n. diſturbance
Pervinke, n. Sax. Lat. the herb periwinkle
Pery, n. Fr. a pear tree
Pefe, n. Fr. as pees
Pefon, n. pl. Sax. peas
Pefible, adj. peaceable
Peter Alfonfe, Piers Alfonfe
Petrark, pr. n.
Our author has inferted a tranfla-
tion of the 102d fonnet of Petrarch into his
Troilus and Crefeide; it is not in the Filoftrato:
there feems to be no fufficient reafon for believ-
ing that Chaucer had ever ſeen Petrarch.
Peytrel, ». Fr. the breaſtplate of a horſe
Phifike, n. Fr. medicine
Phifiologus, pr. n. There was a larger work with
the fame title in profe, which is frequently quot-
ed by Vincent of Beauvais
Phiton, pr. n. the ferpent Python
Phitoneſſe, n. barb. Lat. a witch
Pie, n. Fr. a magpie, a pratting goflip or tell-tale
Pierrie, n. Fr. jewels, precious ftones
Piggefnie. The Romans ufed oculus as a term of
endearment; and perhaps Piggefnie, in vulgar
language, only means oculus, the eyes of that ani-
mal being remarkably fmall
Pight, pa. t. of pike, v. Sax. pitched
|
Pilche, n. Sax. a coat or cloak of ſkins, Prov. 45
toga pellicea, Junius in v.
Piler, n. Fr. a pillar
Pille, v. Fr. piller, to rob, to plunder
Pilled, rather piled, part. pa. Fr. pelé, bald
Pillours, n. pl. Fr. plunderers
Pilwe, n. Sax. a pillow
Pilwe-bere, n. Sax. the covering of a pillow
Piment, n. barb. Lat. fpiced wine, wine mixed with
honey
Pinche, v. Fr. to fqueeze; ther coude no wight
pinche at his writing, no one could lay hold of
any flaw in his writings
Pine, n. Sax. pain, grief
Pine, v. Sax. to torment
Fined, part. pa. tortured
Pipe, v. Sax. to play on a pipe; to pipe in an ivy
lefe, is put for any uſeleſs employment, as is now
ſaid of a diſappointed man, He may go whiſtle.
See Buckes horn
Piftell, n. Sax. Lat. an epiftle, a fhort leſſon
Pitance, n. Fr. a meſs of victuals; it properly
means an extraordinary allowance of victuals
given to monafticks, in addition to their uſual
commons. See Du Cange in v. Pictantia
Pith, n. Sax. marrow, ſtrength
Pitous, adj. Fr. merciful, compaffionate, exciting
compaffion
Pitoufly, adv. pitifully
Plage, n. Lat. the plague
Plages, n. pl. Lat, the divifions of the globe; the
plages of the northi, the northern regions
Plain, . Fr. a plain
Plain, adj. fimple, clear; it is often ufed as an ad-
verb
Plain, v. to make plain
Plaine, v. Fr. to complain
Plainliche, adv. plainly
Plat, platte, adj. Fr. flat, plain, the flat of a fword;
it is often uſed as an adverb; all plat, i. e. flatly;
full plat and eke ful plain
Plate, n. a flat piece of metal; a breſt-plate, armour
for the breaft; a pair of plates, armour for the
breaſt and back
Play, n. Sax. fport, pleaſure
Play, v. to fport, to take pleafure, to act upon a
ftage, to play upon muſical inftruments, to lead
a pilgrimage, to withdraw upon pretence of go-
ing on a pilgrimage
Ple, n. Fr. an argument or pleading
Plein, adj. Fr. full, perfect
Plenere, adj. Fr. complete
Plefance, a. Fr. pleaſure
Plefinges, n. pl. pleaſures
Plete, v. Fr. to plead
Pleting, n. pleading
Plie, v. Fr. to bend or mold
Plight, n. condition
Plight, pa. t. & part. of pluck, v. Sax. pulled,
plucked
Plighte, v. Sax. to engage, to promiſe
Pike, v. Sax. to pitch, to pick, as a hawk does his Plighte, pa. t. plighten, pl.
feathers, to fteal, to peep
Pike, n. Sax. a fifh fo called
Pikerel, 7, Sax. a young pike
Plite, v. to plait or fold. See Plie
Plite, ». condition, form. See plight
Plungy, adj. Fr, wet, rainy
GLOSSARY.
705
Poileis, adj. Fr. of Apulia, anciently called Poile.,
Willamme's dogter Converfane in Poyle to wyve he
Ligh
nome
Point, n. Fr. the principal buſineſs, a ſtop or full
point; in good point, in good cafe or condition;
at point devife, with the greateſt exactneſs; at
point to breft, in point for to braſt, ready to
burst
Pointel, n. Fr. a ftyle or pencil for writing
Pointen, inf. m. v. Fr. to prick with any thing
pointed
Poke, n. Fr. a pocket, a bag. See Pouche
Poke, v. Fr. to thruſt
Polive, n. a pulley
Pollax, n. Sux. a halberd, bipennis. Prompt. Parv.
Pomel, n. Fr. any ball or round thing, the top of
the head
Pomelee, adj. Fr. ſpotted with round fpots like ap-
ples, dappled; pomelee gtis, of a dapple-gray co-
lour
Popelot, n. This word may either be confidered as
a diminutive from pouple, a puppet, or as a cor-
ruption of papellot, a butterfly
Popet, n. Fr. a puppet
Popingay, n. a parrot; papegaut, Fr. papegacy, Belg.
papagallo, Ital.
Popped, adj. Fr. nicely dreffed
Popper, n. joly poper, a bodkin, according to Sp.
and Sk. who however produce no authority for
ſuch interpretation. The name ſeems to be fit-
ter for a piſtol
Pore, v. to look earneſtly, poren, pr. t. pl.
Pore, adj. for poure
Porifme, n. Gr. is uſed in the fenſe of―a coronary,
a theorem deduced from another
Porphurie, pr. n. of a ſpecies of marble, porphyry
Port, n. Fr. carriage, behaviour
Portecolife, n. Fr. a falling gate, a portcullis
Portor, n. a breviary, Du Cange in v. Portiforium
Pufe, n. a rheum or defluction obftructing the
voice, catarris, corifa, Promp. Parv.
Pofe, v. Fr. to fuppofe; I pofe I had finned fo
Poffe, v. Fr. to puſh
Poffed, part. pa.
Poffeffioners, a pl. Lat. an invidious name for fuch
religious communities as were endowed with
lands, &c. the mendicant orders profeſſed to live
entirely upon alms
Poſt, n. Sax. a prop or ſupport
Pollé, n. Fr. power
Potecary, n. Fr. an apothecary
Potent, n. Fr. a crutch, a walking-ftick
Potential, adj Fr. ftrong, powerful
Poteftat, ". Fr. a principal magiftrate
Pouche, n. Fr. pocket, pouch
Poudre, n. Fr. powder, poudres, pl.
Poverte, n. Fr. poverty; it is to be pronounced po-
verte, the final e being confidered as an e femi
nine
Poulce, ». Fr. the poulfe
Poule, pr. a. St. Paul
Pounfoned, part. pa. punched with a bodkin
Poupe, v. to make a noife with a horn
Pourchace, n. Fr. to buy, to provide
Pourchas, ". Fr. acquifition, purchaſe
VOL. I.
Poure, v. as pore
Poure, adj. Fr. poor
Pourtraie, v. Fr. to draw a picture
Pourtraiour, n. a drawer of pictures
Pourtaiture, a picture or drawing
Practike, n. Fr. practice
Preamble, n. Fr. preface
Preambulatioun, n. preamble
Precious, adj. Fr. over nice
Predeftiné, n. Fr. predeftination
Predication, n. Fr. preaching, a fermon
Prees, n. Fr. a prefs or crowd
Prefe, preve, n. Fr. proof, trial; at preve, on tri-
al; with evil prefe, evil may it prove.
With
prove. See
[trate
Prefect, n. Fr. Lat. a governor or principal magif
Preiſe, n. Fr. commendation
Preife, v. Fr. to commend, to value
Prentis, n. Fr. an apprentice
Prentishode, z. apprenticeship
Preparat, part. pa. Lat. prepared
Prés, adv. Fr. near, fo I fufpect this word is to be
understood; of prés, i, e. at hand, cloſe; de prés,
Fr. or perhaps of prés may be put for in a prees.
See Prees
Preſe, v. Fr. to prefs or crowd
Prefent, v. Fr. to offer, to make a prefent of;
and with the wine fhe gan hem to preſent; and
fmote his head of, his fader to prefent
Preſentarie, adj. Lat. preſent
Preft, adj. Fr. ready
Pretend, v. Fr. to lay claim to
Preterit, adj. Fr. paffed
Preve, v. Fr. to try, to demonſtrate by trial
Preve, v. neut. to turn out upon trial
Prick, n. Sax. a point, a pointed weapon
Prick, prike, v. Sax. to wound, to ſpur a horſe, to
ride hard
Prickafour, n. a hard rider
Pricking, n. hard riding
Prideles, adj. Sax. without pride
Prie, v. to look curiouſly
Prikke, n. See Prick
Prime, adj. Fr. Lat. firft; at prime temps, at the
first time; at prime face, at first appearance
Prime, the first quarter of the artificial day;
half way prime, prime half ſpent ; prime large,
prime far advanced
Primerole, n. Fr. a primroſe, Conf. Am. 148. b.
Primetemps, n. Fr. ſpring
Pris, n. Fr. price, praife; it be prys, or it be blame,
Conf. Am. 165
Privé, adj. Fr. private; privé and apert, private
and public; privé man, a man entrusted with
private bufinefs
Prively, adv. privately
Privetee, z. private bufinefs
Proceffe, n. Lat. progreſs
Profeffioun, n. Fr. the monaftic profeffion
Proheme, n. Fr. Gr. a preface
Proine, v. Fr. provigner; it feems to have fignifi-
ed originally to take cuttings from vines, in or-
der to plant them out; from hence it has been
ufed for the cutting away of the fuperfluous
fhoots of all trees, which we now call pruning,
Y T
GLOSSARY.
:
and for that operation which birds, and particu-
larly hawks, perform upon themfelves, of pick-
ing out their fuperfluous or damaged feathers.
In allufion to this laft fenfe, Damian is faid to
proine and pike himſelf. Gower, ſpeaking of an
eagle, fays,
For there he pruneth him and piketh,
As doth an hauke, whan him wel liketh.
Conf. Am. 139.
Prolle, v. to go about in ſearch of a thing
Provable, adj. Fr. capable of being demonftrated
Provende, n. Fr. præbenda, Lat. a prebend, a daily
or annual allowance or ftipend. See Du Gange
in v. Præbenda
Provendre, n. a prebendary
Proverbe, n. Fr. Lat. a prudential maxim
Froverbe, v. to fpeak proverbially
Provoſtry, n. Fr. the office of provoft or prefect;
præfe&ura
Prow, n. Fr. profit, advantage
Proweffe, n. Fr. integrity
Pruce, fr. n. Pruffia
Fruce, adj. Pruffian
Pruned, pa. t. as proined
Ptholomee, pr. n.
Puella and Rubeus, the names of two figures in
geomancy, reprefenting two conftellations in
heaven Puella fignifieth Mars retrograde, and
Rubeus Mars direct, Sp.
Pulchritude, n. Lat. beauty
Pullaile, n. Fr. poultry
Pulled hen, I have been told fince that a hen, whofe
feathers are pulled or plucked off, will not lay
any eggs; if that be true, there is more force in
the epithet than I apprehended
Punice, v. Fr. to puniſh
Pure, adj. Fr. mcre, very
Fured, part. pa. purified
Purfiled, part. pa. Fr. worked upon the edge
Purpos, n. Fr. purpoſe, defign, propoſition in dif-
courfe
Purprife, n. Fr. an encloſure
queint, he made it frange, cunning, artful, tri,
neat
Queinte, pa. t. and part. of quench, v. Sav.
quenched
Queintife, n. trimnefs, neatnefs, exceffive trimness,
cunning
Quelle, v. Sax. to kill, to deftroy
Queme, v. Sax. to pleafe; wel me quemeth, Conf.
Am. 68
Quene, n. Sav. a queen, a harlot
Querne, z. Sar. a handmill
Querrour, n. Fr. one that works in a ftone quarry
Quefte, n. Fr. a prayer or demand
Queft-mongers,
Queſt-mongers, n. pl. packers of inquefts or juries
Quethe, v. Sax. to ſay, to declare; 1 quethe him
quite, is a tranflation of an old technical term
in the law Glamo illi quietum; the original Fr.
has only Je quitte
Quik, adj. Sax. alive
Quikkeft, fuperl. d. speedieft; the quikkeſt ſtrete,
the most expeditious way
Quiken, v. Sax. to make alive
Quiked, part. pa. made alive
Quiked, pa. t. of the fame v. uſed in a neutral-
fenfe, became alive
Quinible, #. is the inſtrument, I fuppofe, which is
called in barb. Lat. quinterna and quintaria. See
Du Cange and Carpentier in v. Quinternizare, and
Mebus, Vita d' Ambr. Camald. lyrô, limbutâ, quin-
taria, ribebê, avena, tibiifque
Quithin, n. Fr. a cuſhion
Quiftron, z. a beggar, Gloff. Ur. I rather believe it
fignifies a fcullion, un garçon de cufine
Quite, adj. Fr. free, quiet
Quite, v. Fr. to requite, to pay for, to acquit
Quitte, part. pa. requitted
Qutely, adv. freely, at liberty
Quod, pa. 1. of quethe, faid
Quoke, pa. t. of quake, v. Sax, trembled, ſhook
Ra. n. Sax. a roe deer
Purveyance, n. Fr. forefight, providence, provi- Racine, a. Fr. a root
fion
Purveye, v. to foreſee, to provide
Puterie, n. Fr. whoredom
Putours, n. pl. whoremongers
Pythagoras, pr. n.
Q
Quad, quade, adj. Teut. bad; none quad, nothing
evil
Quaile-pipe, n. a pipe ufed to call quails
Quaire, . Fr. a quire of paper, a book
».
Quakke, n. feems to be put for an inarticulate noife
occafioned by any obftruction in the throat
Qualme, . Sax. ficknefs, the noife made by a
raven
Quappe, v. to tremble, to quake
Quarels, n. pl. Fr. fquare arrows
Queint, 7. See Junii Etymolog. in v.
Queinte, adj. Fr. ftrange; I made of that lefe full
R.
Rad, radde, pa. t. of rede, v. Sav. adviſed, ex-
plained, Du. 281
Radevore, tapeſtry; ras, in Fr. fignifies any ſtuff,
as ras de Chalons, ras de Gennés, ras de Vore or Vaur,
may be a fluff made at fuch a place, Gloff. Ur.
There is a town in Languedoc called La Faur,
but I know not that it was ever famous for ta
pestry
Rafles, n. pl. Fr. plays with dice
Rafte, pa. t. of reve, v. Sax, took away
Rage, v. Fr. to toy wantonly
Ragerie, n. wantonnefs
Ragounces, fhould probably be jagonces, as in the
orig. Fr. the precious ftones called jacinths er
hyacinths
Raines, pr. n. the city of Rennes in Bretagne
Rake-ftele, a. Sax. the handle of a rake
Rakel, adj. hafty, raſh
Rakelneſſe, ». raſhneſs
Raket, to play racket, nettle in dock out, feems to
be uſed as a proverbial expreffion, fignifying to
-
GLOSSARY.
Fot
Be inconftant; what the original of the phrafe Redouting, n. reverence
may have been, is not fo clear
Ramage, adj. Fr. wild
Rammith, adj. Sax. rank like a ram
Pedreffe, v. Fr. to recover, to make amends for
Refect, part. pa. Lat. recovered
Refiguring, part, pa. Fr. figuring again
Rampe, v. Fr. to climb; the rampeth in my face, Refrain, n. Fr. the burden of a fong
fhe rifes against me, flies in my face
Ran, pa. t. of renne, rannen, pl.
Rape, adv. quickly, fpeedily
Rape, n. hafte
Rape, v. Sax. to take captive; to rape and renne,
to feize and plunder. See Renne
Rafis, pr. n. an Arabian phyſician of the 10th cen-
tury. Sce Fabric. Bibl. Gr. t. xiii. p. 46, in v. Al-
bubecar
Rafkaile, n. a pack of rafcals
Rated, part. pa. chidden
Rathe, adv. Sar foon, early, ſpeedily
Rather, comp. d. fooner
Ratheft, fuperl. d. fooneſt
Rather, adj. Sax. comp. d. former
Ratouns, . pl. Fr. rats
Raught, pa. t. of ræcan, v. Sav. reached; on his
way he raught, he ſprang forth on his way.
Raught, pu. t. of reccan, v. Sux. cared, recked
Raveners, (ravinours) n. pl plunderers
Ravine, n. Fr. rapine; foules of raven, birds of
prey
Ravifable, adj. Fr. ravenous
Ravishing, part. pr. Fr. rapid; with a raviſhing
fweigh; rapido turbine, orig. See Swegh
Raunfon, #. Fr. ranſoni
Rayed, part. p. ftreaked or striped, Du. 252
Real, adj. Fr. royal
Realler, comp. d. more toyal
Reallich, adv. royally
Realtee, n. royalty
Rebekke, pr. . Rebecca
Rebekke, n. Fr. a muſical inſtrument
Rechafed, pa. t. Fr. a term in hunting, D. 579
Recche, rekke, v. Sax. to care
Reccheles, adj. careless
Reecheleſneffe, n. carclefinefs
Reclaime, v. Fr. a term in falconry for bringing
the hawk to the fift by a certain call
Reclaiming, 7. calling, in the ſenſe of reclaime
Recomfort, v. Fr. to comfort
Record, n. Fr. witneſs, teftimony
Recorde, v. Fr. to remember; it fometimes feems
to be uſed in a technical legal fenfe, for what is
called to enter upon record in judicial proceed-
ings
Recreandiſe, n. Fr. fignifies fear, cowardice, defer-
tion of principle
Recreant, adj. one who yields himſelf to his adver-
fary in fingle combat; for the full import of
thefe two words, fee Du Cange in v. Recre-
dentia
Recure, n. Fr. recovery
Recured, part. pa. Fr. recovered
Redde, red, pa. t. of rede, v. Sax.
Reddour, n. Fr. ftrength, violence
Fede, n. Sax. advice, counfel, a reed
|
Refraining, n. the finging of the burden of a fong
Refreide, v. Fr. to cool
Refrete, n. the fame as refrain, in Ber. it is printed
corruptly frefreit
Refte, rifte, n. Sax. a chink or crevice
Refute, n. Fr. refuge
Regals, n. pl. Fr. royalties
Regard, n. Fr. at regard of, with reſpect to, iq
compariſon of
Regne, n. Fr. a kingdom
Rehete, v. Fr. rehaiter, to revive, to cheer
Reheting, . according to feveral mff. and all the re-
heting of his fikes fore; fome mfl. and moſt of
the printed editions read richeffe inſtead of re-
heting, Gloff. Ur. Richeffe, though almoſt as
aukward an expreffion as the other, is more
agreeable to the correfponding paffage in the
Filoftrato-
E fofpir che gli avea a gran dovicia—
and one can hardly conceive that it could come
from any hand but that of the author. I can
make no fenfe of reheting; but at the fame time
I muſt allow, that it is not likely to have been in-
ferted by way of a glofs
[orig.
Reile, . neut. to rull; reileth diverfely; vogatur,
Reines. See Raines
Rejoie, v. Fr. to rejoice
Reke, v. Sux. to exhale
Reken, v. Sax. to reckon, to come to a reckoning
Rekes, n. pl. Sax, ricks (of corn)
Relaies, n. pl. Fr. freſh fets of hounds, Du. 364
Relefe, n. Sax, what is left
Relces; n. Fr. releaſe
Religioufite, n. Fr. perfons of a religious profeffion,
the clergy
| Relike, n. Fr. a relic, relikes, pl.
Remenant, n. Fr. a remnant, a remaining part
Remes, s. pl. Fr. realms
Remiffails, a. pl. Fr. orts, leavings
Remorde, . Fr. to cauſe remorse, to afflict
Remuable, adj. Fr. moveable, inconftant
Remue, remewe, remeve, v. Fr. to remove, Conf.
Am. 164. b.
Remued, pa. t.
Renably, adv. Fr. teaſonably
Renegate, n. Fr. an apoftate from Chriſtianity
Reneie; v. Fr. to renounce, to abjure
Renges, n. pl. Fr. ranks, the fteps of a ladder
Renne, v. Sax. to run, to rend
Renomee, #. Fr. renown
Renovelaunce, n. Fr. a renewing
Renovelle, v. Fr. to renew
Rent, v. Sax. tõ tear or rend™
Repaire, #. Fr. refort
Repaire, v. Fr. to return
Rede, v. Sax, to adviſe, to read, to explain, Du. 279 | Repentant, part. pr. Fr. repenting
Rede, adj. Sax. red
Redoute, v. Fr. to fear
Repreſe, repreve, n. Fr. reproof
[fing
Reprellion, », ſeems to be put for power of repicl-
Xy i
908
!
LOSSARY
Requere, v. Fr. to requirẻ
Rere, v. Sax. to raiſe
Refcous, n. Fr. reſcue
Refcowe, v. Fr. to reſcue
Refon, z. Fr. reaſon, proportion
Refons, a. pl. Fr. difcourfes
Refpite, n. may perhaps be put for refpec
Refpiten, inf. m. Fr. to grant a refpite, to excufe
Refport, n. is probably put for respect
Refte, n. Sax. repoſe
Refte, v. Sax. to repofe, to ceafe from labour
Retenue, n. Fr. retinue; at his retenue retained by
him
Rethor, n. Fr. Lat. an orator or rhetorician
Reve, n. Sax. a fteward or bailif
Reve, T. Sax. to take away
r.
Revel, n. Fr. entertainment, properly during the
night, ſport, feſtivity
Revelour, . a reveller
Revelrie,. pleaſure
Revers, adj. Fr. contrary
Reverſe, v. Fr. to overturn
Revert, v. Fr. to turn back
Reveſt, v. Fr. to clothe again
Es morg; ai Deus! cals perda et cals danz es!
Can eftraing moz et qan greu per audir!
Ben a dur cor toz hom co po fofrir.
Morz es li reis, et fon paffat mil an
Qanc tan pros hom no fo ne nol vit res,
Ne ia mais hom non et del fen fenblant,
Tan larcs, tan pros, tan ardiz, tals donaire;
Q Alixandres lo reis, qe venqi Daire,
No cuit qe tan dones ni tan meffes,
Ni an Charles ni Artus tan valgues,
Qa tot lo mon fen fez, qi n vol ver dir,
Als us doptar et als altres grazir.
Mf. Crofts, fol. 111.
Richeffe, n. Fr. wealth, richeffes, pl. riches
Riddeled, part. pa. plaited, Gloff. Ur.
Ridden, part. pa. of ride; he is ridden, they be
ridden, he had ridden
Ride, v. Sax. he rideth him
Riding, n. probably a proceffion
Rife, rive, v. Sax. to thrust through
Right, n. Sax. a right or due; at alle rightes, at
all points
Right, adj. good, true
Rew, n. a row or line; on a rew, in a line; all by Right, adv. truly, rightly, exactly, completely; it
rew. See A'row
Rewake, v. Sax. to waken again
Reward, n. Fr. regard, refpect; take reward of thin
own value, have regard to thine own value; in
reward of, in comparifon with. See Regard
Rewe, v. Sax. to have compaffion, to fuffer, to
have cauſe to repent
Reyes, n. pl. dances in ufe among the Dutch. Reye,
Belg. Gborea celerior, chorea in longam feriem,
lian
is frequently joined to adjectives, as the adverbs
well and full are, to augment their force
Rime, ». Fr. a compofition in rhyme; hence the
title of The rime of Sire Thopas. Rime-doge-
rel. See Dogerel
Rimeyed, part. pa. Fr. compofed in rhyme or
verfe
Rimpled, part. pa. Sax. wrinkled
Ki-Ring, v. Sax. to make to found, v. neut. to found
Rife, n. Sax. ſmall twigs of trees or buſhes
Rifhe, n. Sax. a ruſh
Riſt, for riſeth
Reyfed, "Les Gandois firent une refe fur les
"marches de Haynault, et dedans le pays pille-
"rent, bruflerent, et firent moult de maux.
Mem. de la March. p. 384, where a note in the
margin fays, "Revje en bas Alefnand," fignify
"un voyage ou courſe.”
Ribaninges, n. pl. feems to fignify borders
Ribaude, n. a poor labourer; but the word gene-
rally implies profligacy of manners, as well as
meannefs of condition. See Du Cange in v. Ri-
baldus
Ribaudrie, n. ribaldry, indecent words or actions
Ribibe, n. a fort of mufical inſtrument
Ribible, n. a ſmall ribibe
Richard, pr. I have vindicated the character of
this heroic prince from an afperſion which was
firſt caſt upon him, I find, by Mr. Rymer, in
confequence of a miſtaken conſtruction of a paf-
fage in Hoveden; I am tempted to add here the
beginning of a poem which, having been com-
pofed after his death, by Anfelem Faydit, muft
ftand clear of all ſuſpicion of having been either
begged or bought
For chaufaes et tot lo maior dan,
El maior dul, las! q eu anc mais agues,
Et zo, don dei toz temps plaigner ploran,
M aven a dir en chantar et retraire,
De cel q era de valorz caps et paire.
Li reis valenz Rizard, reis des Englés,
4
Rit, for rideth
Rivage. See Arivage
Rive, v. neut. Sax. to ſplit, to fall afunder
Riveling, part. pr. Sax. wrinkling; ruyffelen, Belg.
rugare, Kilian
Roche, n. Fr. a rock; roches, pl.
Rode, n. Sax. the crofs; rode-beem; it is alfo call-
ed the rode-tree, from its being made of wood
Rode, n. Sax. complexion
Rody, adj. Sax. ruddy
Rofe, pa. t. of rife; rofte fhould probably be roſe
Rogge, v. Sax. to ſhake; roggyn or mevyn, agito,
Prompt. Parv.
Roigne, n. Fr. a ſcab, mange
Roignous, adj. Fr. ſcabby, rough
Rokette, n. Fr. a looſe upper garment
Roking, part. pr. of rokke or rogge, v. neut. Sax,
fhaking, trembling; roggyn or waveryn, vacillo,
Promp. Parv.
Rombel, n. a rumbling noiſe, rumour
Rome, v. Sax, to walk about
Rondel, n. Fr. a rhyme or fonnet which ends as it
begins, Cotgrave
Rone, pr. n. Rouen in Normandy
Rone, pa. t. of rain, v. Sax. rained
Ropen, fart. fa. of repe, v. Sax. reaped
Rofalgar, red arfenic, a preparation of orpiment
Chambers in v. Realgar. It fhould rather per
GLOSSAR Y.
709
haps have been written Ryfalgar, with mff.c.1, Sadly, adv. ſteadily, carefully; this meffenger
as the Latin name is rifigallum
Rofen, adj. rofy
Rofer, n. Fr. a roſebuſh
Rofe-red, adj. red as a role
Rote, n. Sax. a root
See Du Cange in
See Du Cange in
in the roth cen-
Rote, a root in aftrology
Rote, n. a muſical inftrument.
v. Rocta. Notker, who lived
tury, fays that it was the ancient pfaltarium, but
altered in its ſhape, with an additional num-
ber of ftrings, Schilter, in v. Rotta
Rote, . Fr. practice; by rote, by heart, par rotine,
Gotg.
Rote, v. Sax. to rot
Roten, part. pa.
Rother, n. Sax. the rudder of a fhip
Rought, for raught, fa. t. of recche
Rouke. Sax, to lie clofe; but now they rucken in
her neft Comf. Am. 72.
Roule, v. neut. Sax. to roll, to run eafily; where
fome copies have royle. See Reile
Roume, n. Sax. room, ſpace
Roume, adj. wide, fpacious
Roumer, comp. d. wider
Rouncevall, pr. n.
Rouncie, n. barb. Lat. a common hackney horſe.
See Du Cange in v. Runcinus
Roundel, n. Fr. a fort of fong. See Rondel-a cir-
cular figure
Route, a. Fr. a company
Poute, v. to affemble in a company
Route, v. Fr. to fnore, to rear,
Routhe, n. Sax. compaffion, the object of compaf-
fion
Routheles, adj. without compaffion
Row, n. a line of writing. See Rew
Row, adj. Sax. rough,--he loked wel rowe
Rowne, v. Sar. to whisper
Rubeus. See Puella
Rubins, n. pl. Fr. rubies
Rucking, fart. pr. of rucke, or rouke, v. Sax. ly-
ing clofe
Rudde, n. Sax. complexion. See Rode
Ruddock, n. Sax. a bird called robin red-breaſt
Rufus, pr. n. a Greek phyſician, of whofe works
fome are extant. See Fabric. Bibl. Gr. 1. iv. c.
3.
Ruggy, adj. rough
drank fadly ale and wine; this meſſenger ap-
plied himſelf to drink, ale and wine
Sadness, n. gravity, fleadineſs
Saffron, Fr. to tinge with faffron
Saie for ſeie, pa. t. of ſe v. Sax. faw
Saile, v. Fr. to affail
Sailours, n. pl. may mean dancers, from the Lat. Fr.;
fo in Pierce Plough, 68, for I can-neither faylen,
ne faute, ne fyng, to the gyterne: the lines
which Chaucer has here tranflated are not
in the beſt edit. of the Rom. de la Rofe, Pa-
ris, 1735, but they are quoted by Junius, Etym.
Ling. Angl. in v. Timbeftere, from an edit. of
15293
Apres y eut farces joyeuſes,
Et batelleurs et batelleufes,
Qui de paffe paffe jouoyent.
Et en l'air ung baffin ruoyent,
Puis le fcavoyent bien recuillir
Sur ung doy, fans point y faillir.
where it is plain that the author is fpeaking of
jugglers rather than dancers
Saine, for feine, part. pa. of le, v. Sax. feen
Saine, fr. n. the giver Seine
Salade, n. Fr. a fort of armour for the breaft
Salades, n. pl. Fr. fallads of herbs
Salewe, ſalue, v. Fr. to falutė
Salued, part, pa.
Saluinges, n. pl. falutations
Samite, n. Fr. Gr. a rich filk. See Du Cange in v.
Examitus
Sanguin, adj. Fr. of a blood-red colour
Sarlinithe, fhould perhaps be farfinishe, from the
Fr. farrafinois, a fort of fine filk uſed for veils.
See Du Cauge in v. Saracenicum and Saracenum.
It is ftill called farcenet
Sarpleres, n. pl. packages of a larger fize than
facks. See Du Cange in v. Sarplerium. Surpil
lére, Fr. a piece of canvas, &c. to wrap or pack
up wares in. Cotgrave
Saten, pa. t. pl. of fit, v. Sax.
Satalie, pr. n. the ancient Attalia
Save, n. Lat. the herb fage
Sauf, adj. Fr. fafe. See Vouche-faved or excepted
Saveté, n. Fr. fafety
Saule, for foule
Ruffel, pr.n. the fox is called Dan Ruffel, from his Savour, v. neut. Fr. to tafte, to reliſh
red colour, I ſuppoſe
S.
Sachelles, n.pl. Fr. fmall facks
Sacked freres, friars wearing a coarfe upper gar
ment, called faccus, Mat. Paris, ed. an. 1257;
"Eodem tempore novus ordo apparuit Londini
"de quibufdam fratribus ignotis et non prævi-
fis, qui, quia fuccis incedebant induti, Fratres
"Saccati vocabentur."
Şacre, n. Fr. a facred folemnity
Sade, adj. Sax. grave, fteady, forrowful, repents
ant
Savouring, n. Fr. the fenfe of tafting.
Savourous, adj. fweet, pleaſant
Saufefleme, a compofition, of which two of the in-
gredients are brimftone and quickfilver
Sautes, n. pl. Fr. affault
Sautrie, n. Fr. Gr. a muſical ſtring inftrument. See
Rote
Sawe, n. Sax. fpeech, difcourfe- a proverb or
wife faying
Say, for ſey, pa. t. of ſe, v. Sax. faw
Scall, n. Sax. a ſcale or ſcab
Scalled, adj. fcabby, fcurfy
Scantilone, n. Fr. a pattern, a fcantling
Scarce, adj. Fr. fparing, ftingy
Scariot, prim. Judas Iscariot
Yij
$16
፡
GLOSSARY.
?
Scarmifhe, n. Fr. a fkirmish, a battle
Scathe, n. Sax. harm, damage
Scatheful, fcatheliche, adj. pernicious
Scatheles, adj. without harm
Sclaundre, n. Fr. flander
Selendre, adj. flender
Scochons, . pl. Fr. fcutcheons of arms
Scolaie, v. Fr. to attend fchool, to study
Script, u. Ir. a writing
Scriptures, n. pl. Fr. writings, books
Scriven-like, like a fcrivener or writing-mafter;
comme une eſcrivain
Seames, n. pl. Sav. feams futuræ
Secree, adj. Fr. fecret
Secreneffe, n. privacy
[rical,
Seculer, adj. Fr. of the laity, in opposition, to cle-
Sede, v. Sav. to produce feed
See, n. Fr. a feat, fees, pl.
Sce, v. Sav. to fee; God you fee: God him fee;
may God keep you or him in his fight; God
you fave and fee; to look; on to fee to look
on-that
-that ye wolden fometime frendly on mefee;
that ye would fometimes look friendly on me
See, n. av. the fee; the grete fee. A learned
friend has fuggefted to me, that the fea on the
coal of Paleſtine is called The Great Sea in the
Eible, [See Numb. xxxiv. 6, 7, Fob xv. 12,]
which puts the meaning of the appellation in
this paffage out of all doubt
Sege, n. Fr. a fiege
Seie, fcy, pa. t. of ſee, v. Sax. ſaw, part. pa. ſeen
Seignorie n. Fr. power
Sein, part. pa. of fee, u Sax. feen
Seinde, part. pa. of fenge, v. Sax. finged
Seint, n. Fr. ceinct, a girdle
Seintuarie, n. Fr. fanctuary
Seke, v. Sav. to feek
Sekc, adj. Sax. fick
Selden, adv. Sax. feldom, felden time
Sele, n. Fr. a fcal, feles, pl.
P
Self, felve, adj, Sax. anſwering to the Belg. felf, the
Fr. même, the Lat. ipfe, and the Gṛ. Auros. With
the article prefixed, it anfwers to the Lat. idem
and the Goth. Samo, from whence our fame; in
the felve moment, in the fame moment; in the
felve place, in the fame place. Theſe two
ufages of the adj. felf, when joined to a fubftan-
tive, might be confirmed by the uniform practice
of all our writers from the earliest times down to
SHAKSPEARE, but as they are both now obfolete,
I chooſe rather to take this opportunity of adding
a few words, upon the ufage of the adj. felf,
when joined to a pronoun, in which light only
it appears to have been confidered by Wallis, |
when he pronounced it a fubftantive, anfwering
nearly to the Latin perfona.-Dr. Johnfon, in his
Dictionary, has very rightly eſtabliſhed the pri-
mary fignification of felf to be that of an adjec-
tive; but in its connexions with pronouns he
deems rather inclined to fuppofe it a fubftantive;
firſt, becauſe it is joined to poffeffive or adjec-
tive pronouns, as my, thy, her, &c.; and, fe-
condly, bec rfe it has a plural number, felves,
contrary to the nature of the English adjective.
The latter reafon, I think, cannot have much
weight, when it is remembered that the use of
felves, as the plural number of felf, has been in-
troduced into our language fince the time of
Chaucer. Selven, which was originally the ac-
cufative ca. fing. of felf, is ufed by him indiffe-
rently in both numbers; 1 myfelven; ye your-
felven; he himfelven. The former reafon al-
fo will lofe its force, if this fhall be admitted, that-
in their combinations with felf, the pronouns
my, thy, her, our, your, are not to be confider-
ed as poffeffive or adjective, but as the old o-
blique cafes of the perfonal pronouns, I, thou,
fhe, we, ye. According to this hypothefis the
uſe of theſe combinations, with refpect to the
pronouns, is almost always folecistical, but not
more fo than that of himſelf in the nominative
cafe, which has long been authorifed by con-
ftant cuftom; and it is remarkable that a fole-
cifm of the fame fort has prevailed in the French
language, in which mei and toi, the abl. cafes of
je and tu, when combined with même, are ufed as
ungrammatically as our my and thy have juſt
been fuppofed to be when combined with felf, Je
l'ai vu moi-même, I have feen it myfelf; tu le ver-
ras toi-même, thou fhalt fee it thyſelf; and ſo in the
accufative cafe, moi-même is added emphatically
to me, and toi-même to te.It is probable,
think, that thefe departures from grammar in
both languages have been made for the fake of
fuller and more agreeable founds. Je-même, me-
même, tu-même, and te-même, would certainly
found much thinner and more languid than moi-
même and toi même; and myſelf, thyself, &c. are
as clearly preferable, in point of pronunciation,
to Ifelf, mefelf, thoufelf, theefeif, &c. though
not all, perhaps, in an equal degree. It should
be obferved that itſelf, where a change of cafe
in the pronoun would not have improved the
found, has never undergone any altera-
tion
Selle, n. Fr. cellc, cell
:
Selle, for fille, n. Sav. a door-fill or threſhold
Selve, adj. See Self
Sely, adj. Sav. filly, fimple, harmleſs
Selynelle, n. Sax happineſs
Semblable, adj. Fr. like
Semblaunt, n. Fr. feeming, appearance
Semeliche, femely, adj. Sax. feemly, comely
Semeliefte, fuperl. d.
Semely hede, n. feemlinefs, comeliness
Semifoun, n. Lat a low or broken tone
Semicope, n a half or ſhort cloak
Sen, fene, inf. m. of ſe, part. pa.
Send, for fendeth
[Luzza
Sendall, n. a thin filk. See Du Cange in v. Genda-
Senek, pr. n. Seneca the philofopher
Senge, v. Sax, to finge
Senior, pr. n.
f
Sentence, n. Fr. fenfe, meaning, judgment
Septe, pr. n. Ceuta, formerly Septa, in Africa,
over-againſt Gibraltar
Sepulture, n. Fr.
grave
Serapion, pr. a. Joannes Serapion, an Arabian
phyſician of the 11th century, Fabric. Bibl. Gre
t. xiii. p. 299
GLOSSARY.
*İT
ช
Sere, adj. Sax. dry
Sergeant, n. Fr. a fquire attendant upon a prince
or nobleman, a fergeant of the lawe. His
name is derived from his having been originally
2 fervant of the king in his law buſineſs, fer-
viens ad legem, juſt as ferviens ad arma. The king
had formerly a fergeant in every country. Spel-
man in v. Serviens
Seri, n Fr. feries
Sermoning, ». Fr. preaching
Servage, n. Fr. fervitude, flavery
Servand, fart. pr. of ſerve, ſerving
Serve, v. Fr. to ferve, to behave to
Set, for fetteth; for fette, pa. t. ·
Setewale, n. Sax. the herb valerian
Sethe,. to boil
Sethe, for fethed, pa..
Sette, v. Sax. to place, to put; fetteth him doun,
placeth himſelf on a feat; yet fette I cas, yer
I put the cafe, or fuppofe-to put a value on a
thing, to rate; I n'olde fette his forrow at a
myte, I would not value his forrow-to fette a
man's cappe, to make a fool of him. Sette, pa. t.
Seurement, n. Fr. fecurity, in a legal fenfe
Seuretee, n. Fr. certainty, furety, in a legal fenfe
Sewe, v. Fr to follow
Sewes, n. pl. Fr. difnes
Seye. See Seie
Shadde, pa. t. of thede, v. Sax. fell in drops
Shadde, pa. t. of fhade, v. Sax. ſhaded, covered
with fhade
Shadowy, adj. Sax. unſubſtantial
Shaft, n. ax. an arrow
Shal, auxil. v. Sax. is uſed fometimes with an el-
lipfis of the infinitive mood, which ought to fol-
low it, beth fwiche as I have ben to you and
fhal, i.e. fhall be; firft tell me whither I fhal, i. e.
fhall go; yet all is don or fhal, i. e. fhall be done
fhall be done
Shale, n. Sax. a fhell or hufk; but all n'is worthe
a nutte fhale
་
Shalmies, ». pl. fhalms, muſical ſtring inftruments,
otherwife called pfalteries or fautries. See Rote
Shame, n. Sax. fhames dethe, a death of ſhame, a
fhameful death; to York he did him lede,
fchames dede to deie
Shamefaſt, adj. Sax. modeſt
Shape, n. Sax. form, figure
Shapelich, adj. Sax. fit, likely
figured, prepared
|
|
|
fherte; I would give my fhirt, i. e. all that I
have-It ſeems to mean the linen in which a
new-born child is wrapped; that ſhapen was my
dethe erft than my fherte.
O fatel fuftren, whiche or any clothe
Me fhapen was, my deftinee me fponne-
Sens firft that day that ſhapen was my fherte.
Or by the fatal fufter had my dome.-
Alas! that I ne had brought her in my fhert! it
feems to be put for ſkirt, (or lap) which per-
haps was the original word.
Shete, v. Sax. to ſhoot
Shetes, n. pl. Sax. fheets
Shette, fhet, v. Sax. to cloſe or ſhut. Shette, fhet,
pa. t. and part. fo was hire herte fhette in hire
diftreffe, fo was her heart overwhelmed with
her diftrefs
Shift; . Sar. to divide
Shilde, fhelde, v. Sax. to fhield; God fhilde! God
fhield or forbid
Shipman, ». Sax. a mariner, the maſter of a barge
Shiver, n. Sax. a fmall flice
2
Shode, n. Sax. the hair of a man's head
Shode, part. pa. of fhoe, v. Sax. thod, having ſhoeson
Shove, pa. t. of ſhove, v. Sax. puſhed
Shonde, z. Sax. harm
| Shope, pa. t. of ſhape
Shore, bart. pa. of fhere
Short, v. Sax. to make fhort
Shot, part. pa. of fhette, ſhut
Shoter, n. Sax. a fhooter. The yew tree is called
fhoter, becauſe bows are ufually made of it
Shottes, a. pl. Sax. arrows, darts, any thing that is
fhot
Shove, fhowve, v. Sax. to pufh; ſhove, part. pa.
Shrewe, v. Sax. to curfe
Shrewe, n. Sax. an ill tempered curit man or wo
man; fhrewes, pl.
Shrewed, adj. Sax. wicked; fhreude folk
Shrewedneſſe, n. Sax. ill-nature
Shrift, n. Sax. confeſſion
Shrifte-faders, n. pl. Sax. father confeffors
Shright, for Bricheth, fhrieketh
Shright, pa. t. of fhrich, v. Sax. fhrieked
Shrive, v. Sax. to make confeffion
Shapen, ſhape, part. pa. of thape, v. Sax. formed, Shriven, part. pa. I have ben fhriven this day of
Shawe, n. Sax. a fhade of trees, a grove
my curat; I have made my confeffion this day
to my curate
Shefe, n. Sax, a bundle; a fheaf of arrows; fheves, Shroude, v. Sav. to hide
pl. of corn
Shefeld, pr. n. Sheffield in Yorkshire
Sheld, n. Sax, a ſhield; ſheldes, pl. French crowns,
called in Fr ecus, from their having on one fide
the figure of a fhield
Shulde, pa. t. of fhal, fhould; fhulden, pl.
Shullen, fhuln, fhul, ind. m. pr. t. pl. of thal
|
Sibbe, adj. Sax. related, allied
|
Sie, for feie, faw
Sift, v. Sex. to fhake in a fieve
Sigh, for feie, faw
Sighte, pa. t. of fike, fighed
Shemering, n. Sax. a glimmering
Shend, v. Sax, to ruin
Shendſhip, z. ruin, puniſhment
Shene, adj. Sax. bright, fhining
Shent, part. pa. of ſhend
Shepen, n. Sax, a ftable
Shere, v. Sax. to cut-to fhave.
Signe, v. Fr. to appoint
Signifer, n. Lat. the zodiac
Signifiaunce, n. Fr. fignification
Sike, adj. Sax. fick: it fometimes feems to be uſed
as a noun, for ſickneſs
Sherte, n. Saw, a ſhirt. I hadde lever than my Sike, v. Sex. to figh
Y y iij
712
GLOSSARY.
Sike, n. Sax. a figh, fikes, pl.
Siker, adj. Sax. fure
Sikerde, part. pa. of ſiker, v. Søx. affured
Sikerneffe," fecurity
Sikeriy, adv. furely
Simpleffe,
F fimplicity
Sin, adv. Sax. abbrev. of fithen, fince
Sinamone, n. Fr. cinnamon
Sip, n. Sax. drink
•
|
Sloveteffe, adj. feems to fignify idle, unprofitable,
as it does fill in vulgar language
Slider, adj. Sax flippery
Sliding, part. pr. uncertain, Lydg. Tra. 99. t.
fliding fortune, lubrica fortuna, orig.
Slie, fligh, adj. Sax. cunning
Slike, for fwilke, adj. Sax. fuch
Slit, for flideth
Slit, v. Sax. to cut through, to cleave
Sliver, n. Sax. a fmall flice or piece
Slo, p. Sax. to flay-
Slogardie, n. Fr.ſloth
Sipher, n. a cypher or figure of o in arithmetic;
although a ſipher in augrim have no might in
fignification of itfelfe, yet he yeveth power in
fignification to other. There is another paffage
in Du. ver. 435-40,
-40, which ſeems to imply that
in Chaucer's time the numerals commonly called
Arabian,had not been long in uſe in this country
Sire, n. Fr. Sieur, Seigneur, a reſpectful title given
formerly to men of various deſcriptions, as well
as to knights; Sire knight, Sire clerk, Sire
monk, Sire man of lawe. It was fo uſually |
given to priefts that it has crept even into acts
of parliament; Rot. Parl. 12 and 13 E. IV. n. Smit, for fmiteth, ind. m. 3d perf. fing.
14. Sir James Thekenes prefte; r. H. VII. p. Smiteth, imp. m. 2d perf. pl. Ímite ye
11, Sir Oliver Langton preft; Sir Robert Nay-Smithe, v. Sax. to forge as a fmith
lefthorp preft. Hence a Sir John came to be a
nickname for a priest. Sire is fometimes put for
perfonage; and melancholy that angry Sirc.-
Our Sire, our huſband, our goodman, as the
French in their old familiar language ufe notre
Sire
Slomberinges, n. pl. Sav. flumberings
Sloppe, n. Sax. a fort of breeches
Slow, pa. t. of flv, flew
Slowe, n. Sax. a moth. In the orig. Fr. taigne.
Sluggy, adj. Sax, fluggiſh
Smallſh, adj. Sax. diminutive of fmale or ſmall
Smerte, v. Sav. to fmart, to fuffer pain.
•
Sis,n. Fr. the caſt of fix, the highest caft upon a die
Sit, for fitteth, it fit me not to lie, it doth not be-
come me to lie; it fyt a kynge well to be chaft,
Conf. Am. 168. b.
Sithe, for fithes, n. pl. Sax. times
Sithen, fith, adv. Sax. fince
Sithes, n pl. Sax. fithes
Smerte, feems to be uſed as an adv. fmartly, Gloſſ.
v. Forthought
瞿
​Smitted, for fmitten, part. pa. of fmite
Smokles, adj. Sax, without a fmock
Smoterlich, adj. means, I fuppofe, fmutty, dirty;
but the whole paffage is obfcure
Snéwe, v. Sax. to fnow, to be in as great abun-
dance as ſnow
Snibbe, v. Saxi to ſnub, to reprove
Snow-white, adj. Sax. white as fnow
Soden, adj. Sax. fudden
Soget, n. Fr. fubject
Soigne, n. Fr. care
Sojour, n. Fr. ſtay, abode
Søken, n. Sax. toll
Sit'e, v. Sax. to fit-to become, to fuit with. Sec | Sokingly, adv. fuckingly, gently. See Souke.
Sit
Sittand, part. pr.
Sitten, part. pa.
Skaffaut, n. r. a fcaffold, a wooden tower
Skaffold, n. a fcaffold or ftage
Sue, n. bax. a cloud
Skill, n. Sax reafon; fkilles, pl.
Skilful, adj. reaſonable
Skinke, v. Sua'. to pour out, to ſerve with drink
Skipte, pa. t. of ſkippe, v. Saw, leaped ·
Skogan, pr. n.
Skorcle, v. Sax. to fcorch
Skrippe, n. Fr. eſcharpe, a ſcrip
Slacke, adj. Sax. flow
Slain, part. pa. of fie
1
Siake, v. Sax. to appeaſe, to make flack
Slake, v. neut. to fail, to defift
Slawe, part. pa. of fle
Sle, v. Sax to kill, to flay
Sleer, n. Sax. a killer
Sleighly, ady. Sav. cunningly
Sleight, n. Sax. contrivance
Sleightes, pl. fuche fleightes as I fhall you neven-
fo this line fhould probably be written
Glen, pr. t, pl. of fle, inf. m.
Slep, flepe, pa. t. of flepe, v. Sax. flept
Blete, n. Sax. fleet, a mixture of rain and fnow
J
Solas, n. Fr. mirth, sport
Solein, adj. Fr. one, fingle, fullen
Solempne, adj. Fr. folemn
Solempnely, adv. foleninly
Soler hall, a folere window is ufed for the window
of a loft or garret
Som, adj. Sax. fome; this is all and fom, this is
the whole; all and fome, one and all
Somdel, adv. Sav, fomewhat, in fome meaſure
Sonier, pr. z. In the treatiſe on the Aftrolabe, Ch.
profeffes to make ufe of the kalenders of the
reverent clerkes frere John Somer and frere
Nicholas Lenne. The kalendar of John Somur
is extant in mf. Cotton, Vefp. E. vii.; it is calcu
lated for 140 years from 1367, the year of the
birth of Richard II., and is laid in the introduc-:
tion to have been publiſhed in 1380, at the in-
ftance of Joan mother to the king.. The kalen-
dar of Nicholas Lenne or Lyne, was calculated
for 76 years from 1387. Tanner in v. Nicolaus
Linenfis. The ſtory there quoted from Ḥakluit,
of a voyage made by this Nicholas in 1300,
ad infulas feptentriquales antehac Europ is incognitas,
and of a book written by him to decribe thofe,
countries a grudu 54 ufque ad polum, is a mere
fable, as appears from the very authorities which
Hakluit has produced in fupport of it
GLOSSARY.
253
;
Somme, lo! Troilus--came riding with his tenthe
fomme ifere; fo this line ftands in the edit., but
a mf. quoted in Gloff. Ur. inſtead of tenthe has
X. and mf. I. tenteth; perhaps the original
reading was XX. With his twentyfome ifere,
according to the Saxon mode of expreffion,
would fignify together with fome twenty of his
attendants. See Hickes Gramm. A. S. p. 32, 3.
Somme, n. Fr. a fum
1
Sommer, n. Sax. fummer; a ſommer game
Somone, fompne, v. Lat, to fummon
Sompnour, n. an officer employed to fummon de-
linquents to appear in ecclefiaftical courts, now
called an Apparitor
Sond, n. Sax. fand
[Fr. fonde
Sond, a feems to fignify a founding line, from the
Sonde, n. Sax a meffage, Goddees fonde, what
God has fent, God's gift
Sone, adv. Sax, foon
Sone, n: Sex. a fon; ſones, pl.
Sonken, part. pa. of fink, v. Sax, funk
Sonne, n. Sa, the fun
Sonnish, adj. Sav. like the fun
Sooty, adj. Sax. foul with foot
Sop, n. Fr. a piece of bread dipped in any fort of
liquor; he toke a foppe, Conf. Am. 104
Sophime, no. Fr. Gr. a fophifm, a fubtle fallacy
Sore, v. Fr. efforer, to foar
Sort, n. Fr. chance, deſtiny
Sorted, pa. t. of fort, v. Fr. aliotted
Sorwe, n. Sax. forrow
Sory, adj. Sax. forrowful;
fory grace, misfortune.
See Grace and With
Sote, n. Sax. foot
Sote, ſwote, adj. Sax. ſweet
Sote, n. Fr. a fool
Soted, part. pa. Fr. fooled, befotted
Sotel, adj. Fr. fubtle, artfully contrived
Soth, adj. Sev. true, certain; fother, comp, d.
Soth, fothly, adv. truly
Sothe, n: Sax. truth
Sothfaftneffe, n. Sav. truth
Sotherne, adj. Sax. ſouthern
Sothneſs, n. dqv. truth, reality
Soth-faw, n. veracity, true faying
Soudan, n. a fultan, any Mahometan fovereign.
See D'Herbelot in v. Sothan.
Soudanneffe, n. the wife of a fultan
Souded, purt. pa, confolidated, faſtened together.
Sowde-metal, confolidum. Prompt. Parv.
Soveraine, adj. Fr. excellent in a high degree
Soverainly, adv. above all
Souke, v. Fr. to fuck
Souked, part. pa.
1
.
Souled, part. pa. Sax. endued with a foul
Soun, n. Fr. found, noiſe
Sounde, v. Sax, to make found, to heal, v. meuf, to
grow found
Soune, v. Fr. to found; as fer as founeth into ho-
neftee, as far as is confonant to honefty; that
founeth unto gentilleffe of love, that is confo
nan.. to gentleneſs of love
Souning, part. pr.
Soupe, v. Fr. to fup, to take the evening meal,
foupen, plai
|
Souper, z. fupper, the evening meal
».
Souple, adj. Fr. fupple, pliant
Sourde, v. Fr. to rife
Sours, n. a rife, a rapid afcent, the fource of a
ftream of water
Souter,n. Lat. a cobler
Y
Sowe, v. Lat. to few; it was ufual, and indeed
neceffary, formerly to few letters when they
were written upon parchment; but the prac
tice continued long after the invention of paper
[409
Sowe, v. Sax. to fow.
Sowers, n. pl. fores, bucks in their fourth year, Du
Span-pewe, adj. feems to fignify quite new, but
why it does so I cannot pretend to ſay
Spanniſhing, n. Fr. eſpanouiffement, the full blow
of a flower
Spare, v Sax. to refrain
Spareth, imp. m. 2d perf. pl.
Sparande, part. pr. fparing, niggardly
Sparhauk, n. Sax. a fparrowhawk
Sparre, n. Sax. a wooden bar
Sparred, part. pa. barred, bolted
Sparthe, n Sax an ax or halberd. See Du Cange in
v. Sparth, Securis, Danica
Speces, n. pl. Fr. forts or kinds
Spede, v. Fr. to diſpatch
Spedeful, adj. effectual
Spektakel, . Fr. Lat. a fpying-glafs
Spell, n. Sax. fport, play, tale, or hiſtory
Spence, n. Fr. defpence, a ftore-room for wine or
victuals
Spere, n. Fr. a fphere
Spere, n. Sax. a Ipear
Spered, fperred, as fparred
Sperme, . Fr. Gr. feed
1
Spiced. I have fince met with a paffage in which
fpiced, applied to confcience, feems to fignify
nice, ſcrupulous. Beaumont and Fletcher, Mad
Lover, at iii, when Cleanthe offers a purfe the
prieftefs fays,
Fy no corruption-
Cle. Take it; it is yours:
Be not fofpiced: it is good gold,
And goodneſs is no gall to the confcience.
Spices; as Speces
Spille, . Sax. to wafte, to throw away, to deſtroy,
c. 7. to perish
Spire, n. a ftake; a corruption probably of Spere,
Sax.
Spired, Sax, enquired
Spitous, adj. Fr. difpiteux, angry, ſpightful
Spitoufly, adv. angrily
Splaie, v. Fr. defpoiler, to unfold
Spone, n. Sar. a ſpoon
Sponne, pa. t. of ſpinne, v. Sax. fpun
Spore, n.. Sav. a ſpur
Sporne, v. Sax. to ftrike the foot againſt any thing
Spoufaile, n. Fr. marriage
Spray, a. Sax. a twig or ſprig
Spreint, part. pa. of iprenge, v. Sax, fprinkled
Springolds, n. pl. Fr. eſpringalle, machines for caft-
ing ftones and arrows. See Du Cange in v. Muf-
cbetsa
है
714
GLOSSARY.
Squames, n.pl. Lat. fcales
Squaimous, fqueamish
Squier, n. Er. a ſquire
Squier, v. to attend as a fquire
Squierie, n. a number of fquires: and alle ther
fquieric; and of his fquierie gentillemen auhtene
Stace, pr. n. Satius the Roman poet
Stacke, n. Sax. a stack of wood, &c.
Stacke, pa. t. of ſtick, v. Sax. ftuck
Staff-fling, means, I ſuppoſe, a fling faſtened to a
faff. Lyd. Tra. 39, b. defcribes David as armed
With a ffe fynge, voyde of plate and mayle.
Staker, v. Sax. to ſtagger
Stalke, v. Sax. to ftep flowly; full thefely gan he
ftalke; and to the bedde he ftalketh ftylle, Conf.
/m. 32
Stalkes, n. pl. Sax. the upright pieces of a ladder
Stamen, ftamin, n. Fr. eftamine, a fort of woollen
cloth
Stant, for ftandeth
Starfe, pa. t. of ſterve, died
Stark, adj. Sax. ftiff, ftout
Starlinges, n. pl. pence of ſterling money
Staunche, v. Fr. to ftop, to fatisfy
Stele, n. Sax a handle
Stellifie, v. Lat. to make a ſtar
Stente, v. Sax. to ceafe, to defift
Stenten, part.pa.
Stepe, adj. feems to be used in the fenfe of deep,
fo that eyen ftepe may fignify eyes funk deep
in the head
Stere, v. Sax. to ftir
Stere, 2. Sax. a young bullock; a rudder
Stereles, adj. Sax. without a rudder
Sterefman, Sax. a pilot
Sterne, n. Sax, a rudder
Sterne, adj Sax fierce, cruel
Sterre, n. Sax, a ftar
Stert, n. Sax. a leap; at a ftert, immediately
Sterte, pa. t. of fterte, v. Sax. leaped, eſcaped, ran
away
Sterting, part. pr. leaping, nimbly
Stertling, as fterting
Sterve, v. Sax. to die, to periſh
Steven, n. Sax. voice, found; a time of performing
any action previouſly fixed by a meffage, order,
fummons, &c.; at unfet fteven, without any
previous appointment; they fetten fteven, they
appointed a time
Stewe, n. Fr. a ſmall pond for fifh, a ſmall cloſet,
ftewes, pl. ftews, baudyhouſes
Steye, v. sax. to afcend
Steyers, n. pl. Sax. ftairs
Stibborne, adj. ftubborn
Stike, v. Sax. to flick, pierce
Stile, n. Sax. a fet of steps to pafs from one field to
another; by ſtile and cke by ftrete, every where
in town and country
Stillatorie, n. Fr. a ftill
Stille, adj. Sax, quiet
Stithe, n. Sax. an anvil
Stives, as Stewes
Stoble-goos, a goofe fed on ſtubble grounds
Stocked, part. pa. confined
Stole, n. Fr. Lat. part of the ecclefiaflical habit,
worn about the neck. See Du Cange in v. Stela 2.
Stole, n. Sax, a ftool
Stonden, part. pa. of ftonde or ftande, v. Sax. ftood
Stont, for ftondeth
Stopen, part. pa. of ſtepe, v. Sax. stepped, advanced ·
Store, n. Fr. to ftock or furnish
Store, n. any thing laid up for ufe; hence the
phrafe to tell no ſtore of a thing, means to con-
fider it as of no ufe or importance
Storial, adj. Fr. hiftorical, true
Storven, pa. t. pl. of ſterve
Stot, n. Sax, probably for ftod, a ſtallion
Stote, n. a ſpecies of weafel, a polecat
Stound, n. Sax. a moment, a fhort fpace of time, in
a ftound, on a fudden; in ftound, fhould pro-
bably be in a ſtound: the orig. Fr. has tantoft.
Stoundes, pl. times, feaſons
Stoundemcle, adv. momentarily, every moment
Stoupen, fhould probably be ftopen.
Stoure, n. Sax. fight, battle
Strake, v. Sax. to proceed directly; ftracken, ftrick-
en; tendere, Kilian
Strange, adj. Fr. foreign, uncommon; he made it
ftrange, he made it a matter of difficulty crnicety
Straughte, pa. t. of ſtreche, v .Sax. ftretched, Conf.
Am. 184
Stre, n. Sax. ſtraw
Streight, part. pa. of ſtrecche, v. Sax. ftretched
Streine, v. Fr. to conſtrain, to prefs clofely
Streite, adj. Fr. ftraight; frcite ſwerd
Stremeden, pa. t. pl. of ftreme, v. Sax. ftreamed
flowed
Stremes, n. pl. the rays of the fun
Strene, n. Sax. ftock, race, progeny
Strengeft-faithed, adj. endowed with the strongest
faith
Strepe, v. Fr. to ftrip
Strete, n. Sax. a street
Strike, n. Sax. a line, a ftreak; a ftrike of flax
Stripe, v. Lat. ftirps, race, kindred
Stripe, v. as Strope
Strode, pr. n. the philofophical Strode, to whom,
jointly with the moral Gower, Chaucer directs his
Troilus, was probably Ralph Strode, of Merton-
college, Oxford. A. Wood, who had made the
antiquities of that college a particular object of
his inquiries, fays only of him, Radulphus
"Strode, de quo fic vetus nofter catalogus. Peeta
"fuit et verfificavit librum elegiacum vocat.
"Phantaſma Rodulphi. Claruit 1370." Somę
of his logical works are faid to be extant in
print, Venet. 1517, 4to. Tanner in v. Stedeus.
Strof, pa. t. of ftrive, v. Fr. ftrove, contended
Stronde, n. Sax, a fhore
Strother, pr. n. a town in the north
Stroute, v. to ftrut
Subarbes, n. pl. Lat. fuburbs
Subfumigation, 2. Lat. a fpecies of charm by ſmoke
Subget, adj. Fr. Lat. fubject
Sublimatorie, n. Fr. Lat. a veffel uſed by chemiſts in
fublimation, i. e. feparating certain parts of a
body, and driving them to the top of the veſſel
in the form of a very fine powder
GLOSSARY.
7I5
Subſtance, n. Fr. the material part of a thing
Suckiny, . Fr. fouquenie, a looſe frock worn over
their other clothes by carters, &c.
Sue, v. Fr. to follow
Sueton, pr. Suetonius the Roman hiftorian
Suffifance, n. Fr. fufficiency, fatisfaction
Suffifant, adj. ſufficient
Sugred, part. pa. fweetened as with fugar
Supplie, v. Fr. to fupplicate
Surcote, n. Fr. an upper coat or kirtle
Surplis, . Fr. a furplice
Surquedrie, n. Fr. preſumption, an over-weening
conceit
Surrie, pr. n. Syria
Surfanure, n. Fr. a wound healed outwardly on-
ly
Surveance, n. Fr. fuperintendance
Suſpect, adj. Fr. ſuſpected,
Sufpect, n. fufpicion
1.
Suſpection, n. fufpicion
Sufter, n. Sax. fifter; fuftren, pl.
Swa, adv. Sax. fo
Swale, pa. t. of fwell, . Sav. fwelled
Swappe, v. Sax. to throw down-to ftrike off-
neut. to fall down
Swart, adj. Sux. black, of a dark colour
Swatte, pa. t. of fwete, v. Sax. fweated
Swegh, n. Sax. a violent motion
Swelt, pa. t.
Swelte, v. Sax. to die, to faint
Swerne, for fweren, pl. n. of fwere, v. Sav. fwear
Sweven, n. Sax. a dream; fwevenes, pl. it is
written fwevenis, for the fake of the rhyme
Swiche, adj. Sax. corruption of fwilke, fuch
Swinke, n. Sax, labour
Swinke, v. to labour
Swire, n. Sax. the neck; it is more commonly
written fwere
Swithe, adv. Sax. quickly, immediately
Swive, v. Sar. to perform the act of generation.
See Junii Etymolog. in v.
Swoloue, n. Sax, a whirlpool
Swonken, part pa. of ſwinkie
Swough, n. Sax. found, naife-a fwoon
Tale, v. Sax. to tell ftories; and namely when
they talen longe Conf. Am. 27, b.
Tale, n. fpeech, difcourfe-reckoning, account
litel tale hath he told of any dreme; he made
little account of any dream
Talent, n. Fr. defire, affection
Taling, . ftory-telling
Tane, for taken
Tapes, n pl. Sax. bands of linen
Tapinage, n. Fr. en tapineis, lurking, fculking
about
Tapifer, n. Fr. a maker of tapeſtry
Tapite. v. Fr. to cover with tapeſtry
Tappe, n. Sax. a tap or fpigot which clofes that
orifice through which the liquor is drawn out
of a veffel
Tapftere, n. Sax. a woman who has the care of
the tap in a public houfe; that office formerly
was ufually executed by women. See The Ad-
venture of the Pardonere and the Tapftere, in the
Continuation of The Cant. Tales
Tare, pa. t. of tear, v. Sax. tore
Targe, n. Fr. a fort of fhield
Tars, n. cloth of Tars, Tartarium, a fort of filk,
See Du. Cange in v. Tarficus, Tartarinus
Tas, n. Fr. a heap
Taſſeled, part. pa. adorned with taffels
Tafte, v. Fr. to feel to examine
Tatarwagges, n. pl. the orig. is-toutes freiclées de
crotes, all bedaggled with dirt
Taverner, n. Fr. the keeper of a tavern
Taure, pr. n. the conſtellation Taurus
Tawc, n. Sax. tow
Teche, v. Sax. teach
Tein, n. feems to fignify a narrow thin plate of
metal, perhaps from the Lat. Gr. tænia.
Temps, n. Fr. time
Tene, n. Sax. grief, Conf. Am. 140
Tene, v. to grieve, to afflict
Tercelet, tercell, n. Fr. the male hawk,the male eagle
Terins, n. pl. a fort of finging bird called in Fr
tarin. See Cotgrave in v.
Termagaunt, pr. n.
Terreftre, n. Fr. earthly
Tery, adj. Sax. full of tears
1
T.
Tefteres, n. pl. Fr. headpieces
Teftes, n.pl. Lat. veffels for affaying metals
Teftif, adj. Fr. headſtrong
Tewell, n. Fr. a pipe or funnel
Tabard. See the quotation from Speght's Gl. Tetch, n., as Tache
Difcourfe &c. n. 6.
Tables, n. pl. Fr. a game fo called-Tables Tole-Textuel, adj. Fr. ready at citing texts
tanes, the aftronomical tables compofed by or-
der of Alphonfo, X. King of Caftile, about the
middle of the 13th century, were called fome-
times Tabula Toletane, from their being adapted
to the city of Toledo
Taboure, v. Fr to drum
Tache, n. Fr. a fpot or blemish
Taillager, n. Fr. a collector of taxes
Taille, n. Fr. a tally, an account fcored on a piece
of wood
Take, v. Sav. to deliver a thing to another per-
fon
Take, for taken, part. pa,
Takel, n. Sav. an arrow
Thacke, n. Sax. thatch
Thacke, . to thump, to thwack
Than, adv. Sav. quám, Lat.
Thank, 7. Sax. thankfulneſs, good will; is
thanke is taken more-
En plus grant gré, ſont receus orig.
So the phrafes his thankes, hir thankes, anſwer
the French fan gré, leur g:é
Thanne, than, adv. Sav. then
Thar, 4. Sax. imperſ. behoveth
Thatte, that, pron, dem. Sax. ufed as a relative;
thatte Seint Peter had; fo this verſe ſhould be
716
GLOSSARY.
Thole, v. Sax. to fuffer, and what mifchefe and
male eaſe Chrift for man tholed
written that he mighte, as much as he was
able, quod potuit.-It is fometimes put, not inele-
gantly, for the fame, with gris, and that the
fineft of the lond, of fish and flesh, and that fo
plenteous; fhall fall a rain, and that fo wild
wood
Thatte, that, conj. Sax. quód, Lat.
The prep. art. Sax. The, when prefixed to ad-
jectives or adverbs, in the compar. deg. is gene-
rally to be confidered as a corruption of the
ablative ca. fing. of the Saxon art. ufed as
a pronoun. The merier, eo latius; the more
mery, eo latiores. Of the fame conftruction are
the phraſes-yet fare they the werfe, yet fare I
never the bet. When the is repeated with a
fecond comparative, either adj. or adv. the firſt
the is to be underſtood in the fenfe of the Lat.
quo. The more it brenneth the more it hath
defire-to confume every thing-quo magis-
eo magis-
And ay the further that ſhe was in age
The more trewe (if that it were poffible)
She was to him in love, and more penible,
Sometimes the firft the is omitted, as in the
phraſes ever lenger the werfe; ever lenger the
more; for certes if a man hadde a dedly wound,
ever the lenger that he taried to wariſhe him-
ſelf the more wold it corrupt-and alfo the
wound wold be the werſe får to hele
The v. Sax. to thrive
Theodome, n. Sax. thrift, fuccefs
Thefely, adj. Sax. like a thief
Thennes, thenne, adv. Sax. thence
1
Thennesforth, adv. Sax. from thennesforth, from
that time forward
Theodomas, pr.n.
Theophraſt, pr. n.
Ther, adv. Sax. there, in that place, is frequently
uſed in the ſenſe of where
Ther, in compofition, fignifies that, without in-
cluding any idea of place.
idea of place. See Here. Ther
abouten, thereagain, therbeforne, therby, ther-
fore, therfro, thergaine, therof, theron, therto,
therwith, therwithall
t.
Thewe's, h. pl: Sax. manners, qualities
Thider, adv. Sax. thither, to that place
Thiderward, adv Sax. toward that place
Thilke, adj. Sax. this fame, that fame
Thinke, v. Sax. to confider; it is very frequently uſed
as an imperfonal in the pr. and ta. t. in the fenfe of
feemeth or femed'; me thinketh, him thinketh,
him thoughte, hir thoughte, how thinketh you?
hem thoughte
•
}
Thinne, adj. Sax. flender, fmall; a thinne imagi-
nation, tenui imagine; a thinne fufpicion, tenui
fufpicione
Thirle, v. Sav. to pierce through
}
This, pron. demonft. Sax. is fometimes put for the
prepoſitive article
Thife, pl.
}
Tho, prep. art. pl. da. Sax. ufed as a demonſtrative
pronoun, thofe
Tho, adv. Sax. then
Thore, is put for there, for the fake of the rhyme
Thorpe, n. Sax. a village
Thoughten, pa. t, pl. of thinke, v. Sax.
Thrall, n. Sax. a ſlave or villain
Thralle, v. to enſlave
Thrafte, pa. t. of threſte
Thred-bare, adj. Sax. having the threads bare, the
nap being worn away
Thremote, fhould be written in two words, thre
mote, as in the Bodl. mff. Mot. n. Fr. is ex-
plained by Cotgrave to fignify, among other
things, the note winded by a huntſman on his
horn
Threpe, v. Sax. to call
Threfte, v. Sax. to thrust
Threfwold, n. Sax. a threſhold
Threte, v. Sax. to threaten
Threttene, num. Sax. thirteen
Thridde, adj. Sax. third
Thrie, thries, adv. Sax. thrice
Thrilled, for thirled, pa. t. of thirle
Thringe, v. Sax. to thrust
Thrifte, pq. t. of threſte
Thronge, pa. t. of thringe
Thropes, for thorpes
Throſtel, n. Sax. a thruſh
Throw, n. Sax. time; but a throw; but a little
while; any throw, any ſpace of time; many a
throw, many times
Thruft, for thurſt, n. Sax. thirſt
Thrufty, for thurſty, adj. Sax. thirſty
Thurgh, prep. Sax. through, by means of
Thurghfare, n. Sax. a paſſage
Thurghout, prep. Sax. throughout, quite through
Thurrock, n. Sax. the hold of a ſhip
Thwitel, n. Sax. a whittle, cultellus
Thwitten, part. pa. chipped with a knife, whittled,
bien dolé, orig.
Tidde, part. pa. of tide, v. Sax. happened; thee
fhulde never have tidde fo faire a grace, fo fair,
a fortune fhould never have happened to thee.
Tidife, n. the tidife is mentioned as an inconftant
bird in the Leg. of G. W. ver. 154; as doth
the tidife for newfangleneffe. Skinner fuppofes
it to be the titmoufe
Tickel, adj. Sax. uncertain
Til, prep. Sax. to, hire till, to her.
Timbeftere, n. is fuppofed by Lye, [Etym. Ling.
Angl. in v.] to mean the fame with tombeftere,
The orig. French has been quoted above in v.
Sailours, which Chaucer has thus imitated;
1
There was many a timbeſtere
And failours, that I dare well fwere
Ycouthe hir craft full parfitly.
The timbres up full fubtilly
Thei caften, and hent hem full oft
Upon a finger faire and ſoft,
That thei ne failed never mo.
According to this defcription it fhould rather
feem that a timbeſtere was a woman, who
plaid tricks with timbres, (baſons of fome fart
GLOSSARY.
#17
or other) by throwing them up into the air and
catching them upon a ſingle finger; a kind of
balance-miſtreſs.
Timbres, n. pl. Fr. bafons. See Timbeſtere
Tipet, n. Sax. a tippet
Tipped, part. pa."headed, covered at the tip or
top
Tiptoon, n. pl. Sax. tiptoes, the extremities of the
toes
Tire, v. Fr. to pluck, to feed upon in the manner
of birds of prey; for loke how that a gofhauke
tyreth
Tiffue, n. Fr. a riband
Tite, for tideth happeneth
Titering, n. Sax. courtship
Titeles, adj. Sax without title
Titus Livius, pr. n. the Roman hiſtorian
To, adv. Sax. too
To, prep. Sax. to day, on this day; to morwe, on
the morrow, the following day; to yere, in this
year.-To, in compofition with verbs, is gene-
rally augmentative, the helmes they to-hewen
and to-ſhrede, i. e. hewe aud cut to pieces; the
bones they to-breſte, i. e. break in pieces; to-
broften, to-dafhed, much bruifed; to-rent, rent
in pieces; to-fwinke, labour greatly-Some-
times the adv. all is added; al-to-rent;
fhare; entirely cut to pieces; all-to-fhent; en-
tirely ruined.
Tofore, toforen, prep. Sax. before
Togithers, adv. Sax. together
Told. pa. t. of tell, v. Sax. accounted
Tombeftere, n. Sax. a dancing woman
Tombeſteres, pl.
Tout, n. the backfide
Towail, n. Fr. a towel
Towardes, prep. Sax. toward
Towel, n. is perhaps put for tewel, a pipe, the
fundament
Trace, n. Fr. a track or path-a train
Trade, pa. t. of tread, v. Sax. trod
Tragetour, z. as Tregetour
Traie, v. Fr. to betray
[draw
Trais, n. pl. Fr. traits, the traces by which horfes
Tramiffene, pr. n. a kingdom in Africa
Tranfmewe, v. Fr. to tranform
Trappures, n. pl. barb. Lat. the clothes with which
horſes were covered for parade. See Du Cange
in v. Trappatura
Trafhed, part. pa. betrayed
Trate, n. Bp. Douglas frequently uſes trat for
an old woman, Æn. vii. 416, invultus fefe trans-
format aniles
-he renders and hir in ſchape
transformyt of ane trat
Trave, n. Fr. travail, a frame in which farriers
put unruly horſes
Tre, n. Sax. a tree, wood, Criftes tre, the croſs
Trechour, n. Fr. a cheat
Trede-foule, n. a treader of hens, a cock
Tregetour, ». a juggler
all-to-Trenchant, part. pr. Fr. cutting
Tomedes, ſhould be written as two words; to
mede or to medes, according to the Saxon ufage,
fignifies for reward, in return
Tone, n. pl. Sax. toes
Tonne-gret, adj. of the circumference of a tun
Toos, n. pl. as Tone
Toretes, n. pl. Fr. rings
Terne, v. Fr. to turn, the devil out of his fkinne
him torne! may the devil turn him infide out!
Torned, part. pa.
Tortous, adj. Fr. oblique, winding
|
Trental, n. Fr. was a fervice of 30 maffes, which
were uſually celebrated upon as many different
days, for the dead. Du Cange in v. Trentale
Trepeget, n. Fr. a military engine. See Du Cange
in v. Trebuchetum
Treffe, n. Fr. an artificial lock or gathering of
hair. See Du Cange, in v. Trica, Trecia
Treffed, part. pa. gathered in a treſs or treſſes
Treffour, n. an inftrument uſed in treffing the
hair, or an ornament of it when treffed. See
Du Cange in v. Treſſarium
Tretable, udj. Fr. tractable
Trete, v. Fr. to treat, to difcourfe
Tretee, n. treaty
Tretis, n. treaty
Tretis, adj. Fr. long and well proportioned
Trewe, n. Fr. a truce
Trewe, adj. Sax. true faithful
Toteler, n. a whiſperer, totelar, fufurro, Prompt. | True-love, n. Mr. Steevens has very obligingly
Paro.
Totty, adj. Sax. dizzy
Tough, adj. Sax. difficult; and maketh it full
tough, and takes a great deal of pains; or
make it tough, or take pains about it; and
made it neither tough ne queint; made no
difficulty, or ftrangeness;
Al be it ye make it never fa tewche,
To me your labour is in vane.
Mf. Maitland, The Mourning Maiden.
Will. Swane makis wonder tewche
Ibid. Peblis to the play. ft. 21.
Tought, adj. Sax, tight
Tour, n. Fr. a tower
Tourret, #. ſhould be written tourette, as in mff.
Hunter, a turret or ſmall tower
C
fuggefted to me that there is a herb called true-
love, according to Gerard, in his Herbal, edit.
1597, p. 328, Herba Paris; "One berrie or
"herbe truelove-at the very top whereof
come forth fower leaves directly fet one
againſt another, in manner of a Burgunnion
"crofs, or a true love knot, for which caufe
among the auncients it hath been called herbe
"true-love" This herb, however, to the beſt of
my remembrance, is rather too large to be car-
ried conveniently under the tongue. A trew-
love of the fame or another fort is mentioned
in the concluding ſtanza of The Court of Lov: ;
Eke cche at other threw the floures bright,
The primerofe, the violete, and the gold;
Sa than as I beheld the royal fight
My lady gan me fodenly behold,
And with a trewelove plited many a fold;
$18
LOS SAR Y.
She fmote me through the very heart as blive,
And Venus yet I thanke I am alive.
Triacle, n. Fr. corruption of theriaque, a remedy
in general
Trice, v. Sax. to thrust
Trie, adj. tried or refined, Gloff. Ur.
Trill, v. Sax. to twirl, to turn round
v neut. to roll, to trickle
Trine, adj, Fr. triple; trine compas, the Trinity.
See Compas.
Trippe, n. evidently means a fmall piece of cheeſe;
les tripes d'un fagot, in Fr. are the ſmalleſt ſticks
in a faggot, Cotgrave
Trifte, v. for truſte
Trifte, n. a poſt or ſtation in hunting, Cowell.
This feems to be the true meaning of the word,
though the etymology is not fo clear
Trumpe, n. Fr. a trumpet
Trompour, z. a trumpeter
Tronchoun, n. Fr. a fpear without a head
Tron, n. Fr. a throne
Trophee, pr. n. it occurred to me that the refe-
rence might poffibly be to the original of the
Troilus and Crefeide, which according to Lyd-
gate was called Trophe, but I cannot find any
fuch paffage as is here quoted in the Filoftrato.
Trotula, pr. n.
Trouble, adj. Fr. dark, gloomy
Troubler, comp. d.
Trowandife, for Truandife
Trowe, v. Sax to believe
Truandife, n. Fr. begging, truanding
Tulle, v. Sax. to allure
Tullius, pr. n. M. Tullius Cicero
Turkeis, n. Fr. a fort of precious ſtone
Turkeis, adj. Fr. Turkiſh
Turmentife, n. Fr. torment
Turves, pl. of turf, n. Sax.
Twaine, tway, twey, tweine, numer. Sax. two
Tweifold, adj. Sax. double
Twies, adv. Sar. twice
Twight, pa. t. & part. of twitch, v. Sax. pulled,
plucked
Twinne, v. Sar. to depart from a place or thing
Twinned, part. pa. ſeparated
Twire, v. twireth feems to be the tranflation of
fufurrat, ſpoken of a bird
Twift, n. Sax. a twig
Twiſte, v. Sax. to twitch, to pull hard
Twiſte, pa. t. twitched
V.
Valence, pr. n. Valencia in Spain, Gloff. Ur.
Valerie, pr. n.
Valerie, Valerius, pr. n. Valerius Maximus
Valure, n. Fr. value
Varien, inf. m. v. Fr. to change, to alter
Varien, variaunt, part. pr. changeable
Vaffalage, n. Fr. valour, courage
Vavalour, n. probably a meddling landlord
Vauntour, n. Fr. a boaſter
Vecke, n. Ital. an old woman
| Veine-blode, n. blood drawn from a velk
Vendable, n. Fr. to be fold
Venerie, n. Fr. hunting
Venge, v. Fr. to revenge
Venime, n. Fr. poiſon, venom
Ventoufing, z. Fr. cupping
Ver, n. Lat. the fpring
Verament, adv. Fr. truly
Veray, adj. Fr. true
ſo
Verdegrefe, n. Fr. verd du gris, the ruft of braſs, ló
called from its colour, a gray green
Verdite, n. Fr. judgment, fentence
Verger, n. Fr. a garden
Vermeile, adj. Fr. of a vermilion colour
Vermelet, adj. as Vermeile
Vernage, a kind of wine
Vernicle, n. diminutive of Veronike, Fr. a copy in
miniature of the picture of Chriſt, which is fup-
poſed to have been miraculously imprinted upon
a handkerchief preferved in the church of St.
Peter at Rome, Du Cange in v. Veronica. Madox,
Form. Angl p. 428. Teftam. Joh. de Nevill, an.
1386. "Item Domino Archiepifcopo Eborum
"fratri meo, i. veftimentum rubeum de velvet
cum le Verouike [r. Veronike] in granis rofarum
"defuper brondata, [r. brouduta."] It was used for
perſons returning from pilgrimages to bring with
them certain tokens of the feveral places which
they had visited, and therefore the Fardoner,
who is just arrived from Rome, is reprefented
with a vernicle fewed upon his cappe. See
Pierce Plough, 28, b.-
An hundred amples on hys hatte fette,
Synges of Sinay and fhelles of Calice*,
And many a crouch on his cloke and kayes
of Rome,
•
The Vernicle before, for men fhould knowe
And fe by hys fignes whom he fought hadde.
Vernish, v. Fr. to varniſh
Verre, n. Fr. glafs
Verfifiour, n Fr. a maker of verfes, a poet
Vertules, adj. without efficacy
Vertuous, adj. Fr. active, efficacious
Veffell, n. Fr. vaiſſelle, plate
Ugly, adj. Sax. horrid, frightful
Viage, n. Fr. a journey by fea or land
Vicary, n. Lat. a vicar
Vice, n. Fr. the newel or upright centre of a wind-
ing ſtaircaſe
Vigile, . Fr. the eve of a feftival, the wake or
watching of a dead body
Vigilie, n. Lat. as Vigile
Vilanie, n. Fr. any thing unbecoming a gentle-
man
Vinolent, adj. Lat. full of wine
Virelaye, n. Fr. a round freeman's fong, Cotgrave.
There is a particular deſcription of a chlai in
the Jardin de Plaiſance, fol. 12. where it makes
the decima fexta fpecies rhetorice Gallicans
Virgile, pr. n.
Vilage, v. Fr. to front, to face a thing
Vile, n. in mf. A. veze; perhaps we fhould read
M. Gales. Perhaps it thould be Galice,
GLOSSARY.
719
refe, a Saxon word fignifying violence, impetu- Unplite, v. to unfold
ofity
Vitaille, n. Fr. victuals
Vitellon, pr. n.
Unbetide, v. Sax. to fail to happen
Unbodie, v. Sac. to leave the body
Unbokel, v. Fr. to unbuckle, to open
Unce, n. Fr. Lat. ounce
Uncommitted, part. pa. office uncommitted oft a-
noyeth
Unconning, part. pr. ignorant
Unconning, z. ignorance
Uncovenable, adj. inconvenient
Uncouple, v. to go loofe, metaphor from hounds
Uncouplinge, n. letting loofe, Du. 377
Uncouth, part. pa. unknown. See Couth-uncom-
mon, not vulgar, elegant
Uncouthly, adv. uncommonly
Undepartable, adj. not capable of departing
Underfong, v. Sav. to undertake
Undergrowe, part. pa. undergrown, of a low fta-
ture
Underling, n. Sav. an inferior
Undermele, n. Sax. I am rather inclined to believe,
that undermele fignifies the time after the meal
of dinner, the afternoons undermele poffmeridies,
Promp. Parv.
Undern, n. Sav. the third hour of the artifical day,
nine of the clock, till it was underne hygh and
more, Conf. Am. 103, b.
Underngme, pa. t. of undermine, v. Sax. took up,
received
Underpight, pa. t. See Pight; he dranke and wel
his girded underpight, he drank and ftuffed his
girdle well
Underfpore, v. Sax. to raiſe a thing by putting a
ſpear or pole under it
Underſtonde, part. pa. underſtood
Undo, v. Sax, to unfold
Undoubtous, adj. undoubted; indubitata, orig. See
Doutous
[orig.
Unefchauble, adj. Sax. unavoidable; inevitabili,
Unele, n. uneasiness
Un-eth, un-ethes, adv. Sax. fcarcely, not eaſily
Unfamous, adj. unknown
Unfeftliche, adj. not ſuitable to a feaſt
Ungodely, adj. uncivil, ungenteel; that I n'olde
holde hire ungodely; orig. que je ne teniffe à vi-
laine
Ungreable, adj. unpleafant, difagreeable, ingratas,
orig.
Unhele, n. Sax. misfortune
Unhide, v. to diſcover
Unjoine, v. to feparate, to disjoin
Unkindely, adv. unnaturally
Unknowable, adj. incapable of being known; ne-
rabiles, orig.
Unletted, part. pa. undisturbed
Unloven, v. to ceaſe loving
Unluft, . diflike
Unmanhode, n. cowardice
Unmighty, adj. unable
Unperegal, adj. unequal, impar, orig.
Unpin, v. Sax. to unlock
Unpitous, adj. cruel; impia
3
Unreft, n. want of reſt, uneaſineſs, trouble
Unreſty, adj. unquiet
Unright, n. wrong
Unfad, adj. unſteady
Unfcience, #. not ſcience
Unfely, adj unhappy
Unfet, part. pa. not appointed
Unfhette, pa. t. opened
Unſkilfully, adv. Sax, without reaſon; injuria, orig.
Unflekked, part pa. unſlacked
Unflept, part. pa having had no fleep
Unfoft, adj. hard
Unfolempne, adj. uncelebrated; incelebris, orig.
Unfperde, part. pa. unbolted
Unftancheable, adj. inexhauſtable; inexhaufta, orig,
Unflanched, part. pa. unfatisfied; inexpletam, orig.
Unfufficient, adj. infufficient
Unfwell,. to fall after fwelling
Unthank, n. no thanks, ill will
Until, prep. Sax. to, unto
Untime, n. an unfeaſonable time
Unto, adv. Sax. until
Untretable, adj. not admitting any treaty, bellua
inexorabile, orig. Feλepos axnpuxTos
Untreffed, part. pa. not tied in a trefs or treffes
Untrifte, for untrufte, v. to miſtruſt
Untruft, n. diſtruſt
Unufage, n. want of uſage; infolentia, orig.
Unware, part. pa. unforeſeen
Unweld, adj. unwieldy
Unwemmed, part. pa. unspotted
Unweting, part. pr. not knowing; unweting of
this Dorigen, Dorigen not knowing of this
Unwetingly, adv. ignorantly
Unwift, part. pa. unknown; unwift of him, it be
ing unknown to him, not knowing
Unwit, . want of wit
Unwote, v. Sax, to be ignorant
Unwrie, v, to uncover
Unyolden, part. pa. not having yielded
Voide, v Fr. to remove, to quit, to make empty
Voide, v. neut to depart, to go away
Voided, part. pa. removed
Volage, adj. Fr. light, giddy
Volatile, n. Fr. wild fowls, game
Volunie, n. Fr. will
-
Volupere, n. a woman's cap; a nightcap, volyperè,
kercher, teriflrum, Promp. Parv. but theriftrum ſig
nifies, properly, a veil. See Du Cange in v.
Vouche, v. Fr. vouchen fauf, to vouchſafe ; vouch-
cth fauf, vouchſafe ye; as ye have made prefent
the king vouches it fave
Up, prep. Sar. upon; ther lith on up my wombe
and up my hed; there lieth one upon my belly'
and upon my head; up peine, upon pain; up
peril, upon peril
Up, adv. Sax. up on lond, up in the country; up
fo doun, upfide down; the londe was tourned
up ſo doun, Conf. Am. 37, ±59.-But Pandare
up, an elliptical expreffion, of which it is not
eafy to give the precife meaning
Upper, comp. d higher
Uphaf, pa. t. of upheve, . Sax. heaved up
Upheping, n, Sax, accumulation; cumulum, orig.
$28
GLOSSARY.
Upon, adv, he had upon a courtepy of grene, he
had on a courtepy, &c or perhaps it is an ellip-
tical expreffion for he had upon him
Upperest, adj. fuperl. higheſt
L
Upright, adj. Sax. ftraight; upright as a bolt,
ftraight as an arrow: it is applied indifferently
to perfons lying as well as ftanding
រ
Urchon, n. a hedgehog
Ure, n. Fr. fortune, deſtiny
Ured, adj. fortunate; well ured
Ufage, n. Fr. experience, practice
Ufant, part. pr. Fr. ufing, accuſtomed
Utter, comp. d. of out, adv. Sax. outward, more
out
Utterefte, fuperl. d. uttermoft
Utterly, adv. Fr. oultréement, thoroughly, entirely
Uttren, inf. m. of utter, v. Sax. to publiſh
Uttren, pr. t. pl. give out, fell
Wade, fr. d.
W。
Wade, v. Sax. Lat. to pafs through water without
fwimming, to país generally
Waferers, n. pl. fellers of wafers, a fort of cakes
Wafoures, n. pl. wafers, a fort of cakes
Waget. Upon the whole, I believe that a light wa`
get fhould be understood to mean a light blue
colour
Waimenting, z. Sax. lamentation
Waine, n. Sax. a wagon
Watte, v. Fr. to watch
Wake, v. Sax. to watch
Walachie, pr. n. Walachia
Wala wa! or wa la wa! interj. Sax. wo! alas! wa-
la wa the while alas the time!
Walnete, n. Sa, a walnut, i. e. a French or foreign
nut
Walwe, v. Sax. to tumble about, to wallow
Walwing, part. pr.
Wan, pa. t. of win, v. Sax. gained
Wane, v. Sav. to decreaſe
Wang, z. Sax. a cheek-tooth
Warrie, v. Sax. to abuſe to ſpeak evil of
Wafhen, part. pa. of wash, v. Sax.
Waftel-brede, cake-bread, bread made of the fineſt
flour, from the French gafteau, & cake
Waſtour, n. Fr. aſpoiler
Wate, v. Sax. to know
Watering of Seint Thomas, a place for watering
horfe, I fuppofe, a little out of the borough of
Southwark, in the road to Canterbury. The
fame place, I apprehend, was afterwards called
St. Thomas a Waterings, probably from fome
chapel dedicated to that faint. It was a place of
execution in Queen Elizabeth's time. Wood,
Ath. Oxon. i. 229
Watlynge-ftrete, an old ftreet in London
Wave, pa. t. of weave, v. Sax, wove
Wawe, n. Sax. a wave
Way, n. Sax. is often put for the time in which a
certain ſpace can be paffed through; a furlong
way, mile way, any fhort time at the lefte
wey, feems to fignify no more than at the left,
at leaſt a devil way, a twenty devil way
Way, adv. away; do way, do
away, put away
Waye, v. Sax. to weigh, to prefs with weight
Webbe, n. Sax. a weaver
Wedde, n. Sax. a pawn or pledge; to wedde for
a pawn; and leyde to wedde Normandie
Wedė, n. Sav, clothing, apparel; under wede feems
to fignify, ſimply, in my clothing
Wede, n. Sax. a weed, an ufelefs herb
Wehee, a word to exprefs the neighing of a horfe
Weive, v. Sax. to forfake, to decline, to refufe
Weive, v. neut. to depart
Weived, part. pa. departed
Weke, v. Sax. to grow weak
Weke, adj. Sax. weak
Wel, adv. Sax. well, in a good condition; wel was
the wenche with him mighte mete; wel were
they that thider might twin: it is joined to
other adverbs and adjectives, as full and right
are, and ſtill more frequently to verbs, in the
fenſe of the French bien
Welde, v Sux. to govern, to wield
Weldy, adj. Sax. active
Wanger, n. Sax. a fupport for the check, a pillow Wele, adv. for well
Wanhope, n. Sax. deſpair
Wantruft, n. Sux. diſtruſt
Waped, part. pa. Sax. ftupified
Wardecorps, n. Fr. body-guard
Wardein, n. Fr. a warden of a college, a guard, a
keeper of a gate; wardeins, pl. guard, watch-
men
Warderere, perhaps a corruption of the French
garde arriere
Wardrope, n. Fr. garderobe, a houſe of office
Wariangles. See Cotgrave in v. Pie and Engonée,
where he explains the wariangle to be a fmall
woodpecker, black and white of colour, and but
half as big as the ordinary green one
Warice, warifh, v. Fr. to heal; v. neut. to recover
from fickness
Warifon, n. ſeems to be put for reward; fon merite,
orig. warifon, donativum, Prompt. Parv.
Warne, v. Sav. to caution, to apprife, to refuſe
Warneftore, v. to furnish, to ftore
Wele, n. Sax. wealth, profperity
Weleful, adj. productive of happineſs
Welefulnefs, n. Sa happineſs
Welke, pa. t. of walk, v. Sax. walked
Welked, part. pa. of welke, v. Sax. withered,
mouldy
Welkin, n. Sax the fky
Well, n.Sax. a ſpring
Welle, v. Sav. to flow as from a ſpring
Welmcth, ſeems to be put for welleth, fpringeth
Welte, a. t. of welde, governed wielded
Wel-thewed, adj. Sax. endowed with good quali-
ties
Welwilly, adj. Sax. favourable, propitious
Wemme, n. Sax. a ſpot, a fault
Wenche, n. Sax. a young woman
Wend, for wened pa. t. of wene, thought, intended
Wende, v. Sax. to go
Wende, n.
wene
Sac. gueſs, conjecture, perhaps for
GLO 3 SARY.
721
Wene,n. Sav. gueſs, ſuppoſition; withouten wene,
not by fuppofition, certainly
Wene, v. Sax. to think, to ſuppoſe
Went, part, pa. of wende,
gone
Wente, went, pa. t, of wende; went at borde,
lived as a boarder
Went, 7. a way, a paffage, turn in walking; in
bed
Went, for want
Wep, pa. t. of wepe, v. Sar. wept
Wepely, adj. Sax. caufing tears
Wepen, n. Sax. a weapon
Werche, n. & v. as Werke
Were, for weren, ind. m. pa. t. pl. of am, v. Sax.
it is fometimes uſed for had, according to the
Fr. custom, with reflected yerbs, thiſe riotoures—
were fet hem in a tavern for to drinke-s'étoient
mis, sétoient affis
Were, fubj. m. pa. t. fing. c. g. as it were; if on of
hem were; whether the were; were it; it
were a game
Were, v. Sax. to wear, to defend
Were, n. Fr. guerre, confufion; his herte in fuch |
a were is fet, fon cueur a mys en tel guerre ;
and in a were gan I wexe and with myſelf to
diſpute
Were, n. Sax. for catching fiſh
Weren, pa. t. pl. of am. v. Sax. were
Werke, n. Sax. work; werkes pl.
Werke, v. Sax. to work
Werne, v. as Warne
Werre, n. Fr. war
Werrie, v Fr. to make war againſt
Werle, comp. d. of ill, adv. Sax. worſe
Werfe, comp. d. of bad, adj. Sax. worſe
Werfte, fuperl. d. of bad, worſt
Wery, adj. Sax. weary
Weſh, pa. t. of waſh, v. Sax. waſhed
Weftren, inf. m. v. Sax. to tend toward the weft
Wete, adj. Sax. wet
Wete, v. Sex. to wet
Wete, v. Sax. to know
Wether, n. Sax. the weather-a caftrated ram
Weting, n. Sax. knowledge
Weve, v. Sax. to weave
Weve, v. Sax, to put off, to prevent. See Weive
Wex, pa. t. of waxe or wexe, v. Sax. waxed, grew
Wexing, part. pr. increafing
Weyedén, pa. t. pl. weighed. See Waye
What, pron. interrog. Sax. is often uſed by itſelf as a
fort of interjection; what!
What, pron. indef. fomething, a little; what for
love and for diftrefs, partly for love and partly for
diftrefs; wete ye what? do ye know fomething?
ne elles what? nor any thing elfe.-What, when
joined to a n. fubft. (either expreſſed or under-
flood) is a mere adj. anſwering to qualis, Lat.
quel, Fr. what they weren, what men they were;
what fo, what that, whatſoever
Wheder, conj. Sav. whether
Whelm, v. Sax. to fink, to deprefs
Whennes, adv. Sax, whence
Wher, conj. Sax, whether
Wher, adv. Sav, where
and Ther
-Wherfore, wherin, wherthrough,
wherwith, when uſed interrogatively, wherof,
wherwith
Whether, adj. Sar. which of two
Whette, part. pa. of whet, v. Sax. fharpened
Whiche, pron. rel. Sax. who, whom, adj. what,
what fort of
While, n. Sax. time; in this mene while, in the
mean time; how he might quite hire while,
how he might requite her time, pains, &c. Gud
can ful wel your while quite
Whilere, adv. Sax. fometime before
Whilke, adj. Sax. which
Whilom, adv. Sax. once, on a time
Whine, v. Sax. to utter a plaintive cry
White, adj. Sax. fair, fpecious
White,
White, v. to grow white
Who, pron. interrog. Sax.
Whos, gen. ca. fing.
Who, pron. rel. Sax. it is generally expreffed by
that
Whos, gen. ca. fing.
Who, pron. indef.
For wel thou woft the name as yet of her
Amonges the people, as who fayth halowed is
where as who fayth ſeems to be equivalent to as
one fhould fay: the fame phrafe is fometimes
ufed to introduce a fuller explanation of a paf-
fage, as we might ufe-that is to fay-who fo,
who that, whofoever
Wide-where, adv. Sax. widely, far and near
Wierdes, n. pl. Sax. the Fates or Deſtinies
Wif, n. Sax. a wife, a woman
Wifhood, n. Sax. the ſtate of a wife
Wifles, adj. Sax. unmarried
Wifly, adj. Sax. becoming a wife
*
Wight, n. Sax. a perfon, male or female, a fmal
fpace of time, weight, a witch; wytch cleped
nyght mare
Wight, adj. Sax. active, fwift; of hem that ben
deliver and wight, Conf. Am. 177,b.
Wightes, n. pl. witches
Wike, n. for weke
Wiket, n. Fr. a wicket
Wikke, adj. Sax. wicked
William St. Amour, a doctor of the Sorbonne in the
13th century, who took a principal part in the
difpute between the univerfity of Paris and the
Dominican friars
Willy, adj. Sax. favourable
Wiln, for willen, pl. n. of wille, v. Sax.
Wilne, v. Sax. to defire
Wimple, n. Fr. a covering for the neck; it is dif
tinguiſhed from a veil, which covered the head
alfo
Wering a vaile inftede of wimple,
As nonnes don in hir abbey.
Windas, n. Fr. guindal, an engine to raiſe ſtones, &c.
Winde, v. Sax. to turn round
Winde, as Wende, to go
Wher, in compofition, fignifies which. See Here Winne, v. Sax, to gain, to attain
VOL. 1.
Z z
7
722
GLOSSARY.
Wirry, v. Sax. to worry
Wonc, v. Sax, to dwell
Wis, ado. Sax. certainly. See Y-wis
Wife, n: Sax. manner
Willy, adv. Sax. certainly
Woneden, pa. t. pl. dwelled
Woned, part. pa. wont, accuſtomed
Woning, n. Sux. a dwelling
Wiffe, v. Sax. to teach, to direct; fo God me wiffe, Wonne, part pa. of witine, v. Sax. won, conquer
fo may God direct me
Wilte, pa. t. of wiſte, v. Sax. knew
Wite, . Sav. to know, to blame, to impute to
wite it the ale of Southwark, impute it to the ale
of Southwark; or blame the ale of Southwark for it
Wite, n. Sax. blame
With, prep. Sax. is ufed in the fenfe of by; was
with the leon frette, was devoured by the lion;
in with his thought, in with hire bofom, within
his thought, within her bofoni ;' with mefchance,
with mefchance and with mifaventure,with forwe
and with mefchance; with forwe, are phrafes of the
fame import as God yeve him mefchance, God
yeve me forwe: they are all to be confidered as
parenthetical curfes, ufed with more or lefs feri-
oufneſs; and fo are the following phrafes, with
evil prefe, with harde grace, with fory grace
Withholde, v. Sex. to step
"
Withholden, withhold, part. pa. retained, detained
Withſain, i»f. m. of withfay, v Sax.
Withfaye, withfeye, . to contradict, to deny
Witnelle, n. Sav. teftimony, a witneſs
Witnesfully, adj. Sax. evidently
Witte, n. Sax. underſtanding, capacity-to my
witte; in my judgment
Wittes, n. pl. Sax. the fenfes of man
Wive, n. for wif
Wivere, n. Sax. a ferpent
Wlatfom, adj. Sax. loathfome
t
Wo, n. Sux, wo, forrow-wo were us; wher me
were wo, are expreffions derived from the Sax-
on language, in which us and me were equiva-
lent to notis and mibi, without the addition of
the prep, to
Wo, udj. Sax. forrowful
Wo-begon, far gone in wo. See begon
ed, begotten
t
Wont, part. pa. of wone, accustomed
Wood, adj. as wode
Woodnels, 7. madneſs
Wordles, adj. Sav. fpeechlefs
n.
Worldes, gen. ca. of world; n. Sax. is ufed in the
fenfe of the adj. worldly; every worldes fore;
my worldes blis
Wort, n. Sax. a cabbage, new beer in a ſtate of
fermentation
:
Worth, v. sax. to be, to go, wo worthe unhap-
py be, or wo be to! to climb, to mount
Woft, for woteſt, knoweſt
Wote, wof, v. Sax. to know, wot, pa. t. knew
Wowe, rather woe) o. Sax. to woo
Woxe, pa. t. of waxe, or wexe, v. Sax. grew
Woxen, part. pa. grown
Wraie, v. Sar. to betray, diſcover
Wrathen, if. m v. Lax. to make angry
Wrawe, adj. Sax. peevish, angry; wrawe, froward,
ungoodly
Wrawness, a. peevishness
Wray, as wraie
Wreche, n. Sav. revenge
Wrenches, n pl. Sax. frauds, ftratagems
Wreft, v. Sax to twift ; the nightingale with fo
great might hire voice began out wreſt-to
turn forcibly
Wrethen, part. pa. of writhe-wrethen in fere,
twifted together; in Urry's edit. 'it is printed
-within in fere
Wreye, v. as wraie
Wrie, v. Sax. to cover, to turn, to incline
Wright, n. Sar. a workman
Wrine, for wrien, inf. m. of wrie
[ture
Wring, v. Sax. to fqueeze fo as to exprefs moif-
Wode, wood, adj. Sax. mad, violent; for wode, Writhe, v. Sax. to twift, to turn afide,
like any thing mad
Wode, . Sax. to grow mad
Wodewale, fr. n. of a bird
Wol, v. auxil. Sax. to will; it is uſed ſometimes by
itîclf, the inf. v. being underſtood, as ſhe to wa-
ter wolde, i. e. would diffolve into water; and to
the wood he wol, i. e. will go, ful many a man
bath he begiled er this, and wol. i. e. will be-
guile
Wolde, pa. t. would, wolden, pa, t. ſubj, m. wolde
God! God wolde!: o that God were willing'
>
ne wolde God! God forbid!
"Wold, part. pa. willed, been willing
鲁
​[man
Womanhede, n. womanhood, the virtue of a wo-
Wonde, 7. Sax. wandian, to deſiſt through fear
Wonde, ja. t. may perhaps be deduced from winde,
to turn, to bend,
The yerde is bet that bowen wol and winde
Than that that breft.
Wonde, fe. t. of wone, dwelled
Wonder, adj. Sex. cuftom, ufage, habitation, a
heap, an ailembly
Writhing, n. a turning
Wronge, part. pa. of wring; his hondes wronge:
later writers have uſed the fame expreffion of
diftrefs
Wrote, v. Sax. to dig with the fnout as fwine do;
or like a worm that wroteth in a tree
Wrought, part. pa. of worke, v. Sax. made
}
Y.
Y, at the beginning of many words, eſpecially
verbs and participles, is merely a corruption of
the Saxon ge, which has remained uncorrupted
in the other collateral branches of the Gothic
language; what the power of it may have been
originally, it is impoffible, perhaps, now to de-
termine in Chaucer it does not appear to have
any effect upon the fenfe of a word, fo that
there feems to be no neceflity for inferting in a
gloffary fuch words as ybleffed, ygranted, &c.
which differ not in fignification from bleffed,
granted, &c. Some, however, of this fort are
4
GLOSSARY.
723
inferted, which may ferve at leaſt to fhew
more clearly the extent of this practice in
Chaucer's time. Several other words are ſhort-
ly explained under this letter, of which a more
full explanation may be found under their re-
fpective fecond letters
Ya, adv. Sax. yea; it is ufed emphatically with
both; ya bothe yonge and olde; ye both faire
and good
Yaf, pa. t. of yave, v. Six. gave
Yalte, for yelte; yalte him, yieldeth himſelf
Yare, adj. Sax. ready
Yate, n. Sax. a gate
Yave, pa. t. of yeve, gave
Y-be, part. pa. been
Y-beried, part. pa. buried
Y-bete, v. a. to beat, ftamp, imprint
Y-blent, part. pa. of blend, blinded
Y-blent, part. pa. of blenche, fhrunk, ftarted a-
fide
Y-blint, part. pa, blinded
Y-bore, part. pa. of bere, born, carried
Y-bourded, part, pa. jeſted
Y-brent, part. pa. of brenne, burned
7
Y-chaped, part. pa. furnished with chapes, from
chappe, Fr.
Y-clouted, part. pa. wrapped in clouts or rags
Y-corven, part. pa. cut. See Corven
Y-coupled, part. p.
Y-crafed, part. pa. broken
Y-deled, part. pa. diſtributed
Y-dight, part. pa. adorned
Y-do, purt. pa. done, finiſhed
Y-drawe, part. pa. drawn
Ye, adv. Sax. as Ya; ye wis, yea certainly
Yeddinges, would feem to mean ftory-telling
Yede, part. pa. of yedę, v. Sax. went
Yefte, n. Six. a gift; yeftes, pl.
Yelde, v. Sax. to yield, to give, to pay; God
yelde you! God reward you!
Yelleden, pa. t. pl. of yelle, v. Sux.
Yelpe, v. Sax. to prate, to boaſt
Yelte, for yeldeth
Yeman, n. Sux. a fervant of middling rank; a
>
bailiff Yemen, pl.
Yemanrie, n. the rank of yeoman
i
Terde, n. Sam. a rod or ſtaff, fod, earth
Yere, for yeres, n. pl. Sax. years
Yerne, adj. Sax. britk, eager
Yerne, adv. brifkly, eagerly, early, foon, immedi-
ately
Yerne, v. to defire, to feck eagerly
Yerning, a. activity, diligence
Yeten, part. pa. gotten
Yeve, . Sax. to give
Yeven, yeve, purt, pa given
Y-fulle, part. pa. fallen
Y-feined, part. pa. lordes heftes may not ben
y-feined, the commands of fovereigns may not
be executed with a feigned precended zeal, they
muft be executed ftrictly and fully
Y-fette, part. pa. fetched
Y-fonden, part. pa. found
Y-foftered, part. ps, educated
Y-freten, part. på, devoured_
Y-geten, part. pa. gotten
Y-glofed, part. pa. flattered
14
Y-glued, furt. a. glewed, faftened with glew
Y-go, part. pa, gone
Y-grave, part. pa. buried
Y-halowed, part. pa. kept holy
Y-herd, part. pa. covered with hair
Y-hold, part. pa. beholden
Y-japed, pari. pr. tricked. deceive'
Y-leffed, purt. pr. relieved. See Liſſed
Y-liche, y-like, adj. Sex. refembling, equal
Y-liche, y-like, adv. Sax. equally, alike
Y-limed, part. pr. limed, caught as with bird
lime
Y-logged, part. pl. lodged.
Y-masked, part. p. mafhed or mehed; matbe,
Belg. macula rétis, Kilian.
Y-meint, part. pa. mingled
Y-mell, prep. S.x. among
Ymeneus, pr. n. Hymenæus
Ynough, ynow, adv. Sax. enough
Yolden, part. p. of yelde, given, yielded, re-
paid
Yonghede, n. Sıx. youth
Yore, ade. Sax. of a long time, a little before
yore agon, long ago; in olde times yore, of
time yore
Yove, pr. t. of yeve, gave
Youre, pron. poff. Sax. is ufed for youres
Youres, pron. poff. Sax. ufed generally when the
noun to which it belongs is understood or place,
ed before it; he was an old felaw of youres,
he was an old companion of yours, i. e. of or
among your companions
Youthhede, n. Saz. youth
Yoxe, v. Sax. to hiccough
Y-piked, part. pa. picked. fpruce
Y-queint, part. pa. quenched
Y-reight, pa. t. reached
Y-reken, feems to be put for the old part. Five
y-rekend, reeking.
Yren, n. Sax, iron
Y-rent, part. pz. torn.
:
:
Y-ronne, y-ronnen, pirt. pr. run
Y-fateled, part. pr. lettled, eſtabliſhed
Yfe, n. Sax, ice
Y-ferved, part. pz. treated
Y-feste, part. pl. fet, placed, appointed
Y-fhent, part. pa. damaged
Y-hove, part. pr. puthed forwards
V-flawe, part, p. flain
Y-fope, pr. n. So the name of the fabulift was
commonly written, notwithstanding the dif
tination pointed out by the following technical
verfe:
73
Yfopus eft herba, fed Efopus dat bona
verba
In this and many other paffages which are
quoted from fop, by writers of the middle
ages, it is not easy to fay what author they
mean: the Greek collections of fables which
are now current under the name of fop
were unknown, I apprehend, in this part of
the world at the time that Melibee was writ-
ten: Phædrus too had difappeared: Avienus
indeed was very generally head. He is quot-
ed as Æfop by John of Salisbury, Pulperats
1. vii. Ut jepa, vel Ávieno, credas.-
·But
the name of op was chiefly appropriated to
Z zij
at
मे
***
GLOSSARY.
the anonymous author of fixty fables in ele-
giac metre, which are printed in Nevelet's
collection under the title of Anonymi Fabule
The man goes home and gives two of them to
his wife. Soon after, as they are dining upon
a chine of mutton, the wife feels a longing for
the marrow, and not being able to get at it, fhe
wiſhes that her huſband had an iron beak (long
com li ritecoes, Fr. long as the woodcock) to ex-
tract this marrow for her: an excreſcence being
immediately formed accordingly, the huſband
angrily wishes it off from his own face upon his
wife's.- And here the ſtory is unluckily de-
fective in both copies; but it is eaſy to ſuppoſe
that the third and laſt remaining with was em-
ployed by the wife for her own relief.-
fable upon a fimilar idea, in Fr. verfe, may be
feen in mf. Bodl. 1687, the fame, as I ap-
prehend, with one in the king's library at Pa-
ris, [mf. n. 7989, fol. 189,] which is entitled
Les quatre foubaits Sainz Martin. See Fabliaux,
-A
fopica. I have ſeen an edition of them in
1503 by Wynkyn de Worde, in which they are
entitled fimply Efopi Fabula: the fubjects are
for the most part plainly taken from Phædrus,
but it may be doubted whether the author co-
pied from the orig. work of Phædrus or from
fome verfion of it into Latin profe. Several
verfions of this kind are ftill extant in mf.; one
of very confiderable antiquity has been publiſh-
ed by Nilant, Lugd. Bat. 1709, under the title
of Fabule Antiqua, together with another of a
later date, which is pretended to have been
made from the Greek by an emperor Romulus,
for the ufe of his fon Tiberinus. They all fhew
evident marks of being derived from one com-
mon origin, like what has been obferved of
the feveral Greek collections of Æfopian fables
in profe; [Differt. de Babrio. Lond. 1776,] like
them too they differ very much from one ano-
ther in ſtyle, order of fables, and many little |
particulars; and, what is moft material, each
of them generally contains a few fables, either
invented or ſtolen by its reſpective compiler,
which are not to be found in the other collec-Y-take, part. pa. taken
tions, fo that it is often impracticable to verify Y-teyed, part. pa. tied
a quotation from Efop in the writers of Chau- Y-trefpaled, part. pa. treſpaſſed
cer's time, unlefs we happen to light upon the Y-vanished, part. pa.
identical book of fables which the writer
who quotes had before him.—I have print-
ed in the Difcourfe, &c. n. 29, a fable of The
Cock and the Fox, from the Fr. Efope of Ma- Y-wimpled, part. pa. covered with a wimple
rie, which is not to be found in any other col-Y-wis, adv. Sux. certainly
lection that I have feen, and which I fuppofe Y-wrake, pa. t. wreaked, revenged
furniſhed Chaucer with the ſubject of his Non- | Y-wrie, purt. pa. covered
nes Preeftes Tale. In the fame Fr. Æfop, and
in a Lat. mf. Bibl. Reg. 15. A. vii. there is a
fable which I think might have given the
hint for Prior's Ladle. A country fellow one
day laid hold of a faery, (un folet, Fr.) who in Zeuxis, pr. n. a Grecian painter
order to be fet at liberty gave him three wishes.
c. t. iii. p. 311. The vanity of human wiſhes
is there expofed with more pleaſantry than in
the ſtory just cited, but, as it often happens,
with much lefs decency
Y-fowe, part. pa, ſown
Y-fpreint, part. pa. fprinkled
Y-flicked, part. pa. flicked, thruſt
Y-ftorven,” part. pa. dead
Yvel, adj. Sax. bad, unfortunate
I have print-Yvel, adv. Sax, ill
Yvoire, n. Fr. ivory
*Several improbable conjectures, which have bech
made with reſpect to the real name and age of this writ-
er, may be ſeen in the Menagiana, vol. i. p. 172, and in
Fabric. Bibl. Lat. vol. i. p. 376, ed. Patav. In the edi-
tion of theſe fables, in 1503 the commentator (of no great
authority I confefs) mentions an opinion of fome people
that Galtcrus Angelicus fecit bunc librum fub nomine FJopi.
fuppofe the perſon meant was Gualterus Anglicus, who
had been tutor to William II. King of Sicily, and was Arch-
bishop of Palermo about the year 1170. I cannot believe
that they were much older than his time, and in the be-
ginning of the next century they feem to be mentioned
under the name of Elopus, among the books cominonly
read in fchools, by Eberhardus Bethunienfis in his Laby
rinibus, tract, iii de Verfificatione, v. 11. See Leyfer, Hist.
Poet. Med. Evi. p. 826. About the middle of the fame
century (the 13th) Vincent of Beauvais, in his Speculum
Histor. 1. iii. c. 2. gives an account of fop, and a large
fpecimen of his fables, quas Romulus quidam de Gracto in
Latinum transtulit, et ad filium fuum Tyberinum dirigit; they
are all, as I remember, in the printed Romulus.--Soon after
the invention of printing, a larger collection of the tables
of lop was made and published in Germany; it is di- |
vided into fix books, to which is prefixed a life of fop
e Graeco Latina per Rimicium facta. The three firit are
compofed of the fixty elegiac fables of the metrical Æſo.
pus, with a few trifling variations, and to each of them is
hjoined a fable on the fame fubject in profe from Ro-
Z
mulas book iv. contains the remaining fables of Romu.
lus in profe only. The fifth book has not more than one
or two fables which had ever appeared before under the
name of fop; the reft are taken from the Gefta Roma-
norum, the Cătilahu Damnab, and other obſcurer authors.
The fixth and latt book contains ſeventeen fables with the
following title, Sequuntur fabule nove Ffopi ex translatione
Remicii. There has been a great diversity of opinion
ainong learned men concerning this Remicius or Rimicius,
(Sce Praef. Nilant,) while fome have confounded him
with the fi&itious Romulus, and others have confidered
him as the editor of this collection. I have no doubt that
the perfon meant is that Rinucius who translated the life
of fop by Planudes and ninety-fix of his fables from
the Greek into Latin, about the middle of the 15th cen-
tury. (See Fabric. Bibl. Med. Et. in v. Rimicius. In his
tranflation of the epittles of Hippocrates, mf. Harl. 3527,
he is ttyled in one place Verdenfis, and in another Caffilio-
nenfis.). All the fables from Remicius which compoſe this
fixth book, as well as the life of fop, which is profeffed-
ly taken from Rimicius, are to be found in this tranflation
by Rinucius. There is an edition of it printed at Milan
about 1480, but it might very poffibly have come into the
hands of the German collector in mf. fome years fooner, as
the firſt tranſlations of Greek authors were eagerly fought
after and circulated through Europe at that time, when
very few perſons were capable of feading the originals.
}
1
CONTENT S.
WORKS OF CHAUCER.
Page
Page
THE Author's Life,
THE CANTERBURY TALES.
The Prologue,
The Knightes Tale,
The Milleres Tale,
The Plowman's Prologue,
218
The First part of the Tale,
219
The Second Part of the Tale,
222
The Prologue; or, The mery adventure
I
of the Pardonere and Tapftere at the Inn
9
at Canterbury,
230
1
28
The Merchant's Second Tale; or, The
The Reves Prologue,
The Reves Tale,
The Cokes Prologue,
The Cokes Tale,
The Man of Lawes Prologue,
The Man of Lawes Tale.
The Wif of Bathes Prologue,
The Wif of Bathes Tale,
The Freres Prologue,
The Freres Tale,
The Sompnoures Prologue,
The Sompnoures Tale,
The Clerkes Prologue,
The Clerkes Tale,
The Marchantes Prologue,
The Marchantes Tale,
The Squieres Prologue,
The Squieres Tale,
The Frankeleines Prologue,
The Frankeleines Tale,
The Doctoures Prologue,
The Doctoures Tale,
The Pardoneres Prologue,
The Pardoneres Tale,
The Shipmannes Prologue,
The Shipmannes Tale,
The Prioreffes Prologue,
The Prioreffes Tale,
Prologue to Sire Thopas,
The Rime of Sire Thopas,
Prologue to Melibeus,
Tale of Melibeus,
The Monkes Prologue,
The Monkes Tale,
The Nonnes Preeftes Prologue,
The Nonnes Preeftes Tale,
The Second Nonnes Tale,
•
AD
The Chanones Yemannes Prologue,
The Chanones Yemannes Tale,
The Manciples Prologue,
34
Hiſtory of Beryn,
239
35
39
MISCELLANIES.
ib.
41
The Romaunt of the Roſe,
274
42
53
Troilus and Crefeide, in Five Books,
Book I.
337
1
1
58
62
63
Prooemium Libri Secundi
347
Liber Secundus,
348
Proœmium Libri Tertii,
362
66
Incipit Liber Tertius,
363
ib.
Proœmium Libri Quarti,
378
72
Incipit Liber Quartus,
379
73
Incipit Liber Quintus,
393
83 Teftament of Fair Crefeide,
409
ib. The Legende of Good Women,
413
93
The Legende of Cleopatra, Queen of E-
ib.
gypt,
420
107
99 The Legende of Thiſbe of Babylone,
ib. The Legende of Dido Queene of Carthage,
The Legende of Hypfipyle and Medea,
ib. The Legende of Lucrece of Rome,
422
425
429
432
FIO
The Legende of Ariadne of Athens,
ib. The Legende of Philomela,
116 The Legende of Phyllis,
434
438
440
1
A Praiſe of Women,
124
1
+
128 The Affemble of Foutes,
144
ib. The Legende of Hypermneſtra,
121
ib. La Belle Dame Sans Mercy.-
logue
ib. The Affemble of Ladies,
127 Chaucer's Dreame,
Of the Cuckowe and the Nightingale,
145 How Pyte is dede, and buried in gentyle
442
444
-A Dia-
446
455
46%
497
498
152
herte,
50%
ib. Verfes,
504
158 Gode Counfaile of Chaucer,
506
163 Chaucer's A, B, C,-called la Praere de
164
Noftre Dame,
1
50%
The Manciples Talc,
The Perfones Prologue,
'The Perfones Tale,
The Coke's Tale of Gamelyn,
172 The Complaint of the Blacke Knight,
175 The Complaint of Mars and Venus,
176 The Complaint of Mars,
203 The Complaint of Venus,
171
Of Quene Annelida and Falfe Arcite,
$10
SIA
520
522
1
$24.
726
CONTENT S.
Fage
Page
Yet of the Same,
The Lamentacion of Marie Magdaleine,
The Floure and the Leafe,
The Court of Love,
Prologue to the Remedy of Love,
The Remedy of Love,
A Saiying of Dan John,
Motto to Jack Upland,
The Houſe of Fame,
The Prologue,
525 A proverbe agaynft covetife and negli-
532 gence,
579
550
538 A balade which Chaucer made againſt wo-
men unconftant,
ib.
555
ib.
A
1
551 A balade which Chancer made in the praiſe
or rather difpreiſe of women for ther
doubleness,
580
ib.
The Craft of Lovers,
581
556
A Balade,
582
The First Boke,
The Second Boke,
.I
.
ib.
The Ten Commandments of Love,
ib.
557
The Nine Ladies Worthie,
583
561
A Ballade,
584
The Third Boke,
566
Another,
S
585
CERTAINE BALADES, &C.
godely Balade,
575
How Mercurie, Pallas, Venus, and Juno,
appcared to Paris of Troie, he flepying
A Balade in commendacion of our Ladie,
ib.
by a fountain,
ib.
1
Balade de bon confall,
577
A balade pleafaunte,
586
Balade of the Village without paintyng,
Chaucer to his emptie purſe,
578
Another Balade,
ib.
579
Chaucer unto the Kinge,
ib.
A balade made by Chaucer, teching what
is gentilneſs, or who is worthy to be cal-
led gentil,
ib.
A balade warning men to beware of deceit
ful women,
A balade declaring that womens chaſtitie
doeth moche excel all trefure worldly,
Chaucer's wordes unto his own fcrivenere,"
ib.
587
ib.
WORKS OF SURREY
Fage
Page
THE Author's Life,
The Original Preface,
SONGES AND SONNETTES.
0 1
595
Defcription of the reftlefs ftate of a lover
with fuite to his lady, to rue on his dieng
hart,
591 Prifoner in Windfor, he recounteth his
594 pleaſure there paffed,
598
F
Complaint of the abfence of her lover being
upon the feas,
The lover comforteth himfelf with the wor-
thyneffe of hys love,
599
ib.
Deſcription of ſpring, wherein ech thing
renewes, fave only the lover,
Deſcription of the reſtleſs ſtate of a lover,
Defcription of the fickle affections, pangs,
and fleights of love,
ib.
ib.
Complaint of a dying lover refuſed upon
his ladyes infult myftaking of his wryting, ib.
Complaint of the abfence of her lover beyng
upon the fea,
бої
596
A praife of his love, wherein he reprov-
eth them that compare their ladies with
The complainte of a lover that defied love,
his,
ib.
and was by love after the more tor-
mented,
To a lady that fkorned her lover,
ib.
ib.
A warning to the lover how he is abufed by
Complaint of a lover rebuked,
597
his love,
602
Complaint of a lover difdained,
ib.
The forfaken lover defcribeth, and forfaketh
Deſcription and praife of his love Geral-
dine,
love,
ib.
ib.
The lover defcribes his reftleffe eftate,
ib.
The frailtye and hurtfulnes of beauty,
ib.
The complaint by night of the lover not
beloved,
The lover excufeth himself of fufpected
change,
603
598
How eche thing, fave the lover, in fpring
reinueth to pleafure,
ib.
The carcleffe man fcorning and defcribing
the futtle ufage of women towards their
lovers
ib.
A vowe to love faithfully, howfoever he
be rewarded,
ib.
An aunfwere in the behalf of a woman of
an uncertaine auctor,
ib.
Complaint that his lady after fhe knew of
The conflant lover lamenteth,
COA
his love, kept her face always hydden
from him,
ib.
Requeft to his love to join bountie with
Beautie,
A fong written by the Earle of Surrey,
to a lady that refufed to daunce with
him,
ib.
ib,
The faithfull lover declareth his paynes, and-
CONTENTS.
727
his uncertaine joyes, and with only hope
recomfort fomewhat his woful heart,
Page
Page
happieft, if they had fkill to underſtand
-
605
it,
ib.
The meates to attayne happy life,
Prayle of mcane and conftant eftate,
606
ib.
Prayles of certain Pfalmes of David, tran-
flated by Sir T. W. the elder,
Of the death of the fame Sir T. W.
Bonum eft mihi quod humiliafti me,
Exhortation to learne by others trouble,
The fanfi of a wearied lover,
ib.
608
ib.
ib.
ib.
Of the fame,
ib.
Of the lame,
ib.
-
Of Sardanapalus difhonourable life and mifer-
able death,
Dido and Æneas going to the field; tranf-
lated from the Fourth Book of Virgil's
Eneide,
Dido's paffion, and its effectes on the ryfinge
citie, from the fame,
609
ib.
ib.
How no age is content with his own eftate,
and how the age of children is the
Over the tomb of Thomas Clere, Efq. in
Lambeth Church, was formerly a tablet
with the following Epitaph, written by
the Earl of Surrey,
610
WORKS OF WYAT.
Page
Page
THE Author's Life,
613
man, and eſpied this other fitting with
her,
619
SONGES AND SONNETTES.
To his love from whom he had his gloves,
Of the fayned frend,
620
ib.
The lover for fhamefaftneffe hidesh his de-
fire within his faithful heart,
617
The lover waxeth wyfer, and will not dye
for affection,
The lover taught, miftrufteth allurements,
The lover complaineth that his love doeth-
not pitie him,
-
22
ib.
ib.
ib.
The lover rejosfeth againſt fortune, that
The abufed lover feeth his foly, and intend-
eth to truſt no more,
ib.
by hindering his fuite had happily made
him forfake his folly,
ib.
The lover defcribeth his being friken with
A renouncing of hardily eſcaped love,
ib.
fight of his love,
ib.
The lover to his bed, with defcribing of
The wavering lover willeth and dreadeth
his unquiet ſtate,
621
to move his defire,
ib.
The lover having dreamed enjoying of his
Comparison of love, to a ftreame falling
from the Alps,
ib.
love, complaineth that the dreame is not
either longer or truer,
618
Wyates complaint upon love to reafon,
with loves aunſwere,
ib.
The lover unhappy, bideth happy lovers
rejoice in May, while he wayleth that
month to him moſt unluckely,
ib.
-
The lovers forrowfull ftatc maketh him write
forrowfull fonges, but fouche, his love may
change the fame,
622
The lover confeffeth himfelf in love with
Phillis,
ib.
The lover complaineth himſelf forſaken,
Of his love that pricked her finger with a
ib.
Of others fained forrow, and the lovers fained
mirch,
needle,
623
ib.
Of the fame,
ibi
Of chaunge in minde,
ib.
Request to Cupide for revenge of his un-
How the lover perifheth in his delight, as
they flye in the fier,
kind love,
ib.
ib.
Complaint for true love unrequited,
ib.
Against his tong that failed to utter his
fuites,
ib.
The lover that filed love, now folowes it
with his harme,
ib.
Defcription of the contrarious paffions in a
lover,
The lover hopeth of better chaunce,
ib.
The lover compareth his ftate to a fhippe in
perilous forme toffed on the fea,
619 The lover compareth his hart to the over-
• Of doubtful love,
22
charged gonne,
ib.
ib.
ib.
The lover fufpected of change, praieth that it
be not beleved againſt him,
ib.
The lover fheweth how he is forfaken of
fuch as he fometime enjoyed,
The lover abuſed renounceth love,
ib.
ib
The lover profeffeth himſelf conſtant,
624
The lady to aunfwere directly with yea or
nay,
ib.
To his love whom he had kiffed against her
will,
The lover fendeth his complaints and teares
to fue for grace,
ib.
ib
The lovers cafe cannot be hidden, however
he diffemble,
ib.
Of the jealous man that loved the fame wo-
428
CONTENTS.
$
Page
Page
The lover praieth not to be diſdained, nor
refuſed, miſtruſted, nor forſaken,
Deſcription of a gonne,
63
625
Wyat being in prifon to Bryan,
ib.
The lover lamenteth his eſtate, with fute for
grace,
Of diffembling woords,
ib.
ib.
Of the mean and fure eftate,
The lover waileth his changed joyes,
ib.
The courtier's life,
To his love that has given anſwere of re-
fufall,
Of diſappointed purpoſe by negligence,
634
ib.
Of his returne from Spayne,
'
To his ladie, cruel over her yelden lover,
The lover complaineth that deadly fickneſs
cannot help his affection,
626
Of fodaine truſting,
ib.
Of the mother that eat her child at the ſiege
of Jerufalem,
ச சசசசசி
The lover rejoyceth the enjoying of his love,
The lover complaineth the unkindneſs of his
love,
ib.
Of the meane and fure eſtate, written to John
Poynes,
ib.
ib.
How by a kifs, he found both his life and death,
The lover defcribeth his
ib.
g taken with
fight of his love,
ib.
Of the courtier's life, written to John Poynes, 635
How to uſe the court, and himſelf therein,
written to Syr Fraunces Bryan,
The fong of Jopas, unfiniſhed,
636
637
To his lover to look upon hi
The lover exci feth him ‹
with he was uftly c.
Of fuch as had .urlaken hi
A deſcription f ſuch a on
How impoffible it is to fy
Of love, fortune, and the lov
The lover praifeth his offered
ceived,
The lover's lif compa
627
des, where-
ib.
UNCERTAINE AUCTORES.
jb.
he would love, ib.
ietneffe in love, ib.
's mind,
hart to be re-
SONGES AND SONETTES.
A PRAISE of his ladie,
628
They of the meane eftate are happieſt,
ib.
ot
Charging of h
ve uiteo
lpes,
nd loveing
ib.
other,
ib.
A renouncing
ib.
inve,
The lover fore. h his
h his
kind
ve,
ib.
The lover defcribeth his . ftleff
The lover laments the dea
The lover fendeth fighest rov
Complainte of the abfence fhis. ve,
ate,
ib.
of
love,
629
is ſuite,
ib.
ib.
The lover blåmeth his love
r ret ting of the
་ །
letter he fer her,
630
-
Upon confideration of the ſtate of this life,
he wifhed death,
The lover that once difdained love, is now
become ſubject, being caught in his fnare,
Harpalus complaint of Philliades love be-
ftowed on Corin, who loved her not, and
denied him that loved her,
Of the death of Philips,
That all things fometime finde caſe of theyr
payne, ſave only the lover,
Th' affaute of Cupide upon the fort where the
lover's hart lay wounded, and how he was
taken,
638
ib.
639
ib.
ib.
640
ib.
641
The lover cur.
the time when fyrſt he fell
The aged lover renounceth love,
ib.
in love,
ib.
The lover det rmineth to ferve faithfully,
631
Of the death of Sir Thomas Wyat the Elder, ib.
Of a new married ſtudent that plaied faſt or
1
The lover fufted, blameth
tongues,
ib.
lofe,
642
The lover complaineth, and hi
comforteth, ib.
The lover in defpare, lamenteth his cafe
ib.
Why love is blinde,
ib.
Of his Maiſtreffe, M. B.
ib.
To his unkinde love,
632
A praife of Maiftreffe R.
ib,
The lover blameth his in ant defyre,
ib.
Songes written by G. N. of the Nine Mules,
643
That ſpeaking or p
The lover complaineth his eftate,
Of his love called Anna,
That pleaſure is mixed with every paine,
A riddle of a gyft given by a ladie,
fpeding,
He ruleth not, though ne..
that is fubject to his owr
Whether libertie by loffe of
fon and thraldome, be to
Againſt hourdes of money
.S,
or life in pri-
prefered,
ib.
Mufonius, the philofopher's, faying,
ib.
ib.
Defcription of virtue,
644
ib.
Praiſe of meaſure keeping,
ib.
ib.
Man's life, after Pofiidonius or Crates,
ib.
bringes alway
Metrodorius's mynde to the contrary,
ib.
ib.
Of friendship,
ib.
over realmes,
The death of Zoroas, an Egyptian aftrono-
ib.
mer, in the firſt fight that Alexander had
with the Perfians,
645
633
Marcus Tullius Cicero's death,
646
ib.
of M. T. Cicero,
647
WORKS OF SACKVILLE.
THE Author's Life,
651 The Complaynt of Henry Duke of Bucking-
a
The Induction to a Mirror for Magiſtrates, 655
661
ham,
GLOSSARY,
669
ET
◊ i