Confessio Amantis, by John Gower

Incipit Liber Quintus

Obstat auaricia nature legibus, et que

     Largus amor poscit, striccius illa vetat.

Omne quod est nimium viciosum dicitur aurum,

     Vellera sicut oues, seruat auarus opes.

Non decet vt soli seruabitur es, set amori

     Debet homo solam solus habere suam.

Ferst whan the hyhe god began

This world, and that the kinde of man

Was falle into no gret encress,

For worldes good tho was no press,

Bot al was set to the comune.

Thei spieken thanne of no fortune

Or forto lese or forto winne,

Til Avarice broghte it inne;

And that was whan the world was woxe

10Of man, of hors, of Schep, of Oxe,

And that men knewen the moneie.

Tho wente pes out of the weie

And werre cam on every side,

Which alle love leide aside

And of comun his propre made,

So that in stede of schovele and spade

The scharpe swerd was take on honde;

And in this wise it cam to londe,

Wherof men maden dyches depe

20And hyhe walles forto kepe

The gold which Avarice encloseth.

Bot al to lytel him supposeth,

Thogh he mihte al the world pourchace;

For what thing that he may embrace

Of gold, of catel or of lond,

He let it nevere out of his hond,

Bot get him more and halt it faste,

As thogh the world scholde evere laste.

So is he lych unto the helle;

30For as these olde bokes telle,

What comth therinne, lasse or more,

It schal departe neveremore:

Thus whanne he hath his cofre loken,

It schal noght after ben unstoken,

Bot whanne him list to have a syhte

Of gold, hou that it schyneth brihte,

That he ther on mai loke and muse;

For otherwise he dar noght use

To take his part, or lasse or more.

40So is he povere, and everemore

Him lacketh that he hath ynowh:

An Oxe draweth in the plowh,

Of that himself hath no profit;

A Schep riht in the same plit

His wolle berth, bot on a day

An other takth the flees away:

Thus hath he, that he noght ne hath,

For he therof his part ne tath.

To seie hou such a man hath good,

50Who so that reson understod,

It is impropreliche seid,

For good hath him and halt him teid,

That he ne gladeth noght withal,

Bot is unto his good a thral,

And as soubgit thus serveth he,

Wher that he scholde maister be:

Such is the kinde of thaverous.

Mi Sone, as thou art amerous,

Tell if thou farst of love so.

60Mi fader, as it semeth, no;

That averous yit nevere I was,

So as ye setten me the cas:

For as ye tolden here above,

In full possession of love

Yit was I nevere hier tofore,

So that me thenketh wel therfore,

I mai excuse wel my dede.

Bot of mi will withoute drede,

If I that tresor mihte gete,

70It scholde nevere be foryete,

That I ne wolde it faste holde,

Til god of love himselve wolde

That deth ous scholde part atuo.

For lieveth wel, I love hire so,

That evene with min oghne lif,

If I that swete lusti wif

Mihte ones welden at my wille,

For evere I wolde hire holde stille:

And in this wise, taketh kepe,

80If I hire hadde, I wolde hire kepe,

And yit no friday wolde I faste,

Thogh I hire kepte and hielde faste.

Fy on the bagges in the kiste!

I hadde ynogh, if I hire kiste.

For certes, if sche were myn,

I hadde hir levere than a Myn

Of Gold; for al this worldesriche

Ne mihte make me so riche

As sche, that is so inly good.

90I sette noght of other good;

For mihte I gete such a thing,

I hadde a tresor for a king;

And thogh I wolde it faste holde,

I were thanne wel beholde.

Bot I mot pipe nou with lasse,

And suffre that it overpasse,

Noght with mi will, for thus I wolde

Ben averous, if that I scholde.

Bot, fader, I you herde seie

100Hou thaverous hath yit som weie,

Wherof he mai be glad; for he

Mai whanne him list his tresor se,

And grope and fiele it al aboute,

Bot I fulofte am schet theroute,

Ther as my worthi tresor is.

So is mi lif lich unto this,

That ye me tolden hier tofore,

Hou that an Oxe his yock hath bore

For thing that scholde him noght availe:

110And in this wise I me travaile;

For who that evere hath the welfare,

I wot wel that I have the care,

For I am hadd and noght ne have,

And am, as who seith, loves knave.

Nou demeth in youre oghne thoght,

If this be Avarice or noght.

Mi Sone, I have of thee no wonder,

Thogh thou to serve be put under

With love, which to kinde acordeth:

120Bot, so as every bok recordeth,

It is to kinde no plesance

That man above his sustienance

Unto the gold schal serve and bowe,

For that mai no reson avowe.

Bot Avarice natheles,

If he mai geten his encress

Of gold, that wole he serve and kepe,

For he takth of noght elles kepe,

Bot forto fille hise bagges large;

130And al is to him bot a charge,

For he ne parteth noght withal,

Bot kepth it, as a servant schal:

And thus, thogh that he multeplie

His gold, withoute tresorie

He is, for man is noght amended

With gold, bot if it be despended

To mannes us; wherof I rede

A tale, and tak therof good hiede,

Of that befell be olde tyde,

140As telleth ous the clerk Ovide.

Bachus, which is the god of wyn,

Acordant unto his divin

A Prest, the which Cillenus hihte,

He hadde, and fell so that be nyhte

This Prest was drunke and goth astraied,

Wherof the men were evele apaied

In Frigelond, where as he wente.

Bot ate laste a cherl him hente

With strengthe of other felaschipe,

150So that upon his drunkeschipe

Thei bounden him with chenes faste,

And forth thei ladde him als so faste

Unto the king, which hihte Myde.

Bot he, that wolde his vice hyde,

This courteis king, tok of him hiede,

And bad that men him scholde lede

Into a chambre forto kepe,

Til he of leisir hadde slepe.

And tho this Prest was sone unbounde,

160And up a couche fro the grounde

To slepe he was leid softe ynowh;

And whanne he wok, the king him drowh

To his presence and dede him chiere,

So that this Prest in such manere,

Whil that him liketh, there he duelleth:

And al this he to Bachus telleth,

Whan that he cam to him ayein.

And whan that Bachus herde sein

How Mide hath don his courtesie,

170Him thenkth it were a vilenie,

Bot he rewarde him for his dede,

So as he mihte of his godhiede.

Unto this king this god appiereth

And clepeth, and that other hiereth:

This god to Mide thonketh faire

Of that he was so debonaire

Toward his Prest, and bad him seie:

What thing it were he wolde preie,

He scholde it have, of worldes good.

180This king was glad, and stille stod,

And was of his axinge in doute,

And al the world he caste aboute,

What thing was best for his astat,

And with himself stod in debat

Upon thre pointz, the whiche I finde

Ben lievest unto mannes kinde.

The ferste of hem it is delit,

The tuo ben worschipe and profit.

And thanne he thoghte, “If that I crave

190Delit, thogh I delit mai have,

Delit schal passen in myn age:

That is no siker avantage,

For every joie bodily

Schal ende in wo: delit forthi

Wol I noght chese. And if worschipe

I axe and of the world lordschipe,

That is an occupacion

Of proud ymaginacion,

Which makth an herte vein withinne;

200Ther is no certain forto winne,

For lord and knave al is o weie,

Whan thei be bore and whan thei deie.

And if I profit axe wolde,

I not in what manere I scholde

Of worldes good have sikernesse;

For every thief upon richesse

Awaiteth forto robbe and stele:

Such good is cause of harmes fele.

And also, thogh a man at ones

210Of al the world withinne his wones

The tresor myhte have everydel,

Yit hadde he bot o mannes del

Toward himself, so as I thinke,

Of clothinge and of mete and drinke,

For more, outake vanite,

Ther hath no lord in his degre.”

And thus upon the pointz diverse

Diverseliche he gan reherce

What point him thoghte for the beste;

220Bot pleinly forto gete him reste

He can so siker weie caste.

And natheles yit ate laste

He fell upon the coveitise

Of gold; and thanne in sondri wise

He thoghte, as I have seid tofore,

Hou tresor mai be sone lore,

And hadde an inly gret desir

Touchende of such recoverir,

Hou that he mihte his cause availe

230To gete him gold withoute faile.

Withinne his herte and thus he preiseth

The gold, and seith hou that it peiseth

Above al other metall most:

“The gold,” he seith, “may lede an host

To make werre ayein a King;

The gold put under alle thing,

And set it whan him list above;

The gold can make of hate love

And werre of pes and ryht of wrong,

240And long to schort and schort to long;

Withoute gold mai be no feste,

Gold is the lord of man and beste,

And mai hem bothe beie and selle;

So that a man mai sothly telle

That al the world to gold obeieth.”

Forthi this king to Bachus preieth

To grante him gold, bot he excedeth

Mesure more than him nedeth.

Men tellen that the maladie

250Which cleped is ydropesie

Resembled is unto this vice

Be weie of kinde of Avarice:

The more ydropesie drinketh,

The more him thursteth, for him thinketh

That he mai nevere drinke his fille;

So that ther mai nothing fulfille

The lustes of his appetit:

And riht in such a maner plit

Stant Avarice and evere stod;

260The more he hath of worldes good,

The more he wolde it kepe streyte,

And evere mor and mor coveite.

And riht in such condicioun

Withoute good discrecioun

This king with avarice is smite,

That al the world it myhte wite:

For he to Bachus thanne preide,

That wherupon his hond he leide,

It scholde thurgh his touche anon

270Become gold, and therupon

This god him granteth as he bad.

Tho was this king of Frige glad,

And forto put it in assai

With al the haste that he mai,

He toucheth that, he toucheth this,

And in his hond al gold it is,

The Ston, the Tree, the Lef, the gras,

The flour, the fruit, al gold it was.

Thus toucheth he, whil he mai laste

280To go, bot hunger ate laste

Him tok, so that he moste nede

Be weie of kinde his hunger fede.

The cloth was leid, the bord was set,

And al was forth tofore him fet,

His disch, his coppe, his drinke, his mete;

Bot whanne he wolde or drinke or ete,

Anon as it his mouth cam nyh,

It was al gold, and thanne he syh

Of Avarice the folie.

290And he with that began to crie,

And preide Bachus to foryive

His gilt, and soffre him forto live

And be such as he was tofore,

So that he were not forlore.

This god, which herde of his grevance,

Tok rowthe upon his repentance,

And bad him go forth redily

Unto a flod was faste by,

Which Paceole thanne hyhte,

300In which as clene as evere he myhte

He scholde him waisshen overal,

And seide him thanne that he schal

Recovere his ferste astat ayein.

This king, riht as he herde sein,

Into the flod goth fro the lond,

And wissh him bothe fot and hond,

And so forth al the remenant,

As him was set in covenant:

And thanne he syh merveilles strange,

310The flod his colour gan to change,

The gravel with the smale Stones

To gold thei torne bothe at ones,

And he was quit of that he hadde,

And thus fortune his chance ladde.

And whan he sih his touche aweie,

He goth him hom the rihte weie

And liveth forth as he dede er,

And putte al Avarice afer,

And the richesse of gold despiseth,

320And seith that mete and cloth sufficeth.

Thus hath this king experience

Hou foles don the reverence

To gold, which of his oghne kinde

Is lasse worth than is the rinde

To sustienance of mannes fode;

And thanne he made lawes goode

And al his thing sette upon skile:

He bad his poeple forto tile

Here lond, and live under the lawe,

330And that thei scholde also forthdrawe

Bestaile, and seche non encress

Of gold, which is the breche of pes.

For this a man mai finde write,

Tofor the time, er gold was smite

In Coign, that men the florin knewe,

Ther was welnyh noman untrewe;

Tho was ther nouther schield ne spere

Ne dedly wepne forto bere;

Tho was the toun withoute wal,

340Which nou is closed overal;

Tho was ther no brocage in londe,

Which nou takth every cause on honde:

So mai men knowe, hou the florin

Was moder ferst of malengin

And bringere inne of alle werre,

Wherof this world stant out of herre

Thurgh the conseil of Avarice,

Which of his oghne propre vice

Is as the helle wonderfull;

350For it mai neveremor be full,

That what as evere comth therinne,

Awey ne may it nevere winne.

Bot Sone myn, do thou noght so,

Let al such Avarice go,

And tak thi part of that thou hast:

I bidde noght that thou do wast,

Bot hold largesce in his mesure;

And if thou se a creature,

Which thurgh poverte is falle in nede,

360Yif him som good, for this I rede

To him that wol noght yiven here,

What peine he schal have elleswhere.

Ther is a peine amonges alle

Benethe in helle, which men calle

The wofull peine of Tantaly,

Of which I schal thee redely

Devise hou men therinne stonde.

In helle, thou schalt understonde,

Ther is a flod of thilke office,

370Which serveth al for Avarice:

What man that stonde schal therinne,

He stant up evene unto the chinne;

Above his hed also ther hongeth

A fruyt, which to that peine longeth,

And that fruit toucheth evere in on

His overlippe: and therupon

Swich thurst and hunger him assaileth,

That nevere his appetit ne faileth.

Bot whanne he wolde his hunger fede,

380The fruit withdrawth him ate nede,

And thogh he heve his hed on hyh,

The fruit is evere aliche nyh,

So is the hunger wel the more:

And also, thogh him thurste sore

And to the water bowe a doun,

The flod in such condicioun

Avaleth, that his drinke areche

He mai noght. Lo nou, which a wreche,

That mete and drinke is him so couth,

390And yit ther comth non in his mouth!

Lich to the peines of this flod

Stant Avarice in worldes good:

He hath ynowh and yit him nedeth,

For his skarsnesse it him forbiedeth,

And evere his hunger after more

Travaileth him aliche sore,

So is he peined overal.

Forthi thi goodes forth withal,

Mi Sone, loke thou despende,

400Wherof thou myht thiself amende

Bothe hier and ek in other place.

And also if thou wolt pourchace

To be beloved, thou most use

Largesce, for if thou refuse

To yive for thi loves sake,

It is no reson that thou take

Of love that thou woldest crave.

Forthi, if thou wolt grace have,

Be gracious and do largesse,

410Of Avarice and the seknesse

Eschuie above alle other thing,

And tak ensample of Mide king

And of the flod of helle also,

Where is ynowh of alle wo.

And thogh ther were no matiere

Bot only that we finden hiere,

Men oghten Avarice eschuie;

For what man thilke vice suie,

He get himself bot litel reste.

420For hou so that the body reste,

The herte upon the gold travaileth,

Whom many a nyhtes drede assaileth;

For thogh he ligge abedde naked,

His herte is everemore awaked,

And dremeth, as he lith to slepe,

How besi that he is to kepe

His tresor, that no thief it stele.

Thus hath he bot a woful wele.

And riht so in the same wise,

430If thou thiself wolt wel avise,

Ther be lovers of suche ynowe,

That wole unto no reson bowe.

If so be that thei come above,

Whan thei ben maistres of here love,

And that thei scholden be most glad,

With love thei ben most bestad,

So fain thei wolde it holden al.

Here herte, here yhe is overal,

And wenen every man be thief,

440To stele awey that hem is lief;

Thus thurgh here oghne fantasie

Thei fallen into Jelousie.

Thanne hath the Schip tobroke his cable,

With every wynd and is muable.

Mi fader, for that ye nou telle,

I have herd ofte time telle

Of Jelousie, bot what it is

Yit understod I nevere er this:

Wherfore I wolde you beseche,

450That ye me wolde enforme and teche

What maner thing it mihte be.

Mi Sone, that is hard to me:

Bot natheles, as I have herd,

Now herkne and thou schalt ben ansuerd.

Among the men lacke of manhode

In Mariage upon wifhode

Makth that a man himself deceiveth,

Wherof it is that he conceiveth

That ilke unsely maladie,

460The which is cleped Jelousie:

Of which if I the proprete

Schal telle after the nycete,

So as it worcheth on a man,

A Fievere it is cotidian,

Which every day wol come aboute,

Wher so a man be inne or oute.

At hom if that a man wol wone,

This Fievere is thanne of comun wone

Most grevous in a mannes yhe:

470For thanne he makth him tote and pryhe,

Wher so as evere his love go;

Sche schal noght with hir litel too

Misteppe, bot he se it al.

His yhe is walkende overal;

Wher that sche singe or that sche dance,

He seth the leste contienance,

If sche loke on a man aside

Or with him roune at eny tyde,

Or that sche lawghe, or that sche loure,

480His yhe is ther at every houre.

And whanne it draweth to the nyht,

If sche thanne is withoute lyht,

Anon is al the game schent;

For thanne he set his parlement

To speke it whan he comth to bedde,

And seith, “If I were now to wedde,

I wolde neveremore have wif.”

And so he torneth into strif

The lust of loves duete,

490And al upon diversete.

If sche be freissh and wel araied,

He seith hir baner is displaied

To clepe in gestes fro the weie:

And if sche be noght wel beseie,

And that hir list noght to be gladd,

He berth an hond that sche is madd

And loveth noght hire housebonde;

He seith he mai wel understonde,

That if sche wolde his compaignie,

500Sche scholde thanne afore his ije

Schewe al the plesir that sche mihte.

So that be daie ne be nyhte

Sche not what thing is for the beste,

Bot liveth out of alle reste;

For what as evere him liste sein,

Sche dar noght speke a word ayein,

Bot wepth and holt hire lippes clos.

Sche mai wel wryte, “Sanz repos,”

The wif which is to such on maried.

510Of alle wommen be he waried,

For with this Fievere of Jalousie

His echedaies fantasie

Of sorghe is evere aliche grene,

So that ther is no love sene,

Whil that him list at hom abyde.

And whan so is he wol out ryde,

Thanne hath he redi his aspie

Abidinge in hir compaignie,

A janglere, an evel mouthed oon,

520That sche ne mai nowhider gon,

Ne speke a word, ne ones loke,

That he ne wol it wende and croke

And torne after his oghne entente,

Thogh sche nothing bot honour mente.

Whan that the lord comth hom ayein,

The janglere moste somwhat sein;

So what withoute and what withinne,

This Fievere is evere to beginne,

For where he comth he can noght ende,

530Til deth of him have mad an ende.

For thogh so be that he ne hiere

Ne se ne wite in no manere

Bot al honour and wommanhiede,

Therof the Jelous takth non hiede,

Bot as a man to love unkinde,

He cast his staf, as doth the blinde,

And fint defaulte where is non;

As who so dremeth on a Ston

Hou he is leid, and groneth ofte,

540Whan he lith on his pilwes softe.

So is ther noght bot strif and cheste;

Whan love scholde make his feste,

It is gret thing if he hir kisse:

Thus hath sche lost the nyhtes blisse,

For at such time he gruccheth evere

And berth on hond ther is a levere,

And that sche wolde an other were

In stede of him abedde there;

And with tho wordes and with mo

550Of Jelousie, he torneth fro

And lith upon his other side,

And sche with that drawth hire aside,

And ther sche wepeth al the nyht.

Ha, to what peine sche is dyht,

That in hire youthe hath so beset

The bond which mai noght ben unknet!

I wot the time is ofte cursed,

That evere was the gold unpursed,

The which was leid upon the bok,

560Whan that alle othre sche forsok

For love of him; bot al to late

Sche pleigneth, for as thanne algate

Sche mot forbere and to him bowe,

Thogh he ne wole it noght allowe.

For man is lord of thilke feire,

So mai the womman bot empeire,

If sche speke oght ayein his wille;

And thus sche berth hir peine stille.

Bot if this Fievere a womman take,

570Sche schal be wel mor harde schake;

For thogh sche bothe se and hiere,

And finde that ther is matiere,

Sche dar bot to hirselve pleine,

And thus sche suffreth double peine.

Lo thus, mi Sone, as I have write,

Thou miht of Jelousie wite

His fievere and his condicion,

Which is full of suspecion.

Bot wherof that this fievere groweth,

580Who so these olde bokes troweth,

Ther mai he finden hou it is:

For thei ous teche and telle this,

Hou that this fievere of Jelousie

Somdel it groweth of sotie

Of love, and somdiel of untrust.

For as a sek man lest his lust,

And whan he may no savour gete,

He hateth thanne his oughne mete,

Riht so this fieverous maladie,

590Which caused is of fantasie,

Makth the Jelous in fieble plit

To lese of love his appetit

Thurgh feigned enformacion

Of his ymaginacion.

Bot finali to taken hiede,

Men mai wel make a liklihiede

Betwen him which is averous

Of gold and him that is jelous

Of love, for in on degre

600Thei stonde bothe, as semeth me.

That oon wolde have his bagges stille,

And noght departen with his wille,

And dar noght for the thieves slepe,

So fain he wolde his tresor kepe;

That other mai noght wel be glad,

For he is evere more adrad

Of these lovers that gon aboute,

In aunter if thei putte him oute.

So have thei bothe litel joye

610As wel of love as of monoie.

Now hast thou, Sone, at my techinge

Of Jelousie a knowlechinge,

That thou myht understonde this,

Fro whenne he comth and what he is,

And ek to whom that he is lik.

Be war forthi thou be noght sik

Of thilke fievere as I have spoke,

For it wol in himself be wroke.

For love hateth nothing more,

620As men mai finde be the lore

Of hem that whilom were wise,

Hou that thei spieke in many wise.

Mi fader, soth is that ye sein.

Bot forto loke therayein,

Befor this time hou it is falle,

Wherof ther mihte ensample falle

To suche men as be jelous

In what manere it is grevous,

Riht fain I wolde ensample hiere.

630My goode Sone, at thi preiere

Of suche ensamples as I finde,

So as thei comen nou to mynde

Upon this point, of time gon

I thenke forto tellen on.

Ovide wrot of manye thinges,

Among the whiche in his wrytinges

He tolde a tale in Poesie,

Which toucheth unto Jelousie,

Upon a certein cas of love.

640Among the goddes alle above

It fell at thilke time thus:

The god of fyr, which Vulcanus

Is hote, and hath a craft forthwith

Assigned, forto be the Smith

Of Jupiter, and his figure

Bothe of visage and of stature

Is lothly and malgracious,

Bot yit he hath withinne his hous

As for the likynge of his lif

650The faire Venus to his wif.

Bot Mars, which of batailles is

The god, an yhe hadde unto this:

As he which was chivalerous,

It fell him to ben amerous,

And thoghte it was a gret pite

To se so lusti on as sche

Be coupled with so lourde a wiht:

So that his peine day and nyht

He dede, if he hire winne myhte;

660And sche, which hadde a good insihte

Toward so noble a knyhtli lord,

In love fell of his acord.

Ther lacketh noght bot time and place,

That he nys siker of hire grace:

Bot whan tuo hertes falle in on,

So wys await was nevere non,

That at som time thei ne mete;

And thus this faire lusti swete

With Mars hath ofte compaignie.

670Bot thilke unkynde Jelousie,

Which everemor the herte opposeth,

Makth Vulcanus that he supposeth

That it is noght wel overal,

And to himself he seide, he schal

Aspie betre, if that he may;

And so it fell upon a day,

That he this thing so slyhli ledde,

He fond hem bothe tuo abedde

Al warm, echon with other naked.

680And he with craft al redy maked

Of stronge chenes hath hem bounde,

As he togedre hem hadde founde,

And lefte hem bothe ligge so,

And gan to clepe and crie tho

Unto the goddes al aboute;

And thei assembled in a route

Come alle at ones forto se.

Bot none amendes hadde he,

Bot was rebuked hiere and there

690Of hem that loves frendes were;

And seiden that he was to blame,

For if ther fell him eny schame,

It was thurgh his misgovernance:

And thus he loste contienance,

This god, and let his cause falle;

And thei to skorne him lowhen alle,

And losen Mars out of hise bondes.

Wherof these erthli housebondes

For evere myhte ensample take,

700If such a chaunce hem overtake:

For Vulcanus his wif bewreide,

The blame upon himself he leide,

Wherof his schame was the more;

Which oghte forto ben a lore

For every man that liveth hiere,

To reulen him in this matiere.

Thogh such an happ of love asterte,

Yit scholde he noght apointe his herte

With Jelousie of that is wroght,

710Bot feigne, as thogh he wiste it noght:

For if he lete it overpasse,

The sclaundre schal be wel the lasse,

And he the more in ese stonde.

For this thou myht wel understonde,

That where a man schal nedes lese,

The leste harm is forto chese.

Bot Jelousie of his untrist

Makth that full many an harm arist,

Which elles scholde noght arise;

720And if a man him wolde avise

Of that befell to Vulcanus,

Him oghte of reson thenke thus,

That sithe a god therof was schamed,

Wel scholde an erthli man be blamed

To take upon him such a vice.

Forthi, my Sone, in thin office

Be war that thou be noght jelous,

Which ofte time hath schent the hous.

Mi fader, this ensample is hard,

730Hou such thing to the heveneward

Among the goddes myhte falle:

For ther is bot o god of alle,

Which is the lord of hevene and helle.

Bot if it like you to telle

Hou suche goddes come aplace,

Ye mihten mochel thonk pourchace,

For I schal be wel tawht withal.

Mi Sone, it is thus overal

With hem that stonden misbelieved,

740That suche goddes ben believed:

In sondri place sondri wise

Amonges hem whiche are unwise

Ther is betaken of credence;

Wherof that I the difference

In the manere as it is write

Schal do the pleinly forto wite.

Er Crist was bore among ous hiere,

Of the believes that tho were

In foure formes thus it was.

750Thei of Caldee as in this cas

Hadde a believe be hemselve,

Which stod upon the signes tuelve,

Forth ek with the Planetes sevene,

Whiche as thei sihe upon the hevene.

Of sondri constellacion

In here ymaginacion

With sondri kerf and pourtreture

Thei made of goddes the figure.

In thelementz and ek also

760Thei hadden a believe tho;

And al was that unresonable:

For thelementz ben servicable

To man, and ofte of Accidence,

As men mai se thexperience,

Thei ben corrupt be sondri weie;

So mai no mannes reson seie

That thei ben god in eny wise.

And ek, if men hem wel avise,

The Sonne and Mone eclipse bothe,

770That be hem lieve or be hem lothe,

Thei soffre; and what thing is passible

To ben a god is impossible.

These elementz ben creatures,

So ben these hevenly figures,

Wherof mai wel be justefied

That thei mai noght be deified:

And who that takth awey thonour

Which due is to the creatour,

And yifth it to the creature,

780He doth to gret a forsfaiture.

Bot of Caldee natheles

Upon this feith, thogh it be les,

Thei holde affermed the creance;

So that of helle the penance,

As folk which stant out of believe,

They schull receive, as we believe.

Of the Caldeus lo in this wise

Stant the believe out of assisse:

Bot in Egipte worst of alle

790The feith is fals, hou so it falle;

For thei diverse bestes there

Honoure, as thogh thei goddes were:

And natheles yit forth withal

Thre goddes most in special

Thei have, forth with a goddesse,

In whom is al here sikernesse.

Tho goddes be yit cleped thus,

Orus, Typhon and Isirus:

Thei were brethren alle thre,

800And the goddesse in hir degre

Here Soster was and Ysis hyhte,

Whom Isirus forlai be nyhte

And hield hire after as his wif.

So it befell that upon strif

Typhon hath Isre his brother slain,

Which hadde a child to Sone Orayn,

And he his fader deth to herte

So tok, that it mai noght asterte

That he Typhon after ne slowh,

810Whan he was ripe of age ynowh.

Bot yit thegipcienes trowe

For al this errour, which thei knowe,

That these brethren ben of myht

To sette and kepe Egipte upriht,

And overthrowe, if that hem like.

Bot Ysis, as seith the Cronique,

Fro Grece into Egipte cam,

And sche thanne upon honde nam

To teche hem forto sowe and eere,

820Which noman knew tofore there.

And whan thegipcienes syhe

The fieldes fulle afore here yhe,

And that the lond began to greine,

Which whilom hadde be bareigne,-

For therthe bar after the kinde

His due charge — this I finde,

That sche of berthe the goddesse

Is cleped, so that in destresse

The wommen there upon childinge

830To hire clepe, and here offringe

Thei beren, whan that thei ben lyhte.

Lo, hou Egipte al out of syhte

Fro resoun stant in misbelieve

For lacke of lore, as I believe.

Among the Greks, out of the weie

As thei that reson putte aweie,

Ther was, as the Cronique seith,

Of misbelieve an other feith,

That thei here goddes and goddesses,

840As who seith, token al to gesses

Of suche as weren full of vice,

To whom thei made here sacrifice.

The hihe god, so as thei seide,

To whom thei most worschipe leide,

Saturnus hihte, and king of Crete

He hadde be; bot of his sete

He was put doun, as he which stod

In frenesie, and was so wod,

That fro his wif, which Rea hihte,

850Hise oghne children he to plihte,

And eet hem of his comun wone.

Bot Jupiter, which was his Sone

And of full age, his fader bond

And kutte of with his oghne hond

Hise genitals, whiche als so faste

Into the depe See he caste;

Wherof the Greks afferme and seie,

Thus whan thei were caste aweie,

Cam Venus forth be weie of kinde.

860And of Saturne also I finde

How afterward into an yle

This Jupiter him dede exile,

Wher that he stod in gret meschief.

Lo, which a god thei maden chief!

And sithen that such on was he,

Which stod most hihe in his degre

Among the goddes, thou miht knowe,

These othre, that ben more lowe,

Ben litel worth, as it is founde.

870For Jupiter was the secounde,

Which Juno hadde unto his wif;

And yit a lechour al his lif

He was, and in avouterie

He wroghte many a tricherie;

And for he was so full of vices,

Thei cleped him god of delices:

Of whom, if thou wolt more wite,

Ovide the Poete hath write.

Bot yit here Sterres bothe tuo,

880Saturne and Jupiter also,

Thei have, althogh thei be to blame,

Attitled to here oghne name.

Mars was an other in that lawe,

The which in Dace was forthdrawe,

Of whom the clerk Vegecius

Wrot in his bok, and tolde thus,

Hou he into Ytaile cam,

And such fortune ther he nam

That he a Maiden hath oppressed,

890Which in hire ordre was professed,

As sche which was the Prioresse

In Vestes temple the goddesse,

So was sche wel the mor to blame.

Dame Ylia this ladi name

Men clepe, and ek sche was also

The kinges dowhter that was tho,

Which Mynitor be name hihte.

So that ayein the lawes ryhte

Mars thilke time upon hire that

900Remus and Romulus begat,

Whiche after, whan thei come in Age,

Of knihthode and of vassellage

Ytaile al hol thei overcome

And foundeden the grete Rome;

In Armes and of such emprise

Thei weren, that in thilke wise

Here fader Mars for the mervaile

The god was cleped of bataille.

Thei were his children bothe tuo,

910Thurgh hem he tok his name so,

Ther was non other cause why:

And yit a Sterre upon the Sky

He hath unto his name applied,

In which that he is signified.

An other god thei hadden eke,

To whom for conseil thei beseke,

The which was brother to Venus,

Appollo men him clepe thus.

He was an Hunte upon the helles,

920Ther was with him no vertu elles,

Wherof that enye bokes karpe,

Bot only that he couthe harpe;

Which whanne he walked over londe,

Fulofte time he tok on honde,

To gete him with his sustienance,

For lacke of other pourveance.

And otherwhile of his falshede

He feignede him to conne arede

Of thing which after scholde falle;

930Wherof among hise sleyhtes alle

He hath the lewed folk deceived,

So that the betre he was received.

Lo now, thurgh what creacion

He hath deificacion,

And cleped is the god of wit

To suche as be the foles yit.

An other god, to whom thei soghte,

Mercurie hihte, and him ne roghte

What thing he stal, ne whom he slowh.

940Of Sorcerie he couthe ynowh,

That whanne he wolde himself transforme,

Fulofte time he tok the forme

Of womman and his oghne lefte;

So dede he wel the more thefte.

A gret spekere in alle thinges

He was also, and of lesinges

An Auctour, that men wiste non

An other such as he was on.

And yit thei maden of this thief

950A god, which was unto hem lief,

And clepede him in tho believes

The god of Marchantz and of thieves.

Bot yit a sterre upon the hevene

He hath of the planetes sevene.

But Vulcanus, of whom I spak,

He hadde a courbe upon the bak,

And therto he was hepehalt:

Of whom thou understonde schalt,

He was a schrewe in al his youthe,

960And he non other vertu couthe

Of craft to helpe himselve with,

Bot only that he was a Smith

With Jupiter, which in his forge

Diverse thinges made him forge;

So wot I noght for what desir

Thei clepen him the god of fyr.

King of Cizile Ypolitus

A Sone hadde, and Eolus

He hihte, and of his fader grant

970He hield be weie of covenant

The governance of every yle

Which was longende unto Cizile,

Of hem that fro the lond forein

Leie open to the wynd al plein.

And fro thilke iles to the londe

Fulofte cam the wynd to honde:

After the name of him forthi

The wyndes cleped Eoli

Tho were, and he the god of wynd.

980Lo nou, hou this believe is blynd!

The king of Crete Jupiter,

The same which I spak of er,

Unto his brother, which Neptune

Was hote, it list him to comune

Part of his good, so that be Schipe

He mad him strong of the lordschipe

Of al the See in tho parties;

Wher that he wroghte his tyrannyes,

And the strange yles al aboute

990He wan, that every man hath doute

Upon his marche forto saile;

For he anon hem wolde assaile

And robbe what thing that thei ladden,

His sauf conduit bot if thei hadden.

Wherof the comun vois aros

In every lond, that such a los

He cawhte, al nere it worth a stre,

That he was cleped of the See

The god be name, and yit he is

1000With hem that so believe amis.

This Neptune ek was thilke also,

Which was the ferste foundour tho

Of noble Troie, and he forthi

Was wel the more lete by.

The loresman of the Schepherdes,

And ek of hem that ben netherdes,

Was of Archade and hihte Pan:

Of whom hath spoke many a man;

For in the wode of Nonarcigne,

1010Enclosed with the tres of Pigne,

And on the Mont of Parasie

He hadde of bestes the baillie,

And ek benethe in the valleie,

Wher thilke rivere, as men seie,

Which Ladon hihte, made his cours,

He was the chief of governours

Of hem that kepten tame bestes,

Wherof thei maken yit the festes

In the Cite Stinfalides.

1020And forth withal yit natheles

He tawhte men the forthdrawinge

Of bestaile, and ek the makinge

Of Oxen, and of hors the same,

Hou men hem scholde ryde and tame:

Of foules ek, so as we finde,

Ful many a soubtiel craft of kinde

He fond, which noman knew tofore.

Men dede him worschipe ek therfore,

That he the ferste in thilke lond

1030Was which the melodie fond

Of Riedes, whan thei weren ripe,

With double pipes forto pipe;

Therof he yaf the ferste lore,

Til afterward men couthe more.

To every craft for mannes helpe

He hadde a redi wit to helpe

Thurgh naturel experience:

And thus the nyce reverence

Of foles, whan that he was ded,

1040The fot hath torned to the hed,

And clepen him god of nature,

For so thei maden his figure.

An other god, so as thei fiele,

Which Jupiter upon Samele

Begat in his avouterie,

Whom, forto hide his lecherie,

That non therof schal take kepe,

In a Montaigne forto kepe,

Which Dyon hihte and was in Ynde,

1050He sende, in bokes as I finde:

And he be name Bachus hihte,

Which afterward, whan that he mihte,

A wastour was, and al his rente

In wyn and bordel he despente.

Bot yit, al were he wonder badde,

Among the Greks a name he hadde;

Thei cleped him the god of wyn,

And thus a glotoun was dyvyn.

Ther was yit Esculapius

1060A godd in thilke time as thus.

His craft stod upon Surgerie,

Bot for the lust of lecherie,

That he to Daires dowhter drowh,

It felle that Jupiter him slowh:

And yit thei made him noght forthi

A god, and was no cause why.

In Rome he was long time also

A god among the Romeins tho;

For, as he seide, of his presence

1070Ther was destruid a pestilence,

Whan thei to thyle of Delphos wente,

And that Appollo with hem sente

This Esculapius his Sone,

Among the Romeins forto wone.

And there he duelte for a while,

Til afterward into that yle,

Fro whenne he cam, ayein he torneth,

Where al his lyf that he sojorneth

Among the Greks, til that he deide.

1080And thei upon him thanne leide

His name, and god of medicine

He hatte after that ilke line.

An other god of Hercules

Thei made, which was natheles

A man, bot that he was so strong,

In al this world that brod and long

So myhti was noman as he.

Merveiles tuelve in his degre,

As it was couth in sondri londes,

1090He dede with hise oghne hondes

Ayein geantz and Monstres bothe,

The whiche horrible were and lothe,

Bot he with strengthe hem overcam:

Wherof so gret a pris he nam,

That thei him clepe amonges alle

The god of strengthe, and to him calle.

And yit ther is no reson inne,

For he a man was full of sinne,

Which proved was upon his ende,

1100For in a rage himself he brende;

And such a cruel mannes dede

Acordeth nothing with godhede.

Thei hadde of goddes yit an other,

Which Pluto hihte, and was the brother

Of Jupiter, and he fro youthe

With every word which cam to mouthe,

Of eny thing whan he was wroth,

He wolde swere his commun oth,

Be Lethen and be Flegeton,

1110Be Cochitum and Acheron,

The whiche, after the bokes telle,

Ben the chief flodes of the helle:

Be Segne and Stige he swor also,

That ben the depe Pettes tuo

Of helle the most principal.

Pluto these othes overal

Swor of his commun custummance,

Til it befell upon a chance,

That he for Jupiteres sake

1120Unto the goddes let do make

A sacrifice, and for that dede

On of the pettes for his mede

In helle, of which I spak of er,

Was granted him; and thus he ther

Upon the fortune of this thing

The name tok of helle king.

Lo, these goddes and wel mo

Among the Greks thei hadden tho,

And of goddesses manyon,

1130Whos names thou schalt hiere anon,

And in what wise thei deceiven

The foles whiche here feith receiven.

So as Saturne is soverein

Of false goddes, as thei sein,

So is Sibeles of goddesses

The Moder, whom withoute gesses

The folk Payene honoure and serve,

As thei the whiche hire lawe observe.

Bot forto knowen upon this

1140Fro when sche cam and what sche is,

Bethincia the contre hihte,

Wher sche cam ferst to mannes sihte;

And after was Saturnes wif,

Be whom thre children in hire lif

Sche bar, and thei were cleped tho

Juno, Neptunus and Pluto,

The whiche of nyce fantasie

The poeple wolde deifie.

And for hire children were so,

1150Sibeles thanne was also

Mad a goddesse, and thei hire calle

The moder of the goddes alle.

So was that name bore forth,

And yit the cause is litel worth.

A vois unto Saturne tolde

Hou that his oghne Sone him scholde

Out of his regne putte aweie;

And he be cause of thilke weie,

That him was schape such a fate,

1160Sibele his wif began to hate

And ek hire progenie bothe.

And thus, whil that thei were wrothe,

Be Philerem upon a dai

In his avouterie he lai,

On whom he Jupiter begat;

And thilke child was after that

Which wroghte al that was prophecied,

As it tofore is specefied:

So that whan Jupiter of Crete

1170Was king, a wif unto him mete

The Dowhter of Sibele he tok,

And that was Juno, seith the bok.

Of his deificacion

After the false oppinion,

That have I told, so as thei meene;

And for this Juno was the queene

Of Jupiter and Soster eke,

The foles unto hire sieke,

And sein that sche is the goddesse

1180Of Regnes bothe and of richesse:

And ek sche, as thei understonde,

The water Nimphes hath in honde

To leden at hire oghne heste;

And whan hir list the Sky tempeste,

The reinbowe is hir Messager.

Lo, which a misbelieve is hier!

That sche goddesse is of the Sky

I wot non other cause why.

An other goddesse is Minerve,

1190To whom the Greks obeie and serve:

And sche was nyh the grete lay

Of Triton founde, wher sche lay

A child forcast, bot what sche was

Ther knew noman the sothe cas.

Bot in Aufrique sche was leid

In the manere as I have seid,

And caried fro that ilke place

Into an Yle fer in Trace,

The which Palene thanne hihte,

1200Wher a Norrice hir kepte and dihte.

And after, for sche was so wys

That sche fond ferst in hire avis

The cloth makinge of wolle and lyn,

Men seiden that sche was divin,

And the goddesse of Sapience

Thei clepen hire in that credence.

Of the goddesse which Pallas

Is cleped sondri speche was.

On seith hire fader was Pallant,

1210Which in his time was geant,

A cruel man, a bataillous:

An other seith hou in his hous

Sche was the cause why he deide.

And of this Pallas some ek seide

That sche was Martes wif; and so

Among the men that weren tho

Of misbelieve in the riote

The goddesse of batailles hote

She was, and yit sche berth the name.

1220Now loke, hou they be forto blame.

Saturnus after his exil

Fro Crete cam in gret peril

Into the londes of Ytaile,

And ther he dede gret mervaile,

Wherof his name duelleth yit.

For he fond of his oghne wit

The ferste craft of plowh tilinge,

Of Eringe and of corn sowinge,

And how men scholden sette vines

1230And of the grapes make wynes;

Al this he tawhte, and it fell so,

His wif, the which cam with him tho,

Was cleped Cereres be name,

And for sche tawhte also the same,

And was his wif that ilke throwe,

As it was to the poeple knowe,

Thei made of Ceres a goddesse,

In whom here tilthe yit thei blesse,

And sein that Tricolonius

1240Hire Sone goth amonges ous

And makth the corn good chep or dere,

Riht as hire list fro yer to yeere;

So that this wif be cause of this

Goddesse of Cornes cleped is.

King Jupiter, which his likinge

Whilom fulfelde in alle thinge,

So priveliche aboute he ladde

His lust, that he his wille hadde

Of Latona, and on hire that

1250Diane his dowhter he begat

Unknowen of his wif Juno.

And afterward sche knew it so,

That Latona for drede fledde

Into an Ile, wher sche hedde

Hire wombe, which of childe aros.

Thilke yle cleped was Delos;

In which Diana was forthbroght,

And kept so that hire lacketh noght.

And after, whan sche was of Age,

1260Sche tok non hiede of mariage,

Bot out of mannes compaignie

Sche tok hire al to venerie

In forest and in wildernesse

For ther was al hire besinesse

Be daie and ek be nyhtes tyde

With arwes brode under the side

And bowe in honde, of which sche slowh

And tok al that hir liste ynowh

Of bestes whiche ben chacable:

1270Wherof the Cronique of this fable

Seith that the gentils most of alle

Worschipen hire and to hire calle,

And the goddesse of hihe helles,

Of grene trees, of freisshe welles,

They clepen hire in that believe,

Which that no reson mai achieve.

Proserpina, which dowhter was

Of Cereres, befell this cas:

Whil sche was duellinge in Cizile,

1280Hire moder in that ilke while

Upon hire blessinge and hire heste

Bad that sche scholde ben honeste,

And lerne forto weve and spinne,

And duelle at hom and kepe hire inne.

Bot sche caste al that lore aweie,

And as sche wente hir out to pleie,

To gadre floures in a pleine,

And that was under the monteine

Of Ethna, fell the same tyde

1290That Pluto cam that weie ryde,

And sodeinly, er sche was war,

He tok hire up into his char.

And as thei riden in the field,

Hire grete beaute he behield,

Which was so plesant in his ije,

That forto holde in compainie

He weddeth hire and hield hire so

To ben his wif for everemo.

And as thou hast tofore herd telle

1300Hou he was cleped god of helle,

So is sche cleped the goddesse

Be cause of him, ne mor ne lesse.

Lo, thus, mi Sone, as I thee tolde,

The Greks whilom be daies olde

Here goddes hadde in sondri wise,

And thurgh the lore of here aprise

The Romeins hielden ek the same.

And in the worschipe of here name

To every godd in special

1310Thei made a temple forth withal,

And ech of hem his yeeres dai

Attitled hadde; and of arai

The temples weren thanne ordeigned,

And ek the poeple was constreigned

To come and don here sacrifice;

The Prestes ek in here office

Solempne maden thilke festes.

And thus the Greks lich to the bestes

The men in stede of god honoure,

1320Whiche mihten noght hemself socoure,

Whil that thei were alyve hiere.

And over this, as thou schalt hiere,

The Greks fulfild of fantasie

Sein ek that of the helles hihe

The goddes ben in special,

Bot of here name in general

Thei hoten alle Satiri.

Ther ben of Nimphes proprely

In the believe of hem also:

1330Oreades thei seiden tho

Attitled ben to the monteines;

And for the wodes in demeynes

To kepe, tho ben Driades;

Of freisshe welles Naiades;

And of the Nimphes of the See

I finde a tale in proprete,

Hou Dorus whilom king of Grece,

Which hadde of infortune a piece,-

His wif forth with hire dowhtres alle,

1340So as the happes scholden falle,

With many a gentil womman there

Dreint in the salte See thei were:

Wherof the Greks that time seiden,

And such a name upon hem leiden,

Nerei5des that thei ben hote,

The Nimphes whiche that thei note

To regne upon the stremes salte.

Lo now, if this believe halte!

Bot of the Nimphes as thei telle,

1350In every place wher thei duelle

Thei ben al redi obeissant

As damoiselles entendant

To the goddesses, whos servise

Thei mote obeie in alle wise;

Wherof the Greks to hem beseke

With tho that ben goddesses eke,

And have in hem a gret credence.

And yit withoute experience

Salve only of illusion,

1360Which was to hem dampnacion,

For men also that were dede

Thei hadden goddes, as I rede,

And tho be name Manes hihten,

To whom ful gret honour thei dihten,

So as the Grekes lawe seith,

Which was ayein the rihte feith.

Thus have I told a gret partie;

Bot al the hole progenie

Of goddes in that ilke time

1370To long it were forto rime.

Bot yit of that which thou hast herd,

Of misbelieve hou it hath ferd,

Ther is a gret diversite.

Mi fader, riht so thenketh me.

Bot yit o thing I you beseche,

Which stant in alle mennes speche,

The godd and the goddesse of love,

Of whom ye nothing hier above

Have told, ne spoken of her fare,

1380That ye me wolden now declare

Hou thei ferst comen to that name.

Mi Sone, I have it left for schame,

Be cause I am here oghne Prest;

Bot for thei stonden nyh thi brest

Upon the schrifte of thi matiere,

Thou schalt of hem the sothe hiere:

And understond nou wel the cas.

Venus Saturnes dowhter was,

Which alle danger putte aweie

1390Of love, and fond to lust a weie;

So that of hire in sondri place

Diverse men felle into grace,

And such a lusti lif sche ladde,

That sche diverse children hadde,

Nou on be this, nou on be that.

Of hire it was that Mars beyat

A child, which cleped was Armene;

Of hire also cam Andragene,

To whom Mercurie fader was:

1400Anchises begat Eneas

Of hire also, and Ericon

Biten begat, and therupon,

Whan that sche sih ther was non other,

Be Jupiter hire oghne brother

Sche lay, and he begat Cupide.

And thilke Sone upon a tyde,

Whan he was come unto his Age,

He hadde a wonder fair visage,

And fond his Moder amourous,

1410And he was also lecherous:

So whan thei weren bothe al one,

As he which yhen hadde none

To se reson, his Moder kiste;

And sche also, that nothing wiste

Bot that which unto lust belongeth,

To ben hire love him underfongeth.

Thus was he blind, and sche unwys:

Bot natheles this cause it is,

Why Cupide is the god of love,

1420For he his moder dorste love.

And sche, which thoghte hire lustes fonde,

Diverse loves tok in honde,

Wel mo thanne I the tolde hiere:

And for sche wolde hirselve skiere,

Sche made comun that desport,

And sette a lawe of such a port,

That every womman mihte take

What man hire liste, and noght forsake

To ben als comun as sche wolde.

1430Sche was the ferste also which tolde

That wommen scholde here bodi selle;

Semiramis, so as men telle,

Of Venus kepte thilke aprise,

And so dede in the same wise

Of Rome faire Neabole,

Which liste hire bodi to rigole;

Sche was to every man felawe,

And hild the lust of thilke lawe,

Which Venus of hirself began;

1440Wherof that sche the name wan,

Why men hire clepen the goddesse

Of love and ek of gentilesse,

Of worldes lust and of plesance.

Se nou the foule mescreance

Of Greks in thilke time tho,

Whan Venus tok hire name so.

Ther was no cause under the Mone

Of which thei hadden tho to done,

Of wel or wo wher so it was,

1450That thei ne token in that cas

A god to helpe or a goddesse.

Wherof, to take mi witnesse,

The king of Bragmans Dindimus

Wrot unto Alisandre thus:

In blaminge of the Grekes feith

And of the misbelieve, he seith

How thei for every membre hadden

A sondri god, to whom thei spradden

Here armes, and of help besoghten.

1460Minerve for the hed thei soghten,

For sche was wys, and of a man

The wit and reson which he can

Is in the celles of the brayn,

Wherof thei made hire soverain.

Mercurie, which was in his dawes

A gret spekere of false lawes,

On him the kepinge of the tunge

Thei leide, whan thei spieke or sunge.

For Bachus was a glotoun eke,

1470Him for the throte thei beseke,

That he it wolde waisshen ofte

With swote drinkes and with softe.

The god of schuldres and of armes

Was Hercules; for he in armes

The myhtieste was to fihte,

To him tho Limes they behihte.

The god whom that thei clepen Mart

The brest to kepe hath for his part,

Forth with the herte, in his ymage

1480That he adresce the corage.

And of the galle the goddesse,

For sche was full of hastifesse

Of wraththe and liht to grieve also,

Thei made and seide it was Juno.

Cupide, which the brond afyre

Bar in his hond, he was the Sire

Of the Stomak, which builleth evere,

Wherof the lustes ben the levere.

To the goddesse Cereres,

1490Which of the corn yaf hire encress

Upon the feith that tho was take,

The wombes cure was betake;

And Venus thurgh the Lecherie,

For which that thei hire deifie,

Sche kept al doun the remenant

To thilke office appourtenant.

Thus was dispers in sondri wise

The misbelieve, as I devise,

With many an ymage of entaile,

1500Of suche as myhte hem noght availe;

For thei withoute lyves chiere

Unmyhti ben to se or hiere

Or speke or do or elles fiele;

And yit the foles to hem knele,

Which is here oghne handes werk.

Ha lord, hou this believe is derk,

And fer fro resonable wit!

And natheles thei don it yit:

That was to day a ragged tre,

1510To morwe upon his majeste

Stant in the temple wel besein.

How myhte a mannes resoun sein

That such a Stock mai helpe or grieve?

Bot thei that ben of such believe

And unto suche goddes calle,

It schal to hem riht so befalle,

And failen ate moste nede.

Bot if thee list to taken hiede

And of the ferste ymage wite,

1520Petornius therof hath write

And ek Nigargorus also;

And thei afferme and write so,

That Promothes was tofore

And fond the ferste craft therfore,

And Cirophanes, as thei telle,

Thurgh conseil which was take in helle,

In remembrance of his lignage

Let setten up the ferste ymage.

Of Cirophanes seith the bok,

1530That he for sorwe, which he tok

Of that he sih his Sone ded,

Of confort knew non other red,

Bot let do make in remembrance

A faire ymage of his semblance

And sette it in the market place,

Which openly tofore his face

Stod every dai to don him ese.

And thei that thanne wolden plese

The fader, scholden it obeie,

1540Whan that they comen thilke weie.

And of Ninus king of Assire

I rede hou that in his empire

He was next after the secounde

Of hem that ferst ymages founde.

For he riht in semblable cas

Of Belus, which his fader was

Fro Nembroth in the rihte line,

Let make of gold and Stones fine

A precious ymage riche

1550After his fader evene liche;

And therupon a lawe he sette,

That every man of pure dette

With sacrifice and with truage

Honoure scholde thilke ymage:

So that withinne time it fell,

Of Belus cam the name of Bel,

Of Bel cam Belzebub, and so

The misbelieve wente tho.

The thridde ymage next to this

1560Was, whan the king of Grece Apis

Was ded, thei maden a figure

In resemblance of his stature.

Of this king Apis seith the bok

That Serapis his name tok,

In whom thurgh long continuance

Of misbelieve a gret creance

Thei hadden, and the reverence

Of Sacrifice and of encence

To him thei made: and as thei telle,

1570Among the wondres that befelle,

Whan Alisandre fro Candace

Cam ridende, in a wilde place

Undur an hull a Cave he fond;

And Candalus, which in that lond

Was bore, and was Candaces Sone,

Him tolde hou that of commun wone

The goddes were in thilke cave.

And he, that wolde assaie and have

A knowlechinge if it be soth,

1580Liht of his hors and in he goth,

And fond therinne that he soghte:

For thurgh the fendes sleihte him thoghte,

Amonges othre goddes mo

That Serapis spak to him tho,

Whom he sih there in gret arrai.

And thus the fend fro dai to dai

The worschipe of ydolatrie

Drowh forth upon the fantasie

Of hem that weren thanne blinde

1590And couthen noght the trouthe finde.

Thus hast thou herd in what degre

Of Grece, Egipte and of Caldee

The misbelieves whilom stode;

And hou so that thei be noght goode

Ne trewe, yit thei sprungen oute,

Wherof the wyde world aboute

His part of misbelieve tok.

Til so befell, as seith the bok,

That god a poeple for himselve

1600Hath chose of the lignages tuelve,

Wherof the sothe redely,

As it is write in Genesi,

I thenke telle in such a wise

That it schal be to thin apprise.

After the flod, fro which Noe5

Was sauf, the world in his degre

Was mad, as who seith, newe ayein,

Of flour, of fruit, of gras, of grein,

Of beste, of bridd and of mankinde,

1610Which evere hath be to god unkinde:

For noght withstondende al the fare,

Of that this world was mad so bare

And afterward it was restored,

Among the men was nothing mored

Towardes god of good lyvynge,

Bot al was torned to likinge

After the fleissh, so that foryete

Was he which yaf hem lif and mete,

Of hevene and Erthe creatour.

1620And thus cam forth the grete errour,

That thei the hihe god ne knewe,

Bot maden othre goddes newe,

As thou hast herd me seid tofore:

Ther was noman that time bore,

That he ne hadde after his chois

A god, to whom he yaf his vois.

Wherof the misbelieve cam

Into the time of Habraham:

Bot he fond out the rihte weie,

1630Hou only that men scholde obeie

The hihe god, which weldeth al,

And evere hath don and evere schal,

In hevene, in Erthe and ek in helle;

Ther is no tunge his miht mai telle.

This Patriarch to his lignage

Forbad, that thei to non ymage

Encline scholde in none wise,

Bot here offrende and sacrifise

With al the hole hertes love

1640Unto the mihti god above

Thei scholden yive and to no mo:

And thus in thilke time tho

Began the Secte upon this Erthe,

Which of believes was the ferthe.

Of rihtwisnesse it was conceived,

So moste it nedes be received

Of him that alle riht is inne,

The hihe god, which wolde winne

A poeple unto his oghne feith.

1650On Habraham the ground he leith,

And made him forto multeplie

Into so gret a progenie,

That thei Egipte al overspradde.

Bot Pharao with wrong hem ladde

In servitute ayein the pes,

Til god let sende Moi5ses

To make the deliverance;

And for his poeple gret vengance

He tok, which is to hiere a wonder.

1660The king was slain, the lond put under,

God bad the rede See divide,

Which stod upriht on either side

And yaf unto his poeple a weie,

That thei on fote it passe dreie

And gon so forth into desert:

Wher forto kepe hem in covert,

The daies, whan the Sonne brente,

A large cloude hem overwente,

And forto wissen hem be nyhte,

1670A firy Piler hem alyhte.

And whan that thei for hunger pleigne,

The myhti god began to reyne

Manna fro hevene doun to grounde,

Wherof that ech of hem hath founde

His fode, such riht as him liste;

And for thei scholde upon him triste,

Riht as who sette a tonne abroche,

He percede the harde roche,

And sprong out water al at wille,

1680That man and beste hath drunke his fille:

And afterward he yaf the lawe

To Moi5ses, that hem withdrawe

Thei scholden noght fro that he bad.

And in this wise thei be lad,

Til thei toke in possession

The londes of promission,

Wher that Caleph and Josue5

The Marches upon such degre

Departen, after the lignage

1690That ech of hem as Heritage

His porpartie hath underfonge.

And thus stod this believe longe,

Which of prophetes was governed;

And thei hadde ek the poeple lerned

Of gret honour that scholde hem falle;

Bot ate moste nede of alle

Thei faileden, whan Crist was bore.

Bot hou that thei here feith have bore,

It nedeth noght to tellen al,

1700The matiere is so general:

Whan Lucifer was best in hevene

And oghte moste have stonde in evene,

Towardes god he tok debat;

And for that he was obstinat,

And wolde noght to trouthe encline,

He fell for evere into ruine:

And Adam ek in Paradis,

Whan he stod most in al his pris

After thastat of Innocence,

1710Ayein the god brak his defence

And fell out of his place aweie:

And riht be such a maner weie

The Jwes in here beste plit,

Whan that thei scholden most parfit

Have stonde upon the prophecie,

Tho fellen thei to most folie,

And him which was fro hevene come,

And of a Maide his fleissh hath nome,

And was among hem bore and fedd,

1720As men that wolden noght be spedd

Of goddes Sone, with o vois

Thei hinge and slowhe upon the crois.

Wherof the parfit of here lawe

Fro thanne forth hem was withdrawe,

So that thei stonde of no merit,

Bot in truage as folk soubgit

Withoute proprete of place

Thei liven out of goddes grace,

Dispers in alle londes oute.

1730And thus the feith is come aboute,

That whilom in the Jewes stod,

Which is noght parfihtliche good.

To speke as it is nou befalle,

Ther is a feith aboven alle,

In which the trouthe is comprehended,

Wherof that we ben alle amended.

The hihe almyhti majeste,

Of rihtwisnesse and of pite,

The Sinne which that Adam wroghte,

1740Whan he sih time, ayein he boghte,

And sende his Sone fro the hevene

To sette mannes Soule in evene,

Which thanne was so sore falle

Upon the point which was befalle,

That he ne mihte himself arise.

Gregoire seith in his aprise,

It helpeth noght a man be bore,

If goddes Sone were unbore;

For thanne thurgh the ferste Sinne,

1750Which Adam whilom broghte ous inne,

Ther scholden alle men be lost;

Bot Crist restoreth thilke lost,

And boghte it with his fleissh and blod.

And if we thenken hou it stod

Of thilke rancoun which he payde,

As seint Gregoire it wrot and sayde,

Al was behovely to the man:

For that wherof his wo began

Was after cause of al his welthe,

1760Whan he which is the welle of helthe,

The hihe creatour of lif,

Upon the nede of such a strif

So wolde for his creature

Take on himself the forsfaiture

And soffre for the mannes sake.

Thus mai no reson wel forsake

That thilke Senne original

Ne was the cause in special

Of mannes worschipe ate laste,

1770Which schal withouten ende laste.

For be that cause the godhede

Assembled was to the manhede

In the virgine, where he nom

Oure fleissh and verai man becom

Of bodely fraternite;

Wherof the man in his degre

Stant more worth, as I have told,

Than he stod erst be manyfold,

Thurgh baptesme of the newe lawe,

1780Of which Crist lord is and felawe.

And thus the hihe goddes myht,

Which was in the virgine alyht,

The mannes Soule hath reconsiled,

Which hadde longe ben exiled.

So stant the feith upon believe,

Withoute which mai non achieve

To gete him Paradis ayein:

Bot this believe is so certein,

So full of grace and of vertu,

1790That what man clepeth to Jhesu

In clene lif forthwith good dede,

He mai noght faile of hevene mede,

Which taken hath the rihte feith;

For elles, as the gospel seith,

Salvacion ther mai be non.

And forto preche therupon

Crist bad to hise Apostles alle,

The whos pouer as nou is falle

On ous that ben of holi cherche,

1800If we the goode dedes werche;

For feith only sufficeth noght,

Bot if good dede also be wroght.

Now were it good that thou forthi,

Which thurgh baptesme proprely

Art unto Cristes feith professed,

Be war that thou be noght oppressed

With Anticristes lollardie.

For as the Jwes prophecie

Was set of god for avantage,

1810Riht so this newe tapinage

Of lollardie goth aboute

To sette Cristes feith in doute.

The seintz that weren ous tofore,

Be whom the feith was ferst upbore,

That holi cherche stod relieved,

Thei oghten betre be believed

Than these, whiche that men knowe

Noght holy, thogh thei feigne and blowe

Here lollardie in mennes Ere.

1820Bot if thou wolt live out of fere,

Such newe lore, I rede, eschuie,

And hold forth riht the weie and suie,

As thine Ancestres dede er this:

So schalt thou noght believe amis.

Crist wroghte ferst and after tawhte,

So that the dede his word arawhte;

He yaf ensample in his persone,

And we the wordes have al one,

Lich to the Tree with leves grene,

1830Upon the which no fruit is sene.

The Priest Thoas, which of Minerve

The temple hadde forto serve,

And the Palladion of Troie

Kepte under keie, for monoie,

Of Anthenor which he hath nome,

Hath soffred Anthenor to come

And the Palladion to stele,

Wherof the worschipe and the wele

Of the Troiens was overthrowe.

1840Bot Thoas at the same throwe,

Whan Anthenor this Juel tok,

Wynkende caste awei his lok

For a deceipte and for a wyle:

As he that scholde himself beguile,

He hidde his yhen fro the sihte,

And wende wel that he so mihte

Excuse his false conscience.

I wot noght if thilke evidence

Nou at this time in here estatz

1850Excuse mihte the Prelatz,

Knowende hou that the feith discresceth

And alle moral vertu cesseth,

Wherof that thei the keies bere,

Bot yit hem liketh noght to stere

Here gostliche yhe forto se

The world in his adversite;

Thei wol no labour undertake

To kepe that hem is betake.

Crist deide himselve for the feith,

1860Bot nou our feerfull prelat seith,

“The lif is suete,” and that he kepeth,

So that the feith unholpe slepeth,

And thei unto here ese entenden

And in here lust her lif despenden,

And every man do what him list.

Thus stant this world fulfild of Mist,

That noman seth the rihte weie:

The wardes of the cherche keie

Thurgh mishandlinge ben myswreynt,

1870The worldes wawe hath welnyh dreynt

The Schip which Peter hath to stiere,

The forme is kept, bot the matiere

Transformed is in other wise.

Bot if thei weren gostli wise,

And that the Prelatz weren goode,

As thei be olde daies stode,

It were thanne litel nede

Among the men to taken hiede

Of that thei hieren Pseudo telle,

1880Which nou is come forto duelle,

To sowe cokkel with the corn,

So that the tilthe is nyh forlorn,

Which Crist sew ferst his oghne hond.

Nou stant the cockel in the lond,

Wher stod whilom the goode grein,

For the Prelatz nou, as men sein,

Forslowthen that thei scholden tile.

And that I trowe be the skile,

Whan ther is lacke in hem above,

1890The poeple is stranged to the love

Of trouthe, in cause of ignorance;

For wher ther is no pourveance

Of liht, men erren in the derke.

Bot if the Prelatz wolden werke

Upon the feith which thei ous teche,

Men scholden noght here weie seche

Withoute liht, as now is used:

Men se the charge aldai refused,

Which holi cherche hath undertake.

1900Bot who that wolde ensample take,

Gregoire upon his Omelie

Ayein the Slouthe of Prelacie

Compleigneth him, and thus he seith:

“Whan Peter, fader of the feith,

At domesdai schal with him bringe

Judeam, which thurgh his prechinge

He wan, and Andrew with Achaie

Schal come his dette forto paie,

And Thomas ek with his beyete

1910Of Ynde, and Poul the routes grete

Of sondri londes schal presente,

And we fulfild of lond and rente,

Which of this world we holden hiere,

With voide handes schul appiere,

Touchende oure cure spirital,

Which is our charge in special,

I not what thing it mai amonte

Upon thilke ende of oure accompte,

Wher Crist himself is Auditour,

1920Which takth non hiede of vein honour.”

Thoffice of the Chancellerie

Or of the kinges Tresorie

Ne for the writ ne for the taille

To warant mai noght thanne availe;

The world, which nou so wel we trowe,

Schal make ous thanne bot a mowe:

So passe we withoute mede,

That we non otherwise spede,

Bot as we rede that he spedde,

1930The which his lordes besant hedde

And therupon gat non encress.

Bot at this time natheles,

What other man his thonk deserve,

The world so lusti is to serve,

That we with him ben all acorded,

And that is wist and wel recorded

Thurghout this Erthe in alle londes

Let knyhtes winne with here hondes,

For oure tunge schal be stille

1940And stonde upon the fleisshes wille.

It were a travail forto preche

The feith of Crist, as forto teche

The folk Paiene, it wol noght be;

Bot every Prelat holde his See

With al such ese as he mai gete

Of lusti drinke and lusti mete,

Wherof the bodi fat and full

Is unto gostli labour dull

And slowh to handle thilke plowh.

1950Bot elles we ben swifte ynowh

Toward the worldes Avarice;

And that is as a sacrifice,

Which, after that thapostel seith,

Is openly ayein the feith

Unto thidoles yove and granted:

Bot natheles it is nou haunted,

And vertu changed into vice,

So that largesce is Avarice,

In whos chapitre now we trete.

1960Mi fader, this matiere is bete

So fer, that evere whil I live

I schal the betre hede yive

Unto miself be many weie:

Bot over this nou wolde I preie

To wite what the branches are

Of Avarice, and hou thei fare

Als wel in love as otherwise.

Mi Sone, and I thee schal devise

In such a manere as thei stonde,

1970So that thou schalt hem understonde.

Dame Avarice is noght soleine,

Which is of gold the Capiteine;

Bot of hir Court in sondri wise

After the Scole of hire aprise

Sche hath of Servantz manyon,

Wherof that Covoitise is on;

Which goth the large world aboute,

To seche thavantages oute,

Wher that he mai the profit winne

1980To Avarice, and bringth it inne.

That on hald and that other draweth,

Ther is no day which hem bedaweth,

No mor the Sonne than the Mone,

Whan ther is eny thing to done,

And namely with Covoitise;

For he stant out of al assisse

Of resonable mannes fare.

Wher he pourposeth him to fare

Upon his lucre and his beyete,

1990The smale path, the large Strete,

The furlong and the longe Mile,

Al is bot on for thilke while:

And for that he is such on holde,

Dame Avarice him hath withholde,

As he which is the principal

Outward, for he is overal

A pourveour and an aspie.

For riht as of an hungri Pie

The storve bestes ben awaited,

2000Riht so is Covoitise afaited

To loke where he mai pourchace,

For be his wille he wolde embrace

Al that this wyde world beclippeth;

Bot evere he somwhat overhippeth,

That he ne mai noght al fulfille

The lustes of his gredi wille.

Bot where it falleth in a lond,

That Covoitise in myhti hond

Is set, it is ful hard to fiede;

2010For thanne he takth non other hiede,

Bot that he mai pourchace and gete,

His conscience hath al foryete,

And not what thing it mai amonte

That he schal afterward acompte.

Bote as the Luce in his degre

Of tho that lasse ben than he

The fisshes griedeli devoureth,

So that no water hem socoureth,

Riht so no lawe mai rescowe

2020Fro him that wol no riht allowe;

For wher that such on is of myht,

His will schal stonde in stede of riht.

Thus be the men destruid fulofte,

Til that the grete god alofte

Ayein so gret a covoitise

Redresce it in his oghne wise:

And in ensample of alle tho

I finde a tale write so,

The which, for it is good to liere,

2030Hierafterward thou schalt it hiere.

Whan Rome stod in noble plit,

Virgile, which was tho parfit,

A Mirour made of his clergie

And sette it in the tounes ije

Of marbre on a piler withoute;

That thei be thritty Mile aboute

Be daie and ek also be nyhte

In that Mirour beholde myhte

Here enemys, if eny were,

2040With al here ordinance there,

Which thei ayein the Cite caste:

So that, whil thilke Mirour laste,

Ther was no lond which mihte achieve

With werre Rome forto grieve;

Wherof was gret envie tho.

And fell that ilke time so,

That Rome hadde werres stronge

Ayein Cartage, and stoden longe

The tuo Cites upon debat.

2050Cartage sih the stronge astat

Of Rome in thilke Mirour stonde,

And thoghte al prively to fonde

To overthrowe it be som wyle.

And Hanybal was thilke while

The Prince and ledere of Cartage,

Which hadde set al his corage

Upon knihthod in such a wise,

That he be worthi and be wise

And be non othre was conseiled,

2060Wherof the world is yit merveiled

Of the maistries that he wroghte

Upon the marches whiche he soghte.

And fell in thilke time also,

The king of Puile, which was tho,

Thoghte ayein Rome to rebelle,

And thus was take the querele,

Hou to destruie this Mirour.

Of Rome tho was Emperour

Crassus, which was so coveitous,

2070That he was evere desirous

Of gold to gete the pilage;

Wherof that Puile and ek Cartage

With Philosophres wise and grete

Begunne of this matiere trete,

And ate laste in this degre

Ther weren Philosophres thre,

To do this thing whiche undertoke,

And therupon thei with hem toke

A gret tresor of gold in cophres,

2080To Rome and thus these philisophres

Togedre in compainie wente,

Bot noman wiste what thei mente.

Whan thei to Rome come were,

So prively thei duelte there,

As thei that thoghten to deceive:

Was non that mihte of hem perceive,

Til thei in sondri stedes have

Here gold under the ground begrave

In tuo tresors, that to beholde

2090Thei scholden seme as thei were olde.

And so forth thanne upon a day

Al openly in good arai

To themperour thei hem presente,

And tolden it was here entente

To duellen under his servise.

And he hem axeth in what wise;

And thei him tolde in such a plit,

That ech of hem hadde a spirit,

The which slepende a nyht appiereth

2100And hem be sondri dremes lereth

After the world that hath betid.

Under the ground if oght be hid

Of old tresor at eny throwe,

They schull it in here swevenes knowe;

And upon this condicioun,

Thei sein, what gold under the toun

Of Rome is hid, thei wole it finde,

Ther scholde noght be left behinde,

Be so that he the halvendel

2110Hem grante, and he assenteth wel;

And thus cam sleighte forto duelle

With Covoitise, as I thee telle.

This Emperour bad redily

That thei be logged faste by

Where he his oghne body lay;

And whan it was amorwe day,

That on of hem seith that he mette

Wher he a goldhord scholde fette:

Wherof this Emperour was glad,

2120And therupon anon he bad

His Mynours forto go and myne,

And he himself of that covine

Goth forth withal, and at his hond

The tresor redi there he fond,

Where as thei seide it scholde be;

And who was thanne glad bot he?

Upon that other dai secounde

Thei have an other goldhord founde,

Which the seconde maister tok

2130Upon his swevene and undertok.

And thus the sothe experience

To themperour yaf such credence,

That al his trist and al his feith

So sikerliche on hem he leith,

Of that he fond him so relieved,

That thei ben parfitli believed,

As thogh thei were goddes thre.

Nou herkne the soutilete.

The thridde maister scholde mete,

2140Which, as thei seiden, was unmete

Above hem alle, and couthe most;

And he withoute noise or bost

Al priveli, so as he wolde,

Upon the morwe his swevene tolde

To themperour riht in his Ere,

And seide him that he wiste where

A tresor was so plentivous

Of gold and ek so precious

Of jeueals and of riche stones,

2150That unto alle hise hors at ones

It were a charge sufficant.

This lord upon this covenant

Was glad, and axeth where it was.

The maister seide, under the glas,

And tolde him eke, as for the Myn

He wolde ordeigne such engin,

That thei the werk schull undersette

With Tymber, that withoute lette

Men mai the tresor saufli delve,

2160So that the Mirour be himselve

Withoute empeirement schal stonde:

And this the maister upon honde

Hath undertake in alle weie.

This lord, which hadde his wit aweie

And was with Covoitise blent,

Anon therto yaf his assent;

And thus they myne forth withal,

The timber set up overal,

Wherof the Piler stod upriht;

2170Til it befell upon a nyht

These clerkes, whan thei were war

Hou that the timber only bar

The Piler, wher the Mirour stod,-

Here sleihte noman understod,-

Thei go be nyhte unto the Myne

With pich, with soulphre and with rosine,

And whan the Cite was a slepe,

A wylde fyr into the depe

They caste among the timberwerk,

2180And so forth, whil the nyht was derk,

Desguised in a povere arai

Thei passeden the toun er dai.

And whan thei come upon an hell,

Thei sihen how the Mirour fell,

Wherof thei maden joie ynowh,

And ech of hem with other lowh,

And seiden, “Lo, what coveitise

Mai do with hem that be noght wise!”

And that was proved afterward,

2190For every lond, to Romeward

Which hadde be soubgit tofore,

Whan this Mirour was so forlore

And thei the wonder herde seie,

Anon begunne desobeie

With werres upon every side;

And thus hath Rome lost his pride

And was defouled overal.

For this I finde of Hanybal,

That he of Romeins in a dai,

2200Whan he hem fond out of arai,

So gret a multitude slowh,

That of goldringes, whiche he drowh

Of gentil handes that ben dede,

Buisshelles fulle thre, I rede,

He felde, and made a bregge also,

That he mihte over Tibre go

Upon the corps that dede were

Of the Romeins, whiche he slowh there.

Bot now to speke of the juise,

2210The which after the covoitise

Was take upon this Emperour,

For he destruide the Mirour;

It is a wonder forto hiere.

The Romeins maden a chaiere

And sette here Emperour therinne,

And seiden, for he wolde winne

Of gold the superfluite,

Of gold he scholde such plente

Receive, til he seide Ho:

2220And with gold, which thei hadden tho

Buillende hot withinne a panne,

Into his Mouth thei poure thanne.

And thus the thurst of gold was queynt,

With gold which hadde ben atteignt.

Wherof, mi Sone, thou miht hiere,

Whan Covoitise hath lost the stiere

Of resonable governance,

Ther falleth ofte gret vengance.

For ther mai be no worse thing

2230Than Covoitise aboute a king:

If it in his persone be,

It doth the more adversite;

And if it in his conseil stonde,

It bringth alday meschief to honde

Of commun harm; and if it growe

Withinne his court, it wol be knowe,

For thanne schal the king be piled.

The man which hath hise londes tiled,

Awaiteth noght more redily

2240The Hervest, than thei gredily

Ne maken thanne warde and wacche,

Wher thei the profit mihten cacche:

And yit fulofte it falleth so,

As men mai sen among hem tho,

That he which most coveiteth faste

Hath lest avantage ate laste.

For whan fortune is therayein,

Thogh he coveite, it is in vein;

The happes be noght alle liche,

2250On is mad povere, an other riche,

The court to some doth profit,

And some ben evere in o plit;

And yit thei bothe aliche sore

Coveite, bot fortune is more

Unto that o part favorable.

And thogh it be noght resonable,

This thing a man mai sen alday,

Wherof that I thee telle may

A fair ensample in remembrance,

2260Hou every man mot take his chance

Or of richesse or of poverte.

Hou so it stonde of the decerte,

Hier is noght every thing aquit,

For ofte a man mai se this yit,

That who best doth, lest thonk schal have;

It helpeth noght the world to crave,

Which out of reule and of mesure

Hath evere stonde in aventure

Als wel in Court as elles where:

2270And hou in olde daies there

It stod, so as the thinges felle,

I thenke a tale forto telle.

In a Cronique this I rede.

Aboute a king, as moste nede,

Ther was of knyhtes and squiers

Gret route, and ek of Officers:

Some of long time him hadden served,

And thoghten that thei have deserved

Avancement, and gon withoute;

2280And some also ben of the route

That comen bot a while agon,

And thei avanced were anon.

These olde men upon this thing,

So as thei dorste, ayein the king

Among hemself compleignen ofte:

Bot ther is nothing seid so softe,

That it ne comth out ate laste;

The king it wiste, and als so faste,

As he which was of hih Prudence,

2290He schop therfore an evidence

Of hem that pleignen in that cas,

To knowe in whos defalte it was.

And al withinne his oghne entente,

That noman wiste what it mente,

Anon he let tuo cofres make

Of o semblance and of o make,

So lich that no lif thilke throwe

That on mai fro that other knowe:

Thei were into his chambre broght,

2300Bot noman wot why thei be wroght,

And natheles the king hath bede

That thei be set in prive stede.

As he that was of wisdom slih,

Whan he therto his time sih,

Al prively, that non it wiste,

Hise oghne hondes that o kiste

Of fin gold and of fin perrie,

The which out of his tresorie

Was take, anon he felde full;

2310That other cofre of straw and mull

With Stones meind he felde also.

Thus be thei fulle bothe tuo,

So that erliche upon a day

He bad withinne, ther he lay,

Ther scholde be tofore his bed

A bord upset and faire spred;

And thanne he let the cofres fette,

Upon the bord and dede hem sette.

He knew the names wel of tho,

2320The whiche ayein him grucche so,

Bothe of his chambre and of his halle,

Anon and sende for hem alle,

And seide to hem in this wise:

“Ther schal noman his happ despise;

I wot wel ye have longe served,

And god wot what ye have deserved:

Bot if it is along on me

Of that ye unavanced be,

Or elles it be long on you,

2330The sothe schal be proved nou,

To stoppe with youre evele word.

Lo hier tuo cofres on the bord:

Ches which you list of bothe tuo;

And witeth wel that on of tho

Is with tresor so full begon,

That if ye happe therupon,

Ye schull be riche men for evere.

Now ches and tak which you is levere:

Bot be wel war, er that ye take;

2340For of that on I undertake

Ther is no maner good therinne,

Wherof ye mihten profit winne.

Now goth togedre of on assent

And taketh youre avisement,

For bot I you this dai avance,

It stant upon youre oghne chance

Al only in defalte of grace:

So schal be schewed in this place

Upon you alle wel afyn,

2350That no defalte schal be myn.”

Thei knelen alle and with o vois

The king thei thonken of this chois:

And after that thei up arise,

And gon aside and hem avise,

And ate laste thei acorde;

Wherof her tale to recorde,

To what issue thei be falle,

A kniht schal speke for hem alle.

He kneleth doun unto the king,

2360And seith that thei upon this thing,

Or forto winne or forto lese,

Ben alle avised forto chese.

Tho tok this kniht a yerde on honde,

And goth there as the cofres stonde,

And with assent of everichon

He leith his yerde upon that on,

And seith the king hou thilke same

Thei chese in reguerdoun be name,

And preith him that thei mote it have.

2370The king, which wolde his honour save,

Whan he hath herd the commun vois,

Hath granted hem here oghne chois

And tok hem therupon the keie.

Bot for he wolde it were seie

What good thei have, as thei suppose,

He bad anon the cofre unclose,

Which was fulfild with straw and stones:

Thus be thei served al at ones.

This king thanne in the same stede

2380Anon that other cofre undede,

Where as thei sihen gret richesse,

Wel more than thei couthen gesse.

“Lo,” seith the king, “nou mai ye se

That ther is no defalte in me;

Forthi miself I wole aquyte,

And bereth ye youre oghne wyte

Of that fortune hath you refused.”

Thus was this wise king excused,

And thei lefte of here evele speche

2390And mercy of here king beseche.

Somdiel to this matiere lik

I finde a tale, hou Frederik,

Of Rome that time Emperour,

Herde, as he wente, a gret clamour

Of tuo beggers upon the weie.

That on of hem began to seie,

“Ha lord, wel mai the man be riche

Whom that a king list forto riche.”

That other saide nothing so,

2400Bot, “He is riche and wel bego,

To whom that god wole sende wele.”

And thus thei maden wordes fele,

Wherof this lord hath hiede nome,

And dede hem bothe forto come

To the Paleis, wher he schal ete,

And bad ordeine for here mete

Tuo Pastes, whiche he let do make.

A capoun in that on was bake,

And in that other forto winne

2410Of florins al that mai withinne

He let do pute a gret richesse;

And evene aliche, as man mai gesse,

Outward thei were bothe tuo.

This begger was comanded tho,

He that which hield him to the king,

That he ferst chese upon this thing:

He sih hem, bot he felte hem noght,

So that upon his oghne thoght

He ches the Capoun and forsok

2420That other, which his fela tok.

Bot whanne he wiste hou that it ferde,

He seide alowd, that men it herde,

“Nou have I certeinly conceived

That he mai lihtly be deceived,

That tristeth unto mannes helpe;

Bot wel is him whom god wol helpe,

For he stant on the siker side,

Which elles scholde go beside:

I se my fela wel recovere,

2430And I mot duelle stille povere.”

Thus spak this begger his entente,

And povere he cam and povere he wente;

Of that he hath richesse soght,

His infortune it wolde noght.

So mai it schewe in sondri wise,

Betwen fortune and covoitise

The chance is cast upon a Dee;

Bot yit fulofte a man mai se

Ynowe of suche natheles,

2440Whiche evere pute hemself in press

To gete hem good, and yit thei faile.

And forto speke of this entaile

Touchende of love in thi matiere,

Mi goode Sone, as thou miht hiere,

That riht as it with tho men stod

Of infortune of worldes good,

As thou hast herd me telle above,

Riht so fulofte it stant be love:

Thogh thou coveite it everemore,

2450Thou schalt noght have o diel the more,

Bot only that which thee is schape,

The remenant is bot a jape.

And natheles ynowe of tho

Ther ben, that nou coveiten so,

That where as thei a womman se,

Ye ten or tuelve thogh ther be,

The love is nou so unavised,

That wher the beaute stant assised,

The mannes herte anon is there,

2460And rouneth tales in hire Ere,

And seith hou that he loveth streite,

And thus he set him to coveite,

An hundred thogh he sihe aday.

So wolde he more thanne he may;

Bot for the grete covoitise

Of sotie and of fol emprise

In ech of hem he fint somwhat

That pleseth him, or this or that;

Som on, for sche is whit of skin,

2470Som on, for sche is noble of kin,

Som on, for sche hath rodi chieke,

Som on, for that sche semeth mieke,

Som on, for sche hath yhen greie,

Som on, for sche can lawhe and pleie,

Som on, for sche is long and smal,

Som on, for sche is lyte and tall,

Som on, for sche is pale and bleche,

Som on, for sche is softe of speche,

Som on, for that sche is camused,

2480Som on, for sche hath noght ben used,

Som on, for sche can daunce and singe;

So that som thing to his likinge

He fint, and thogh nomore he fiele,

Bot that sche hath a litel hiele,

It is ynow that he therfore

Hire love, and thus an hundred score,

Whil thei be newe, he wolde he hadde;

Whom he forsakth, sche schal be badde.

The blinde man no colour demeth,

2490But al is on, riht as him semeth;

So hath his lust no juggement,

Whom covoitise of love blent.

Him thenkth that to his covoitise

Hou al the world ne mai suffise,

For be his wille he wolde have alle,

If that it mihte so befalle:

Thus is he commun as the Strete,

I sette noght of his beyete.

Mi Sone, hast thou such covoitise?

2500Nai, fader, such love I despise,

And whil I live schal don evere,

For in good feith yit hadde I levere,

Than to coveite in such a weie,

To ben for evere til I deie

As povere as Job, and loveles,

Outaken on, for haveles

His thonkes is noman alyve.

For that a man scholde al unthryve

Ther oghte no wisman coveite,

2510The lawe was noght set so streite:

Forthi miself withal to save,

Such on ther is I wolde have,

And non of al these othre mo.

Mi Sone, of that thou woldest so,

I am noght wroth, bot over this

I wol thee tellen hou it is.

For ther be men, whiche otherwise,

Riht only for the covoitise

Of that thei sen a womman riche,

2520Ther wol thei al here love affiche;

Noght for the beaute of hire face,

Ne yit for vertu ne for grace,

Which sche hath elles riht ynowh,

Bot for the Park and for the plowh,

And other thing which therto longeth:

For in non other wise hem longeth

To love, bot thei profit finde;

And if the profit be behinde,

Here love is evere lesse and lesse,

2530For after that sche hath richesse,

Her love is of proporcion.

If thou hast such condicion,

Mi Sone, tell riht as it is.

Min holi fader, nay ywiss,

Condicion such have I non.

For trewli, fader, I love oon

So wel with al myn hertes thoght,

That certes, thogh sche hadde noght,

And were as povere as Medea,

2540Which was exiled for Creusa,

I wolde hir noght the lasse love;

Ne thogh sche were at hire above,

As was the riche qwen Candace,

Which to deserve love and grace

To Alisandre, that was king,

Yaf many a worthi riche thing,

Or elles as Pantasilee,

Which was the quen of Feminee,

And gret richesse with hir nam,

2550Whan sche for love of Hector cam

To Troie in rescousse of the toun,-

I am of such condicion,

That thogh mi ladi of hirselve

Were also riche as suche tuelve,

I couthe noght, thogh it wer so,

No betre love hir than I do.

For I love in so plein a wise,

That forto speke of coveitise,

As for poverte or for richesse

2560Mi love is nouther mor ne lesse.

For in good feith I trowe this,

So coveitous noman ther is,

Forwhy and he mi ladi sihe,

That he thurgh lokinge of his yhe

Ne scholde have such a strok withinne,

That for no gold he mihte winne

He scholde noght hire love asterte,

Bot if he lefte there his herte;

Be so it were such a man,

2570That couthe Skile of a womman.

For ther be men so ruide some,

Whan thei among the wommen come,

Thei gon under proteccioun,

That love and his affeccioun

Ne schal noght take hem be the slieve;

For thei ben out of that believe,

Hem lusteth of no ladi chiere,

Bot evere thenken there and hiere

Wher that here gold is in the cofre,

2580And wol non other love profre:

Bot who so wot what love amounteth

And be resoun trewliche acompteth,

Than mai he knowe and taken hiede

That al the lust of wommanhiede,

Which mai ben in a ladi face,

Mi ladi hath, and ek of grace

If men schull yiven hire a pris,

Thei mai wel seie hou sche is wys

And sobre and simple of contenance,

2590And al that to good governance

Belongeth of a worthi wiht

Sche hath pleinli: for thilke nyht

That sche was bore, as for the nones

Nature sette in hire at ones

Beaute with bounte so besein,

That I mai wel afferme and sein,

I sawh yit nevere creature

Of comlihied and of feture

In eny kinges regioun

2600Be lich hire in comparisoun:

And therto, as I have you told,

Yit hath sche more a thousendfold

Of bounte, and schortli to telle,

Sche is the pure hed and welle

And Mirour and ensample of goode.

Who so hir vertus understode,

Me thenkth it oughte ynow suffise

Withouten other covoitise

To love such on and to serve,

2610Which with hire chiere can deserve

To be beloved betre ywiss

Than sche per cas that richest is

And hath of gold a Milion.

Such hath be myn opinion

And evere schal: bot natheles

I seie noght sche is haveles,

That sche nys riche and wel at ese,

And hath ynow wherwith to plese

Of worldes good whom that hire liste;

2620Bot o thing wolde I wel ye wiste,

That nevere for no worldes good

Min herte untoward hire stod,

Bot only riht for pure love;

That wot the hihe god above.

Nou, fader, what seie ye therto?

Mi Sone, I seie it is wel do.

For tak of this riht good believe,

What man that wole himself relieve

To love in eny other wise,

2630He schal wel finde his coveitise

Schal sore grieve him ate laste,

For such a love mai noght laste.

Bot nou, men sein, in oure daies

Men maken bot a fewe assaies,

Bot if the cause be richesse;

Forthi the love is wel the lesse.

And who that wolde ensamples telle,

Be olde daies as thei felle,

Than mihte a man wel understonde

2640Such love mai noght longe stonde.

Now herkne, Sone, and thou schalt hiere

A gret ensample of this matiere.

To trete upon the cas of love,

So as we tolden hiere above,

I finde write a wonder thing.

Of Puile whilom was a king,

A man of hih complexioun

And yong, bot his affeccioun

After the nature of his age

2650Was yit noght falle in his corage

The lust of wommen forto knowe.

So it betidde upon a throwe

This lord fell into gret seknesse:

Phisique hath don the besinesse

Of sondri cures manyon

To make him hol; and therupon

A worthi maister which ther was

Yaf him conseil upon this cas,

That if he wolde have parfit hele,

2660He scholde with a womman dele,

A freissh, a yong, a lusti wiht,

To don him compaignie a nyht:

For thanne he seide him redily,

That he schal be al hol therby,

And otherwise he kneu no cure.

This king, which stod in aventure

Of lif and deth, for medicine

Assented was, and of covine

His Steward, whom he tristeth wel,

2670He tok, and tolde him everydel,

Hou that this maister hadde seid:

And therupon he hath him preid

And charged upon his ligance,

That he do make porveance

Of such on as be covenable

For his plesance and delitable;

And bad him, hou that evere it stod,

That he schal spare for no good,

For his will is riht wel to paie.

2680The Steward seide he wolde assaie:

Bot nou hierafter thou schalt wite,

As I finde in the bokes write,

What coveitise in love doth.

This Steward, forto telle soth,

Amonges al the men alyve

A lusti ladi hath to wyve,

Which natheles for gold he tok

And noght for love, as seith the bok.

A riche Marchant of the lond

2690Hir fader was, and hire fond

So worthily, and such richesse

Of worldes good and such largesse

With hire he yaf in mariage,

That only for thilke avantage

Of good this Steward hath hire take,

For lucre and noght for loves sake,

And that was afterward wel seene;

Nou herkne what it wolde meene.

This Steward in his oghne herte

2700Sih that his lord mai noght asterte

His maladie, bot he have

A lusti womman him to save,

And thoghte he wolde yive ynowh

Of his tresor; wherof he drowh

Gret coveitise into his mynde,

And sette his honour fer behynde.

Thus he, whom gold hath overset,

Was trapped in his oghne net;

The gold hath mad hise wittes lame,

2710So that sechende his oghne schame

He rouneth in the kinges Ere,

And seide him that he wiste where

A gentile and a lusti on

Tho was, and thider wolde he gon:

Bot he mot yive yiftes grete;

For bot it be thurgh grete beyete

Of gold, he seith, he schal noght spede.

The king him bad upon the nede

That take an hundred pound he scholde,

2720And yive it where that he wolde,

Be so it were in worthi place:

And thus to stonde in loves grace

This king his gold hath abandouned.

And whan this tale was full rouned,

The Steward tok the gold and wente,

Withinne his herte and many a wente

Of coveitise thanne he caste,

Wherof a pourpos ate laste

Ayein love and ayein his riht

2730He tok, and seide hou thilke nyht

His wif schal ligge be the king;

And goth thenkende upon this thing

Toward his In, til he cam hom

Into the chambre, and thanne he nom

His wif, and tolde hire al the cas.

And sche, which red for schame was,

With bothe hire handes hath him preid

Knelende and in this wise seid,

That sche to reson and to skile

2740In what thing that he bidde wile

Is redy forto don his heste,

Bot this thing were noght honeste,

That he for gold hire scholde selle.

And he tho with hise wordes felle

Forth with his gastly contienance

Seith that sche schal don obeissance

And folwe his will in every place;

And thus thurgh strengthe of his manace

Hir innocence is overlad,

2750Wherof sche was so sore adrad

That sche his will mot nede obeie.

And therupon was schape a weie,

That he his oghne wif be nyhte

Hath out of alle mennes sihte

So prively that non it wiste

Broght to the king, which as him liste

Mai do with hire what he wolde.

For whan sche was ther as sche scholde,

With him abedde under the cloth,

2760The Steward tok his leve and goth

Into a chambre faste by;

Bot hou he slep, that wot noght I,

For he sih cause of jelousie.

Bot he, which hath the compainie

Of such a lusti on as sche,

Him thoghte that of his degre

Ther was noman so wel at ese:

Sche doth al that sche mai to plese,

So that his herte al hol sche hadde;

2770And thus this king his joie ladde,

Til it was nyh upon the day.

The Steward thanne wher sche lay

Cam to the bedd, and in his wise

Hath bede that sche scholde arise.

The king seith, “Nay, sche schal noght go.”

His Steward seide ayein, “Noght so;

For sche mot gon er it be knowe,

And so I swor at thilke throwe,

Whan I hire fette to you hiere.”

2780The king his tale wol noght hiere,

And seith hou that he hath hire boght,

Forthi sche schal departe noght,

Til he the brighte dai beholde.

And cawhte hire in hise armes folde,

As he which liste forto pleie,

And bad his Steward gon his weie,

And so he dede ayein his wille.

And thus his wif abedde stille

Lay with the king the longe nyht,

2790Til that it was hih Sonne lyht;

Bot who sche was he knew nothing.

Tho cam the Steward to the king

And preide him that withoute schame

In savinge of hire goode name

He myhte leden hom ayein

This lady, and hath told him plein

Hou that it was his oghne wif.

The king his Ere unto this strif

Hath leid, and whan that he it herde,

2800Welnyh out of his wit he ferde,

And seide, “Ha, caitif most of alle,

Wher was it evere er this befalle,

That eny cokard in this wise

Betok his wif for coveitise?

Thou hast bothe hire and me beguiled

And ek thin oghne astat reviled,

Wherof that buxom unto thee

Hierafter schal sche nevere be.

For this avou to god I make,

2810After this day if I thee take,

Thou schalt ben honged and todrawe.

Nou loke anon thou be withdrawe,

So that I se thee neveremore.”

This Steward thanne dradde him sore,

With al the haste that he mai

And fledde awei that same dai,

And was exiled out of londe.

Lo, there a nyce housebonde,

Which thus hath lost his wif for evere!

2820Bot natheles sche hadde a levere;

The king hire weddeth and honoureth,

Wherof hire name sche socoureth,

Which erst was lost thurgh coveitise

Of him, that ladde hire other wise,

And hath himself also forlore.

Mi Sone, be thou war therfore,

Wher thou schalt love in eny place,

That thou no covoitise embrace,

The which is noght of loves kinde.

2830Bot for al that a man mai finde

Nou in this time of thilke rage

Ful gret desese in mariage,

Whan venym melleth with the Sucre

And mariage is mad for lucre,

Or for the lust or for the hele:

What man that schal with outher dele,

He mai noght faile to repente.

Mi fader, such is myn entente:

Bot natheles good is to have,

2840For good mai ofte time save

The love which scholde elles spille.

Bot god, which wot myn hertes wille,

I dar wel take to witnesse,

Yit was I nevere for richesse

Beset with mariage non;

For al myn herte is upon on

So frely, that in the persone

Stant al my worldes joie al one:

I axe nouther Park ne Plowh,

2850If I hire hadde, it were ynowh,

Hir love scholde me suffise

Withouten other coveitise.

Lo now, mi fader, as of this,

Touchende of me riht as it is,

Mi schrifte I am beknowe plein;

And if ye wole oght elles sein,

Of covoitise if ther be more

In love, agropeth out the sore.

Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde

2860Hou Coveitise hath yit on honde

In special tuo conseilours,

That ben also hise procurours.

The ferst of hem is Falswitnesse,

Which evere is redi to witnesse

What thing his maister wol him hote:

Perjurie is the secounde hote,

Which spareth noght to swere an oth,

Thogh it be fals and god be wroth.

That on schal falswitnesse bere,

2870That other schal the thing forswere,

Whan he is charged on the bok.

So what with hepe and what with crok

Thei make here maister ofte winne

And wol noght knowe what is sinne

For coveitise, and thus, men sain,

Thei maken many a fals bargain.

Ther mai no trewe querele arise

In thilke queste and thilke assise,

Where as thei tuo the poeple enforme;

2880For thei kepe evere o maner forme,

That upon gold here conscience

Thei founde, and take here evidence;

And thus with falswitnesse and othes

Thei winne hem mete and drinke and clothes.

Riht so ther be, who that hem knewe,

Of thes lovers ful many untrewe:

Nou mai a womman finde ynowe,

That ech of hem, whan he schal wowe,

Anon he wole his hand doun lein

2890Upon a bok, and swere and sein

That he wole feith and trouthe bere;

And thus he profreth him to swere

To serven evere til he die,

And al is verai tricherie.

For whan the sothe himselven trieth,

The more he swerth, the more he lieth;

Whan he his feith makth althermest,

Than mai a womman truste him lest;

For til he mai his will achieve,

2900He is no lengere forto lieve.

Thus is the trouthe of love exiled,

And many a good womman beguiled.

And ek to speke of Falswitnesse,

There be nou many suche, I gesse,

That lich unto the provisours

Thei make here prive procurours,

To telle hou ther is such a man,

Which is worthi to love and can

Al that a good man scholde kunne;

2910So that with lesinge is begunne

The cause in which thei wole procede,

And also siker as the crede

Thei make of that thei knowen fals.

And thus fulofte aboute the hals

Love is of false men embraced;

Bot love which is so pourchaced

Comth afterward to litel pris.

Forthi, mi Sone, if thou be wis,

Nou thou hast herd this evidence,

2920Thou miht thin oghne conscience

Oppose, if thou hast ben such on.

Nai, god wot, fader I am non,

Ne nevere was; for as men seith,

Whan that a man schal make his feith,

His herte and tunge moste acorde;

For if so be that thei discorde,

Thanne is he fals and elles noght:

And I dar seie, as of my thoght,

In love it is noght descordable

2930Unto mi word, bot acordable.

And in this wise, fader, I

Mai riht wel swere and salvely,

That I mi ladi love wel,

For that acordeth everydel.

It nedeth noght to mi sothsawe

That I witnesse scholde drawe,

Into this dai for nevere yit

Ne mihte it sinke into mi wit,

That I my conseil scholde seie

2940To eny wiht, or me bewreie

To sechen help in such manere,

Bot only of mi ladi diere.

And thogh a thousend men it wiste,

That I hire love, and thanne hem liste

With me to swere and to witnesse,

Yit were that no falswitnesse;

For I dar on this trouthe duelle,

I love hire mor than I can telle.

Thus am I, fader, gulteles,

2950As ye have herd, and natheles

In youre dom I put it al.

Mi Sone, wite in special,

It schal noght comunliche faile,

Al thogh it for a time availe

That Falswitnesse his cause spede,

Upon the point of his falshiede

It schal wel afterward be kid;

Wherof, so as it is betid,

Ensample of suche thinges blinde

2960In a Cronique write I finde.

The Goddesse of the See Thetis,

Sche hadde a Sone, and his name is

Achilles, whom to kepe and warde,

Whil he was yong, as into warde

Sche thoghte him salfly to betake,

As sche which dradde for his sake

Of that was seid in prophecie,

That he at Troie scholde die,

Whan that the Cite was belein.

2970Forthi, so as the bokes sein,

Sche caste hire wit in sondri wise,

Hou sche him mihte so desguise

That noman scholde his bodi knowe:

And so befell that ilke throwe,

Whil that sche thoghte upon this dede,

Ther was a king, which Lichomede

Was hote, and he was wel begon

With faire dowhtres manyon,

And duelte fer out in an yle.

2980Nou schalt thou hiere a wonder wyle:

This queene, which the moder was

Of Achilles, upon this cas

Hire Sone, as he a Maiden were,

Let clothen in the same gere

Which longeth unto wommanhiede:

And he was yong and tok non hiede,

Bot soffreth al that sche him dede.

Wherof sche hath hire wommen bede

And charged be here othes alle,

2990Hou so it afterward befalle,

That thei discovere noght this thing,

Bot feigne and make a knowleching,

Upon the conseil which was nome,

In every place wher thei come

To telle and to witnesse this,

Hou he here ladi dowhter is.

And riht in such a maner wise

Sche bad thei scholde hire don servise,

So that Achilles underfongeth

3000As to a yong ladi belongeth

Honour, servise and reverence.

For Thetis with gret diligence

Him hath so tawht and so afaited,

That, hou so that it were awaited,

With sobre and goodli contenance

He scholde his wommanhiede avance,

That non the sothe knowe myhte,

Bot that in every mannes syhte

He scholde seme a pure Maide.

3010And in such wise as sche him saide,

Achilles, which that ilke while

Was yong, upon himself to smyle

Began, whan he was so besein.

And thus, after the bokes sein,

With frette of Perle upon his hed,

Al freissh betwen the whyt and red,

As he which tho was tendre of Age,

Stod the colour in his visage,

That forto loke upon his cheke

3020And sen his childly manere eke,

He was a womman to beholde.

And thanne his moder to him tolde,

That sche him hadde so begon

Be cause that sche thoghte gon

To Lichomede at thilke tyde,

Wher that sche seide he scholde abyde

Among hise dowhtres forto duelle.

Achilles herde his moder telle,

And wiste noght the cause why;

3030And natheles ful buxomly

He was redy to that sche bad,

Wherof his moder was riht glad,

To Lichomede and forth thei wente.

And whan the king knew hire entente,

And sih this yonge dowhter there,

And that it cam unto his Ere

Of such record, of such witnesse,

He hadde riht a gret gladnesse

Of that he bothe syh and herde,

3040As he that wot noght hou it ferde

Upon the conseil of the nede.

Bot for al that king Lichomede

Hath toward him this dowhter take,

And for Thetis his moder sake

He put hire into compainie

To duelle with Dei5damie,

His oghne dowhter, the eldeste,

The faireste and the comelieste

Of alle hise doghtres whiche he hadde.

3050Lo, thus Thetis the cause ladde,

And lefte there Achilles feigned,

As he which hath himself restreigned

In al that evere he mai and can

Out of the manere of a man,

And tok his wommannysshe chiere,

Wherof unto his beddefere

Dei5damie he hath be nyhte.

Wher kinde wole himselve rihte,

After the Philosophres sein,

3060Ther mai no wiht be therayein:

And that was thilke time seene.

The longe nyhtes hem betuene

Nature, which mai noght forbere,

Hath mad hem bothe forto stere:

Thei kessen ferst, and overmore

The hihe weie of loves lore

Thei gon, and al was don in dede,

Wherof lost is the maydenhede;

And that was afterward wel knowe.

3070For it befell that ilke throwe

At Troie, wher the Siege lay

Upon the cause of Menelay

And of his queene dame Heleine,

The Gregois hadden mochel peine

Alday to fihte and to assaile.

Bot for thei mihten noght availe

So noble a Cite forto winne,

A prive conseil thei beginne,

In sondri wise wher thei trete;

3080And ate laste among the grete

Thei fellen unto this acord,

That Prothes, of his record

Which was an Astronomien

And ek a gret Magicien,

Scholde of his calculacion

Seche after constellacion,

Hou thei the Cite mihten gete:

And he, which hadde noght foryete

Of that belongeth to a clerk,

3090His studie sette upon this werk.

So longe his wit aboute he caste,

Til that he fond out ate laste,

Bot if they hadden Achilles

Here werre schal ben endeles.

And over that he tolde hem plein

In what manere he was besein,

And in what place he schal be founde;

So that withinne a litel stounde

Ulixes forth with Diomede

3100Upon this point to Lichomede

Agamenon togedre sente.

Bot Ulixes, er he forth wente,

Which was on of the moste wise,

Ordeigned hath in such a wise,

That he the moste riche aray,

Wherof a womman mai be gay,

With him hath take manyfold,

And overmore, as it is told,

An harneis for a lusti kniht,

3110Which burned was as Selver bryht,

Of swerd, of plate and ek of maile,

As thogh he scholde to bataille,

He tok also with him be Schipe.

And thus togedre in felaschipe

Forth gon this Diomede and he

In hope til thei mihten se

The place where Achilles is.

The wynd stod thanne noght amis,

Bot evene topseilcole it blew,

3120Til Ulixes the Marche knew,

Wher Lichomede his Regne hadde.

The Stieresman so wel hem ladde,

That thei ben comen sauf to londe,

Wher thei gon out upon the stronde

Into the Burgh, wher that thei founde

The king, and he which hath facounde,

Ulixes, dede the message.

Bot the conseil of his corage,

Why that he cam, he tolde noght,

3130Bot undernethe he was bethoght

In what manere he mihte aspie

Achilles fro Dei5damie

And fro these othre that ther were,

Full many a lusti ladi there.

Thei pleide hem there a day or tuo,

And as it was fortuned so,

It fell that time in such a wise,

To Bachus that a sacrifise

Thes yonge ladys scholden make;

3140And for the strange mennes sake,

That comen fro the Siege of Troie,

Thei maden wel the more joie.

Ther was Revel, ther was daunsinge,

And every lif which coude singe

Of lusti wommen in the route

A freissh carole hath sunge aboute;

Bot for al this yit natheles

The Greks unknowe of Achilles

So weren, that in no degre

3150Thei couden wite which was he,

Ne be his vois, ne be his pas.

Ulixes thanne upon this cas

A thing of hih Prudence hath wroght:

For thilke aray, which he hath broght

To yive among the wommen there,

He let do fetten al the gere

Forth with a knihtes harneis eke,-

In al a contre forto seke

Men scholden noght a fairer se,-

3160And every thing in his degre

Endlong upon a bord he leide.

To Lichomede and thanne he preide

That every ladi chese scholde

What thing of alle that sche wolde,

And take it as be weie of yifte;

For thei hemself it scholde schifte,

He seide, after here oghne wille.

Achilles thanne stod noght stille:

Whan he the bryhte helm behield,

3170The swerd, the hauberk and the Schield,

His herte fell therto anon;

Of all that othre wolde he non,

The knihtes gere he underfongeth,

And thilke aray which that belongeth

Unto the wommen he forsok.

And in this wise, as seith the bok,

Thei knowen thanne which he was:

For he goth forth the grete pas

Into the chambre where he lay;

3180Anon, and made no delay,

He armeth him in knyhtli wise,

That bettre can noman devise,

And as fortune scholde falle,

He cam so forth tofore hem alle,

As he which tho was glad ynowh.

But Lichomede nothing lowh,

Whan that he syh hou that it ferde,

For thanne he wiste wel and herde,

His dowhter hadde be forlein;

3190Bot that he was so oversein,

The wonder overgoth his wit.

For in Cronique is write yit

Thing which schal nevere be foryete,

Hou that Achilles hath begete

Pirrus upon Dei5damie,

Wherof cam out the tricherie

Of Falswitnesse, whan thei saide

Hou that Achilles was a Maide.

Bot that was nothing sene tho,

3200For he is to the Siege go

Forth with Ulixe and Diomede.

Lo, thus was proved in the dede

And fulli spoke at thilke while:

If o womman an other guile,

Wher is ther eny sikernesse?

Whan Thetis, which was the goddesse,

Dei5damie hath so bejaped,

I not hou it schal ben ascaped

With tho wommen whos innocence

3210Is nou alday thurgh such credence

Deceived ofte, as it is seene,

With men that such untrouthe meene.

For thei ben slyhe in such a wise,

That thei be sleihte and be queintise

Of Falswitnesse bringen inne

That doth hem ofte forto winne,

Wher thei ben noght worthi therto.

Forthi, my Sone, do noght so.

Mi fader, as of Falswitnesse

3220The trouthe and the matiere expresse,

Touchende of love hou it hath ferd,

As ye have told, I have wel herd.

Bot for ye seiden otherwise,

Hou thilke vice of Covoitise

Hath yit Perjurie of his acord,

If that you list of som record

To telle an other tale also

In loves cause of time ago,

What thing it is to be forswore,

3230I wolde preie you therfore,

Wherof I mihte ensample take.

Mi goode Sone, and for thi sake

Touchende of this I schall fulfille

Thin axinge at thin oghne wille,

And the matiere I schal declare,

Hou the wommen deceived are,

Whan thei so tendre herte bere,

Of that thei hieren men so swere;

Bot whan it comth unto thassay,

3240Thei finde it fals an other day:

As Jason dede to Medee,

Which stant yet of Auctorite

In tokne and in memorial;

Wherof the tale in special

Is in the bok of Troie write,

Which I schal do thee forto wite.

In Grece whilom was a king,

Of whom the fame and knowleching

Beleveth yit, and Peles

3250He hihte; bot it fell him thus,

That his fortune hir whiel so ladde

That he no child his oghne hadde

To regnen after his decess.

He hadde a brother natheles,

Whos rihte name was Eson,

And he the worthi kniht Jason

Begat, the which in every lond

Alle othre passede of his hond

In Armes, so that he the beste

3260Was named and the worthieste,

He soghte worschipe overal.

Nou herkne, and I thee telle schal

An aventure that he soghte,

Which afterward ful dere he boghte.

Ther was an yle, which Colchos

Was cleped, and therof aros

Gret speche in every lond aboute,

That such merveile was non oute

In al the wyde world nawhere,

3270As tho was in that yle there.

Ther was a Schiep, as it was told,

The which his flees bar al of gold,

And so the goddes hadde it set,

That it ne mihte awei be fet

Be pouer of no worldes wiht:

And yit ful many a worthi kniht

It hadde assaied, as thei dorste,

And evere it fell hem to the worste.

Bot he, that wolde it noght forsake,

3280Bot of his knyhthod undertake

To do what thing therto belongeth,

This worthi Jason, sore alongeth

To se the strange regiouns

And knowe the condiciouns

Of othre Marches, where he wente;

And for that cause his hole entente

He sette Colchos forto seche,

And therupon he made a speche

To Peles his Em the king.

3290And he wel paid was of that thing;

And schop anon for his passage,

And suche as were of his lignage,

With othre knihtes whiche he ches,

With him he tok, and Hercules,

Which full was of chivalerie,

With Jason wente in compaignie;

And that was in the Monthe of Maii,

Whan colde stormes were away.

The wynd was good, the Schip was yare,

3300Thei tok here leve, and forth thei fare

Toward Colchos: bot on the weie

What hem befell is long to seie;

Hou Lamedon the king of Troie,

Which oghte wel have mad hem joie.

Whan thei to reste a while him preide,

Out of his lond he hem congeide;

And so fell the dissencion,

Which after was destruccion

Of that Cite, as men mai hiere:

3310Bot that is noght to mi matiere.

Bot thus this worthi folk Gregeis

Fro that king, which was noght curteis,

And fro his lond with Sail updrawe

Thei wente hem forth, and many a sawe

Thei made and many a gret manace,

Til ate laste into that place

Which as thei soghte thei aryve,

And striken Sail, and forth as blyve

Thei sente unto the king and tolden

3320Who weren ther and what thei wolden.

Oe5tes, which was thanne king,

Whan that he herde this tyding

Of Jason, which was comen there,

And of these othre, what thei were,

He thoghte don hem gret worschipe:

For thei anon come out of Schipe,

And strawht unto the king thei wente,

And be the hond Jason he hente,

And that was ate paleis gate,

3330So fer the king cam on his gate

Toward Jason to don him chiere;

And he, whom lacketh no manere,

Whan he the king sih in presence,

Yaf him ayein such reverence

As to a kinges stat belongeth.

And thus the king him underfongeth,

And Jason in his arm he cawhte,

And forth into the halle he strawhte,

And ther they siete and spieke of thinges,

3340And Jason tolde him tho tidinges,

Why he was come, and faire him preide

To haste his time, and the kyng seide,

“Jason, thou art a worthi kniht,

Bot it lith in no mannes myht

To don that thou art come fore:

Ther hath be many a kniht forlore

Of that thei wolden it assaie.”

Bot Jason wolde him noght esmaie,

And seide, “Of every worldes cure

3350Fortune stant in aventure,

Per aunter wel, per aunter wo:

Bot hou as evere that it go,

It schal be with myn hond assaied.”

The king tho hield him noght wel paied,

For he the Grekes sore dredde,

In aunter, if Jason ne spedde,

He mihte therof bere a blame;

For tho was al the worldes fame

In Grece, as forto speke of Armes.

3360Forthi he dredde him of his harmes,

And gan to preche him and to preie;

Bot Jason wolde noght obeie,

Bot seide he wolde his porpos holde

For ought that eny man him tolde.

The king, whan he thes wordes herde,

And sih hou that this kniht ansuerde,

Yit for he wolde make him glad,

After Medea gon he bad,

Which was his dowhter, and sche cam.

3370And Jason, which good hiede nam,

Whan he hire sih, ayein hire goth;

And sche, which was him nothing loth,

Welcomede him into that lond,

And softe tok him be the hond,

And doun thei seten bothe same.

Sche hadde herd spoke of his name

And of his grete worthinesse;

Forthi sche gan hir yhe impresse

Upon his face and his stature,

3380And thoghte hou nevere creature

Was so wel farende as was he.

And Jason riht in such degre

Ne mihte noght withholde his lok,

Bot so good hiede on hire he tok,

That him ne thoghte under the hevene

Of beaute sawh he nevere hir evene,

With al that fell to wommanhiede.

Thus ech of other token hiede,

Thogh ther no word was of record;

3390Here hertes bothe of on acord

Ben set to love, bot as tho

Ther mihten be no wordes mo.

The king made him gret joie and feste,

To alle his men he yaf an heste,

So as thei wolde his thonk deserve,

That thei scholde alle Jason serve,

Whil that he wolde there duelle.

And thus the dai, schortly to telle,

With manye merthes thei despente,

3400Til nyht was come, and tho thei wente,

Echon of other tok his leve,

Whan thei no lengere myhten leve.

I not hou Jason that nyht slep,

Bot wel I wot that of the Schep,

For which he cam into that yle,

He thoghte bot a litel whyle;

Al was Medea that he thoghte,

So that in many a wise he soghte

His witt wakende er it was day,

3410Som time yee, som time nay,

Som time thus, som time so,

As he was stered to and fro

Of love, and ek of his conqueste

As he was holde of his beheste.

And thus he ros up be the morwe

And tok himself seint John to borwe,

And seide he wolde ferst beginne

At love, and after forto winne

The flees of gold, for which he com,

3420And thus to him good herte he nom.

Medea riht the same wise,

Til dai cam that sche moste arise,

Lay and bethoughte hire al the nyht,

Hou sche that noble worthi kniht

Be eny weie mihte wedde:

And wel sche wiste, if he ne spedde

Of thing which he hadde undertake,

Sche mihte hirself no porpos take;

For if he deide of his bataile,

3430Sche moste thanne algate faile

To geten him, whan he were ded.

Thus sche began to sette red

And torne aboute hir wittes alle,

To loke hou that it mihte falle

That sche with him hadde a leisir

To speke and telle of hir desir.

And so it fell that same day

That Jason with that suete may

Togedre sete and hadden space

3440To speke, and he besoughte hir grace.

And sche his tale goodli herde,

And afterward sche him ansuerde

And seide, “Jason, as thou wilt,

Thou miht be sauf, thou miht be spilt;

For wite wel that nevere man,

Bot if he couthe that I can,

Ne mihte that fortune achieve

For which thou comst: bot as I lieve,

If thou wolt holde covenant

3450To love, of al the remenant

I schal thi lif and honour save,

That thou the flees of gold schalt have.”

He seide, “Al at youre oghne wille,

Ma dame, I schal treuly fulfille

Youre heste, whil mi lif mai laste.”

Thus longe he preide, and ate laste

Sche granteth, and behihte him this,

That whan nyht comth and it time is,

Sche wolde him sende certeinly

3460Such on that scholde him prively

Al one into hire chambre bringe.

He thonketh hire of that tidinge,

For of that grace him is begonne

Him thenkth alle othre thinges wonne.

The dai made ende and lost his lyht,

And comen was the derke nyht,

Which al the daies yhe blente.

Jason tok leve and forth he wente,

And whan he cam out of the pres,

3470He tok to conseil Hercules,

And tolde him hou it was betid,

And preide it scholde wel ben hid,

And that he wolde loke aboute,

Therwhiles that he schal ben oute.

Thus as he stod and hiede nam,

A Mayden fro Medea cam

And to hir chambre Jason ledde,

Wher that he fond redi to bedde

The faireste and the wiseste eke;

3480And sche with simple chiere and meke,

Whan sche him sih, wax al aschamed.

Tho was here tale newe entamed;

For sikernesse of Mariage

Sche fette forth a riche ymage,

Which was figure of Jupiter,

And Jason swor and seide ther,

That also wiss god scholde him helpe,

That if Medea dede him helpe,

That he his pourpos myhte winne,

3490Thei scholde nevere parte atwinne,

Bot evere whil him lasteth lif,

He wolde hire holde for his wif.

And with that word thei kisten bothe;

And for thei scholden hem unclothe,

Ther cam a Maide, and in hir wise

Sche dede hem bothe full servise,

Til that thei were in bedde naked:

I wot that nyht was wel bewaked,

Thei hadden bothe what thei wolde.

3500And thanne of leisir sche him tolde,

And gan fro point to point enforme

Of his bataile and al the forme,

Which as he scholde finde there,

Whan he to thyle come were.

Sche seide, at entre of the pas

Hou Mars, which god of Armes was,

Hath set tuo Oxen sterne and stoute,

That caste fyr and flamme aboute

Bothe at the mouth and ate nase,

3510So that thei setten al on blase

What thing that passeth hem betwene:

And forthermore upon the grene

Ther goth the flees of gold to kepe

A Serpent, which mai nevere slepe.

Thus who that evere scholde it winne,

The fyr to stoppe he mot beginne,

Which that the fierce bestes caste,

And daunte he mot hem ate laste,

So that he mai hem yoke and dryve;

3520And therupon he mot as blyve

The Serpent with such strengthe assaile,

That he mai slen him be bataile;

Of which he mot the teth outdrawe,

As it belongeth to that lawe,

And thanne he mot tho Oxen yoke,

Til thei have with a plowh tobroke

A furgh of lond, in which arowe

The teth of thaddre he moste sowe,

And therof schule arise knihtes

3530Wel armed up at alle rihtes.

Of hem is noght to taken hiede,

For ech of hem in hastihiede

Schal other slen with dethes wounde:

And thus whan thei ben leid to grounde,

Than mot he to the goddes preie,

And go so forth and take his preie.

Bot if he faile in eny wise

Of that ye hiere me devise,

Ther mai be set non other weie,

3540That he ne moste algates deie.

“Nou have I told the peril al:

I woll you tellen forth withal,”

Quod Medea to Jason tho,

“That ye schul knowen er ye go,

Ayein the venym and the fyr

What schal ben the recoverir.

Bot, Sire, for it is nyh day,

Ariseth up, so that I may

Delivere you what thing I have,

3550That mai youre lif and honour save.”

Thei weren bothe loth to rise,

Bot for thei weren bothe wise,

Up thei arisen ate laste:

Jason his clothes on him caste

And made him redi riht anon,

And sche hir scherte dede upon

And caste on hire a mantel clos,

Withoute more and thanne aros.

Tho tok sche forth a riche Tye

3560Mad al of gold and of Perrie,

Out of the which sche nam a Ring,

The Ston was worth al other thing.

Sche seide, whil he wolde it were,

Ther myhte no peril him dere,

In water mai it noght be dreynt,

Wher as it comth the fyr is queynt,

It daunteth ek the cruel beste,

Ther may no qued that man areste,

Wher so he be on See or lond,

3570Which hath that ring upon his hond:

And over that sche gan to sein,

That if a man wol ben unsein,

Withinne his hond hold clos the Ston,

And he mai invisible gon.

The Ring to Jason sche betauhte,

And so forth after sche him tauhte

What sacrifise he scholde make;

And gan out of hire cofre take

Him thoughte an hevenely figure,

3580Which al be charme and be conjure

Was wroght, and ek it was thurgh write

With names, which he scholde wite,

As sche him tauhte tho to rede;

And bad him, as he wolde spede,

Withoute reste of eny while,

Whan he were londed in that yle,

He scholde make his sacrifise

And rede his carecte in the wise

As sche him tauhte, on knes doun bent,

3590Thre sithes toward orient;

For so scholde he the goddes plese

And winne himselven mochel ese.

And whanne he hadde it thries rad,

To opne a buiste sche him bad,

Which sche ther tok him in present,

And was full of such oignement,

That ther was fyr ne venym non

That scholde fastnen him upon,

Whan that he were enoynt withal.

3600Forthi sche tauhte him hou he schal

Enoignte his armes al aboute,

And for he scholde nothing doute,

Sche tok him thanne a maner glu,

The which was of so gret vertu,

That where a man it wolde caste,

It scholde binde anon so faste

That noman mihte it don aweie.

And that sche bad be alle weie

He scholde into the mouthes throwen

3610Of tho tweie Oxen that fyr blowen,

Therof to stoppen the malice;

The glu schal serve of that office.

And over that hir oignement,

Hir Ring and hir enchantement

Ayein the Serpent scholde him were,

Til he him sle with swerd or spere:

And thanne he may saufliche ynowh

His Oxen yoke into the plowh

And the teth sowe in such a wise,

3620Til he the knyhtes se arise,

And ech of other doun be leid

In such manere as I have seid.

Lo, thus Medea for Jason

Ordeigneth, and preith therupon

That he nothing foryete scholde,

And ek sche preith him that he wolde,

Whan he hath alle his Armes don,

To grounde knele and thonke anon

The goddes, and so forth be ese

3630The flees of gold he scholde sese.

And whanne he hadde it sesed so,

That thanne he were sone ago

Withouten eny tariynge.

Whan this was seid, into wepinge

Sche fell, as sche that was thurgh nome

With love, and so fer overcome,

That al hir world on him sche sette.

Bot whan sche sih ther was no lette,

That he mot nedes parte hire fro,

3640Sche tok him in hire armes tuo,

An hundred time and gan him kisse,

And seide, “O, al mi worldes blisse,

Mi trust, mi lust, mi lif, min hele,

To be thin helpe in this querele

I preie unto the goddes alle.”

And with that word sche gan doun falle

On swoune, and he hire uppe nam,

And forth with that the Maiden cam,

And thei to bedde anon hir broghte,

3650And thanne Jason hire besoghte,

And to hire seide in this manere:

“Mi worthi lusti ladi dere,

Conforteth you, for be my trouthe

It schal noght fallen in mi slouthe

That I ne wol thurghout fulfille

Youre hestes at youre oghne wille.

And yit I hope to you bringe

Withinne a while such tidinge,

The which schal make ous bothe game.”

3660Bot for he wolde kepe hir name,

Whan that he wiste it was nyh dai,

He seide, “A dieu, mi swete mai.”

And forth with him he nam his gere,

Which as sche hadde take him there,

And strauht unto his chambre he wente,

And goth to bedde and slep him hente,

And lay, that noman him awok,

For Hercules hiede of him tok,

Til it was undren hih and more.

3670And thanne he gan to sighe sore

And sodeinliche abreide of slep;

And thei that token of him kep,

His chamberleins, be sone there,

And maden redi al his gere,

And he aros and to the king

He wente, and seide hou to that thing

For which he cam he wolde go.

The king therof was wonder wo,

And for he wolde him fain withdrawe,

3680He tolde him many a dredful sawe,

Bot Jason wolde it noght recorde,

And ate laste thei acorde.

Whan that he wolde noght abide,

A Bot was redy ate tyde,

In which this worthi kniht of Grece

Ful armed up at every piece,

To his bataile which belongeth,

Tok ore on honde and sore him longeth,

Til he the water passed were.

3690Whan he cam to that yle there,

He set him on his knes doun strauht,

And his carecte, as he was tawht,

He radde, and made his sacrifise,

And siththe enoignte him in that wise,

As Medea him hadde bede;

And thanne aros up fro that stede,

And with the glu the fyr he queynte,

And anon after he atteinte

The grete Serpent and him slowh.

3700Bot erst he hadde sorwe ynowh,

For that Serpent made him travaile

So harde and sore of his bataile,

That nou he stod and nou he fell:

For longe time it so befell,

That with his swerd ne with his spere

He mihte noght that Serpent dere.

He was so scherded al aboute,

It hield all eggetol withoute,

He was so ruide and hard of skin,

3710Ther mihte nothing go therin;

Venym and fyr togedre he caste,

That he Jason so sore ablaste,

That if ne were his oignement,

His Ring and his enchantement,

Which Medea tok him tofore,

He hadde with that worm be lore;

Bot of vertu which therof cam

Jason the Dragon overcam.

And he anon the teth outdrouh,

3720And sette his Oxen in a plouh,

With which he brak a piece of lond

And sieu hem with his oghne hond.

Tho mihte he gret merveile se:

Of every toth in his degre

Sprong up a kniht with spere and schield,

Of whiche anon riht in the field

Echon slow other; and with that

Jason Medea noght foryat,

On bothe his knes he gan doun falle,

3730And yaf thonk to the goddes alle.

The Flees he tok and goth to Bote,

The Sonne schyneth bryhte and hote,

The Flees of gold schon forth withal,

The water glistreth overal.

Medea wepte and sigheth ofte,

And stod upon a Tour alofte:

Al prively withinne hirselve,

Ther herde it nouther ten ne tuelve,

Sche preide, and seide, “O, god him spede,

3740The kniht which hath mi maidenhiede!”

And ay sche loketh toward thyle.

Bot whan sche sih withinne a while

The Flees glistrende ayein the Sonne,

Sche saide, “Ha, lord, now al is wonne,

Mi kniht the field hath overcome:

Nou wolde god he were come;

Ha lord, that he ne were alonde!”

Bot I dar take this on honde,

If that sche hadde wynges tuo,

3750Sche wolde have flowe unto him tho

Strawht ther he was into the Bot.

The dai was clier, the Sonne hot,

The Gregeis weren in gret doute,

The whyle that here lord was oute:

Thei wisten noght what scholde tyde,

Bot waiten evere upon the tyde,

To se what ende scholde falle.

Ther stoden ek the nobles alle

Forth with the comun of the toun;

3760And as thei loken up and doun,

Thei weren war withinne a throwe,

Wher cam the bot, which thei wel knowe,

And sihe hou Jason broghte his preie.

And tho thei gonnen alle seie,

And criden alle with o stevene,

“Ha, wher was evere under the hevene

So noble a knyht as Jason is?”

And welnyh alle seiden this,

That Jason was a faie kniht,

3770For it was nevere of mannes miht

The Flees of gold so forto winne;

And thus to talen thei beginne.

With that the king com forth anon,

And sih the Flees, hou that it schon;

And whan Jason cam to the lond,

The king himselve tok his hond

And kist him, and gret joie him made.

The Gregeis weren wonder glade,

And of that thing riht merie hem thoghte,

3780And forth with hem the Flees thei broghte,

And ech on other gan to leyhe;

Bot wel was him that mihte neyhe,

To se therof the proprete.

And thus thei passen the cite

And gon unto the Paleis straght.

Medea, which foryat him naght,

Was redy there, and seide anon,

“Welcome, O worthi kniht Jason.”

Sche wolde have kist him wonder fayn,

3790Bot schame tornede hire agayn;

It was noght the manere as tho,

Forthi sche dorste noght do so.

Sche tok hire leve, and Jason wente

Into his chambre, and sche him sente

Hire Maide to sen hou he ferde;

The which whan that sche sih and herde,

Hou that he hadde faren oute

And that it stod wel al aboute,

Sche tolde hire ladi what sche wiste,

3800And sche for joie hire Maide kiste.

The bathes weren thanne araied,

With herbes tempred and assaied,

And Jason was unarmed sone

And dede as it befell to done:

Into his bath he wente anon

And wyssh him clene as eny bon;

He tok a sopp, and oute he cam,

And on his beste aray he nam,

And kempde his hed, whan he was clad,

3810And goth him forth al merie and glad

Riht strawht into the kinges halle.

The king cam with his knihtes alle

And maden him glad welcominge;

And he hem tolde the tidinge

Of this and that, hou it befell,

Whan that he wan the schepes fell.

Medea, whan sche was asent,

Com sone to that parlement,

And whan sche mihte Jason se,

3820Was non so glad of alle as sche.

Ther was no joie forto seche,

Of him mad every man a speche,

Som man seide on, som man seide other;

Bot thogh he were goddes brother

And mihte make fyr and thonder,

Ther mihte be nomore wonder

Than was of him in that cite.

Echon tauhte other, “This is he,

Which hath in his pouer withinne

3830That al the world ne mihte winne:

Lo, hier the beste of alle goode.”

Thus saiden thei that there stode,

And ek that walkede up and doun,

Bothe of the Court and of the toun.

The time of Souper cam anon,

Thei wisshen and therto thei gon,

Medea was with Jason set:

Tho was ther many a deynte fet

And set tofore hem on the bord,

3840Bot non so likinge as the word

Which was ther spoke among hem tuo,

So as thei dorste speke tho.

Bot thogh thei hadden litel space,

Yit thei acorden in that place

Hou Jason scholde come at nyht,

Whan every torche and every liht

Were oute, and thanne of other thinges

Thei spieke aloud for supposinges

Of hem that stoden there aboute:

3850For love is everemore in doute,

If that it be wisly governed

Of hem that ben of love lerned.

Whan al was don, that dissh and cuppe

And cloth and bord and al was uppe,

Thei waken whil hem lest to wake,

And after that thei leve take

And gon to bedde forto reste.

And whan him thoghte for the beste,

That every man was faste aslepe,

3860Jason, that wolde his time kepe,

Goth forth stalkende al prively

Unto the chambre, and redely

Ther was a Maide, which him kepte.

Medea wok and nothing slepte,

Bot natheles sche was abedde,

And he with alle haste him spedde

And made him naked and al warm.

Anon he tok hire in his arm:

What nede is forto speke of ese?

3870Hem list ech other forto plese,

So that thei hadden joie ynow:

And tho thei setten whanne and how

That sche with him awey schal stele.

With wordes suche and othre fele

Whan al was treted to an ende,

Jason tok leve and gan forth wende

Unto his oughne chambre in pes;

Ther wiste it non bot Hercules.

He slepte and ros whan it was time,

3880And whanne it fell towardes prime,

He tok to him suche as he triste

In secre, that non other wiste,

And told hem of his conseil there,

And seide that his wille were

That thei to Schipe hadde alle thinge

So priveliche in thevenynge,

That noman mihte here dede aspie

Bot tho that were of compaignie:

For he woll go withoute leve,

3890And lengere woll he noght beleve;

Bot he ne wolde at thilke throwe

The king or queene scholde it knowe.

Thei saide, “Al this schal wel be do:”

And Jason truste wel therto.

Medea in the mene while,

Which thoghte hir fader to beguile,

The Tresor which hir fader hadde

With hire al priveli sche ladde,

And with Jason at time set

3900Awey sche stal and fond no let,

And straght sche goth hire unto schipe

Of Grece with that felaschipe,

And thei anon drowe up the Seil.

And al that nyht this was conseil,

Bot erly, whan the Sonne schon,

Men syhe hou that thei were agon,

And come unto the king and tolde:

And he the sothe knowe wolde,

And axeth where his dowhter was.

3910Ther was no word bot Out, Allas!

Sche was ago. The moder wepte,

The fader as a wod man lepte,

And gan the time forto warie,

And swor his oth he wol noght tarie,

That with Caliphe and with galeie

The same cours, the same weie,

Which Jason tok, he wolde take,

If that he mihte him overtake.

To this thei seiden alle yee:

3920Anon thei weren ate See,

And alle, as who seith, at a word

Thei gon withinne schipes bord,

The Sail goth up, and forth thei strauhte.

Bot non espleit therof thei cauhte,

And so thei tornen hom ayein,

For al that labour was in vein.

Jason to Grece with his preie

Goth thurgh the See the rihte weie:

Whan he ther com and men it tolde,

3930Thei maden joie yonge and olde.

Eson, whan that he wiste of this,

Hou that his Sone comen is,

And hath achieved that he soughte

And hom with him Medea broughte,

In al the wyde world was non

So glad a man as he was on.

Togedre ben these lovers tho,

Til that thei hadden sones tuo,

Wherof thei weren bothe glade,

3940And olde Eson gret joie made

To sen thencress of his lignage;

For he was of so gret an Age,

That men awaiten every day,

Whan that he scholde gon away.

Jason, which sih his fader old,

Upon Medea made him bold,

Of art magique, which sche couthe,

And preith hire that his fader youthe

Sche wolde make ayeinward newe:

3950And sche, that was toward him trewe,

Behihte him that sche wolde it do,

Whan that sche time sawh therto.

Bot what sche dede in that matiere

It is a wonder thing to hiere,

Bot yit for the novellerie

I thenke tellen a partie.

Thus it befell upon a nyht,

Whan ther was noght bot sterreliht,

Sche was vanyssht riht as hir liste,

3960That no wyht bot hirself it wiste,

And that was ate mydnyht tyde.

The world was stille on every side;

With open hed and fot al bare,

Hir her tosprad sche gan to fare,

Upon hir clothes gert sche was,

Al specheles and on the gras

Sche glod forth as an Addre doth:

Non otherwise sche ne goth,

Til sche cam to the freisshe flod,

3970And there a while sche withstod.

Thries sche torned hire aboute,

And thries ek sche gan doun loute

And in the flod sche wette hir her,

And thries on the water ther

Sche gaspeth with a drecchinge onde,

And tho sche tok hir speche on honde.

Ferst sche began to clepe and calle

Upward unto the sterres alle,

To Wynd, to Air, to See, to lond

3980Sche preide, and ek hield up hir hond

To Echates, and gan to crie,

Which is goddesse of Sorcerie.

Sche seide, “Helpeth at this nede,

And as ye maden me to spede,

Whan Jason cam the Flees to seche,

So help me nou, I you beseche.”

With that sche loketh and was war,

Doun fro the Sky ther cam a char,

The which Dragouns aboute drowe:

3990And tho sche gan hir hed doun bowe,

And up sche styh, and faire and wel

Sche drof forth bothe char and whel

Above in thair among the Skyes.

The lond of Crete and tho parties

Sche soughte, and faste gan hire hye,

And there upon the hulles hyhe

Of Othrin and Olimpe also,

And ek of othre hulles mo,

Sche fond and gadreth herbes suote,

4000Sche pulleth up som be the rote,

And manye with a knyf sche scherth,

And alle into hir char sche berth.

Thus whan sche hath the hulles sought,

The flodes ther foryat sche nought,

Eridian and Amphrisos,

Peneie and ek Sperchei5dos,

To hem sche wente and ther sche nom

Bothe of the water and the fom,

The sond and ek the smale stones,

4010Whiche as sche ches out for the nones,

And of the rede See a part,

That was behovelich to hire art,

Sche tok, and after that aboute

Sche soughte sondri sedes oute

In feldes and in many greves,

And ek a part sche tok of leves:

Bot thing which mihte hire most availe

Sche fond in Crete and in Thessaile.

In daies and in nyhtes Nyne,

4020With gret travaile and with gret pyne,

Sche was pourveid of every piece,

And torneth homward into Grece.

Before the gates of Eson

Hir char sche let awai to gon,

And tok out ferst that was therinne;

For tho sche thoghte to beginne

Such thing as semeth impossible,

And made hirselven invisible,

As sche that was with Air enclosed

4030And mihte of noman be desclosed.

Sche tok up turves of the lond

Withoute helpe of mannes hond,

Al heled with the grene gras,

Of which an Alter mad ther was

Unto Echates the goddesse

Of art magique and the maistresse,

And eft an other to Juvente,

As sche which dede hir hole entente.

Tho tok sche fieldwode and verveyne,

4040Of herbes ben noght betre tueine,

Of which anon withoute let

These alters ben aboute set:

Tuo sondri puttes faste by

Sche made, and with that hastely

A wether which was blak sche slouh,

And out therof the blod sche drouh

And dede into the pettes tuo;

Warm melk sche putte also therto

With hony meynd: and in such wise

4050Sche gan to make hir sacrifice,

And cride and preide forth withal

To Pluto the god infernal,

And to the queene Proserpine.

And so sche soghte out al the line

Of hem that longen to that craft,

Behinde was no name laft,

And preide hem alle, as sche wel couthe,

To grante Eson his ferste youthe.

This olde Eson broght forth was tho,

4060Awei sche bad alle othre go

Upon peril that mihte falle;

And with that word thei wenten alle,

And leften there hem tuo al one.

And tho sche gan to gaspe and gone,

And made signes manyon,

And seide hir wordes therupon;

So that with spellinge of hir charmes

Sche tok Eson in bothe hire armes,

And made him forto slepe faste,

4070And him upon hire herbes caste.

The blake wether tho sche tok,

And hiewh the fleissh, as doth a cok;

On either alter part sche leide,

And with the charmes that sche seide

A fyr doun fro the Sky alyhte

And made it forto brenne lyhte.

Bot whan Medea sawh it brenne,

Anon sche gan to sterte and renne

The fyri aulters al aboute:

4080Ther was no beste which goth oute

More wylde than sche semeth ther:

Aboute hir schuldres hyng hir her,

As thogh sche were oute of hir mynde

And torned in an other kynde.

Tho lay ther certein wode cleft,

Of which the pieces nou and eft

Sche made hem in the pettes wete,

And put hem in the fyri hete,

And tok the brond with al the blase,

4090And thries sche began to rase

Aboute Eson, ther as he slepte;

And eft with water, which sche kepte,

Sche made a cercle aboute him thries,

And eft with fyr of sulphre twyes:

Ful many an other thing sche dede,

Which is noght writen in this stede.

Bot tho sche ran so up and doun,

Sche made many a wonder soun,

Somtime lich unto the cock,

4100Somtime unto the Laverock,

Somtime kacleth as a Hen,

Somtime spekth as don the men:

And riht so as hir jargoun strangeth,

In sondri wise hir forme changeth,

Sche semeth faie and no womman;

For with the craftes that sche can

Sche was, as who seith, a goddesse,

And what hir liste, more or lesse,

Sche dede, in bokes as we finde,

4110That passeth over manneskinde.

Bot who that wole of wondres hiere,

What thing sche wroghte in this matiere,

To make an ende of that sche gan,

Such merveile herde nevere man.

Apointed in the newe Mone,

Whan it was time forto done,

Sche sette a caldron on the fyr,

In which was al the hole atir,

Wheron the medicine stod,

4120Of jus, of water and of blod,

And let it buile in such a plit,

Til that sche sawh the spume whyt;

And tho sche caste in rynde and rote,

And sed and flour that was for bote,

With many an herbe and many a ston,

Wherof sche hath ther many on:

And ek Cimpheius the Serpent

To hire hath alle his scales lent,

Chelidre hire yaf his addres skin,

4130And sche to builen caste hem in;

A part ek of the horned Oule,

The which men hiere on nyhtes houle;

And of a Raven, which was told

Of nyne hundred wynter old,

Sche tok the hed with al the bile;

And as the medicine it wile,

Sche tok therafter the bouele

Of the Seewolf, and for the hele

Of Eson, with a thousand mo

4140Of thinges that sche hadde tho,

In that Caldroun togedre as blyve

Sche putte, and tok thanne of Olyve

A drie branche hem with to stere,

The which anon gan floure and bere

And waxe al freissh and grene ayein.

Whan sche this vertu hadde sein,

Sche let the leste drope of alle

Upon the bare flor doun falle;

Anon ther sprong up flour and gras,

4150Where as the drope falle was,

And wox anon al medwe grene,

So that it mihte wel be sene.

Medea thanne knew and wiste

Hir medicine is forto triste,

And goth to Eson ther he lay,

And tok a swerd was of assay,

With which a wounde upon his side

Sche made, that therout mai slyde

The blod withinne, which was old

4160And sek and trouble and fieble and cold.

And tho sche tok unto his us

Of herbes al the beste jus,

And poured it into his wounde;

That made his veynes fulle and sounde:

And tho sche made his wounde clos,

And tok his hond, and up he ros;

And tho sche yaf him drinke a drauhte,

Of which his youthe ayein he cauhte,

His hed, his herte and his visage

4170Lich unto twenty wynter Age;

Hise hore heres were away,

And lich unto the freisshe Maii,

Whan passed ben the colde shoures,

Riht so recovereth he his floures.

Lo, what mihte eny man devise,

A womman schewe in eny wise

Mor hertly love in every stede,

Than Medea to Jason dede?

Ferst sche made him the flees to winne,

4180And after that fro kiththe and kinne

With gret tresor with him sche stal,

And to his fader forth withal

His Elde hath torned into youthe,

Which thing non other womman couthe:

Bot hou it was to hire aquit,

The remembrance duelleth yit.

King Peles his Em was ded,

Jason bar corone on his hed,

Medea hath fulfild his wille:

4190Bot whanne he scholde of riht fulfille

The trouthe, which to hire afore

He hadde in thyle of Colchos swore,

Tho was Medea most deceived.

For he an other hath received,

Which dowhter was to king Creon,

Creusa sche hihte, and thus Jason,

As he that was to love untrewe,

Medea lefte and tok a newe.

Bot that was after sone aboght:

4200Medea with hire art hath wroght

Of cloth of gold a mantel riche,

Which semeth worth a kingesriche,

And that was unto Creusa sent

In name of yifte and of present,

For Sosterhode hem was betuene;

And whan that yonge freisshe queene

That mantel lappeth hire aboute,

Anon therof the fyr sprong oute

And brente hir bothe fleissh and bon.

4210Tho cam Medea to Jason

With bothe his Sones on hire hond,

And seide, “O thou of every lond

The moste untrewe creature,

Lo, this schal be thi forfeture.”

With that sche bothe his Sones slouh

Before his yhe, and he outdrouh

His swerd and wold have slayn hir tho,

Bot farewel, sche was ago

Unto Pallas the Court above,

4220Wher as sche pleigneth upon love,

As sche that was with that goddesse,

And he was left in gret destresse.

Thus miht thou se what sorwe it doth

To swere an oth which is noght soth,

In loves cause namely.

Mi Sone, be wel war forthi,

And kep that thou be noght forswore:

For this, which I have told tofore,

Ovide telleth everydel.

4230Mi fader, I may lieve it wel,

For I have herde it ofte seie

Hou Jason tok the flees aweie

Fro Colchos, bot yit herde I noght

Be whom it was ferst thider broght.

And for it were good to hiere,

If that you liste at mi preiere

To telle, I wolde you beseche.

Mi Sone, who that wole it seche,

In bokes he mai finde it write;

4240And natheles, if thou wolt wite,

In the manere as thou hast preid

I schal the telle hou it is seid.

The fame of thilke schepes fell,

Which in Colchos, as it befell,

Was al of gold, schal nevere deie;

Wherof I thenke for to seie

Hou it cam ferst into that yle.

Ther was a king in thilke whyle

Towardes Grece, and Athemas

4250The Cronique of his name was;

And hadde a wif, which Philen hihte,

Be whom, so as fortune it dihte,

He hadde of children yonge tuo.

Frixus the ferste was of tho,

A knave child, riht fair withalle;

A dowhter ek, the which men calle

Hellen, he hadde be this wif.

Bot for ther mai no mannes lif

Endure upon this Erthe hiere,

4260This worthi queene, as thou miht hiere,

Er that the children were of age,

Tok of hire ende the passage,

With gret worschipe and was begrave.

What thing it liketh god to have

It is gret reson to ben his;

Forthi this king, so as it is,

With gret suffrance it underfongeth:

And afterward, as him belongeth,

Whan it was time forto wedde,

4270A newe wif he tok to bedde,

Which Yno hihte and was a Mayde,

And ek the dowhter, as men saide,

Of Cadme, which a king also

Was holde in thilke daies tho.

Whan Yno was the kinges make,

Sche caste hou that sche mihte make

These children to here fader lothe,

And schope a wyle ayein hem bothe,

Which to the king was al unknowe.

4280A yeer or tuo sche let do sowe

The lond with sode whete aboute,

Wherof no corn mai springen oute;

And thus be sleyhte and be covine

Aros the derthe and the famine

Thurghout the lond in such a wise,

So that the king a sacrifise

Upon the point of this destresse

To Ceres, which is the goddesse

Of corn, hath schape him forto yive,

4290To loke if it mai be foryive,

The meschief which was in his lond.

Bot sche, which knew tofor the hond

The circumstance of al this thing,

Ayein the cominge of the king

Into the temple, hath schape so,

Of hire acord that alle tho

Whiche of the temple prestes were

Have seid and full declared there

Unto the king, bot if so be

4300That he delivere the contre

Of Frixus and of Hellen bothe,

With whom the goddes ben so wrothe,

That whil tho children ben therinne,

Such tilthe schal noman beginne,

Wherof to gete him eny corn.

Thus was it seid, thus was it sworn

Of all the Prestes that ther are;

And sche which causeth al this fare

Seid ek therto what that sche wolde,

4310And every man thanne after tolde

So as the queene hem hadde preid.

The king, which hath his Ere leid,

And lieveth al that evere he herde,

Unto here tale thus ansuerde,

And seith that levere him is to chese

Hise children bothe forto lese,

Than him and al the remenant

Of hem whiche are aportenant

Unto the lond which he schal kepe:

4320And bad his wif to take kepe

In what manere is best to done,

That thei delivered weren sone

Out of this world. And sche anon

Tuo men ordeigneth forto gon;

Bot ferst sche made hem forto swere

That thei the children scholden bere

Unto the See, that non it knowe,

And hem therinne bothe throwe.

The children to the See ben lad,

4330Wher in the wise as Yno bad

These men be redy forto do.

Bot the goddesse which Juno

Is hote, appiereth in the stede,

And hath unto the men forbede

That thei the children noght ne sle;

Bot bad hem loke into the See

And taken hiede of that thei sihen.

Ther swam a Schep tofore here yhen,

Whos flees of burned gold was al;

4340And this goddesse forth withal

Comandeth that withoute lette

Thei scholde anon these children sette

Above upon this Schepes bak;

And al was do, riht as sche spak,

Wherof the men gon hom ayein.

And fell so, as the bokes sein,

Hellen the yonge Mayden tho,

Which of the See was wo bego,

For pure drede hire herte hath lore,

4350That fro the Schep, which hath hire bore,

As sche that was swounende feint,

Sche fell, and hath hirselve dreint;

With Frixus and this Schep forth swam,

Til he to thyle of Colchos cam,

Where Juno the goddesse he fond,

Which tok the Schep unto the lond,

And sette it there in such a wise

As thou tofore hast herd devise,

Wherof cam after al the wo,

4360Why Jason was forswore so

Unto Medee, as it is spoke.

Mi fader, who that hath tobroke

His trouthe, as ye have told above,

He is noght worthi forto love

Ne be beloved, as me semeth:

Bot every newe love quemeth

To him which newefongel is.

And natheles nou after this,

If that you list to taken hiede

4370Upon mi Schrifte to procede,

In loves cause ayein the vice

Of covoitise and Avarice

What ther is more I wolde wite.

Mi Sone, this I finde write,

Ther is yit on of thilke brood,

Which only for the worldes good,

To make a Tresor of Moneie,

Put alle conscience aweie:

Wherof in thi confession

4380The name and the condicion

I schal hierafterward declare,

Which makth on riche, an other bare.

Upon the bench sittende on hih

With Avarice Usure I sih,

Full clothed of his oghne suite,

Which after gold makth chace and suite

With his brocours, that renne aboute

Lich unto racches in a route.

Such lucre is non above grounde,

4390Which is noght of tho racches founde;

For wher thei se beyete sterte,

That schal hem in no wise asterte,

Bot thei it dryve into the net

Of lucre, which Usure hath set.

Usure with the riche duelleth,

To al that evere he beith and selleth

He hath ordeined of his sleyhte

Mesure double and double weyhte:

Outward he selleth be the lasse,

4400And with the more he makth his tasse,

Wherof his hous is full withinne.

He reccheth noght, be so he winne,

Though that ther lese ten or tuelve:

His love is al toward himselve

And to non other, bot he se

That he mai winne suche thre;

For wher he schal oght yive or lene,

He wol ayeinward take a bene,

Ther he hath lent the smale pese.

4410And riht so ther ben manye of these

Lovers, that thogh thei love a lyte,

That scarsly wolde it weie a myte,

Yit wolde thei have a pound again,

As doth Usure in his bargain.

Bot certes such usure unliche,

It falleth more unto the riche,

Als wel of love as of beyete,

Than unto hem that be noght grete,

And, as who seith, ben simple and povere;

4420For sielden is whan thei recovere,

Bot if it be thurgh gret decerte.

And natheles men se poverte

With porsuite and continuance

Fulofte make a gret chevance

And take of love his avantage,

Forth with the help of his brocage,

That maken seme wher is noght.

And thus fulofte is love boght

For litel what, and mochel take,

4430With false weyhtes that thei make.

Nou, Sone, of that I seide above

Thou wost what Usure is of love:

Tell me forthi what so thou wilt,

If thou therof hast eny gilt.

Mi fader, nay, for ought I hiere.

For of tho pointz ye tolden hiere

I wol you be mi trouthe assure,

Mi weyhte of love and mi mesure

Hath be mor large and mor certein

4440Than evere I tok of love ayein:

For so yit couthe I nevere of sleyhte,

To take ayein be double weyhte

Of love mor than I have yive.

For als so wiss mot I be schrive

And have remission of Sinne,

As so yit couthe I nevere winne,

Ne yit so mochel, soth to sein,

That evere I mihte have half ayein

Of so full love as I have lent:

4450And if myn happ were so wel went,

That for the hole I mihte have half,

Me thenkth I were a goddeshalf.

For where Usure wole have double,

Mi conscience is noght so trouble,

I biede nevere as to my del

Bot of the hole an halvendel;

That is non excess, as me thenketh.

Bot natheles it me forthenketh;

For wel I wot that wol noght be,

4460For every day the betre I se

That hou so evere I yive or lene

Mi love in place ther I mene,

For oght that evere I axe or crave,

I can nothing ayeinward have.

Bot yit for that I wol noght lete,

What so befalle of mi beyete,

That I ne schal hire yive and lene

Mi love and al mi thoght so clene,

That toward me schal noght beleve.

4470And if sche of hire goode leve

Rewarde wol me noght again,

I wot the laste of my bargain

Schal stonde upon so gret a lost,

That I mai neveremor the cost

Recovere in this world til I die.

So that touchende of this partie

I mai me wel excuse and schal;

And forto speke forth withal,

If eny brocour for me wente,

4480That point cam nevere in myn entente:

So that the more me merveilleth,

What thing it is mi ladi eilleth,

That al myn herte and al my time

Sche hath, and doth no betre bime.

I have herd seid that thoght is fre,

And natheles in privete

To you, mi fader, that ben hiere

Min hole schrifte forto hiere,

I dar min herte wel desclose.

4490Touchende usure, as I suppose,

Which as ye telle in love is used,

Mi ladi mai noght ben excused;

That for o lokinge of hire ye5

Min hole herte til I dye

With al that evere I may and can

Sche hath me wonne to hire man:

Wherof, me thenkth, good reson wolde

That sche somdel rewarde scholde,

And yive a part, ther sche hath al.

4500I not what falle hierafter schal,

Bot into nou yit dar I sein,

Hire liste nevere yive ayein

A goodli word in such a wise,

Wherof min hope mihte arise,

Mi grete love to compense.

I not hou sche hire conscience

Excuse wole of this usure;

Be large weyhte and gret mesure

Sche hath mi love, and I have noght

4510Of that which I have diere boght,

And with myn herte I have it paid;

Bot al that is asyde laid,

And I go loveles aboute.

Hire oghte stonde if ful gret doute,

Til sche redresce such a sinne,

That sche wole al mi love winne

And yifth me noght to live by:

Noght als so moche as “grant mercy”

Hir list to seie, of which I mihte

4520Som of mi grete peine allyhte.

Bot of this point, lo, thus I fare

As he that paith for his chaffare,

And beith it diere, and yit hath non,

So mot he nedes povere gon:

Thus beie I diere and have no love,

That I ne mai noght come above

To winne of love non encress.

Bot I me wole natheles

Touchende usure of love aquite;

4530And if mi ladi be to wyte,

I preie to god such grace hir sende

That sche be time it mot amende.

Mi Sone, of that thou hast ansuerd

Touchende Usure I have al herd,

Hou thou of love hast wonne smale:

Bot that thou tellest in thi tale

And thi ladi therof accusest,

Me thenkth tho wordes thou misusest.

For be thin oghne knowlechinge

4540Thou seist hou sche for o lokinge

Thin hole herte fro the tok:

Sche mai be such, that hire o lok

Is worth thin herte manyfold;

So hast thou wel thin herte sold,

Whan thou hast that is more worth.

And ek of that thou tellest forth,

Hou that hire weyhte of love unevene

Is unto thin, under the hevene

Stod nevere in evene that balance

4550Which stant in loves governance.

Such is the statut of his lawe,

That thogh thi love more drawe

And peise in the balance more,

Thou miht noght axe ayein therfore

Of duete, bot al of grace.

For love is lord in every place,

Ther mai no lawe him justefie

Be reddour ne be compaignie,

That he ne wole after his wille

4560Whom that him liketh spede or spille.

To love a man mai wel beginne,

Bot whether he schal lese or winne,

That wot noman til ate laste:

Forthi coveite noght to faste,

Mi Sone, bot abyd thin ende,

Per cas al mai to goode wende.

Bot that thou hast me told and said,

Of o thing I am riht wel paid,

That thou be sleyhte ne be guile

4570Of no brocour hast otherwhile

Engined love, for such dede

Is sore venged, as I rede.

Brocours of love that deceiven,

No wonder is thogh thei receiven

After the wrong that thei decerven;

For whom as evere that thei serven

And do plesance for a whyle,

Yit ate laste here oghne guile

Upon here oghne hed descendeth,

4580Which god of his vengance sendeth,

As be ensample of time go

A man mai finde it hath be so.

It fell somtime, as it was sene,

The hihe goddesse and the queene

Juno tho hadde in compainie

A Maiden full of tricherie;

For sche was evere in on acord

With Jupiter, that was hire lord,

To gete him othre loves newe,

4590Thurgh such brocage and was untrewe

Al otherwise than him nedeth.

Bot sche, which of no schame dredeth,

With queinte wordes and with slyhe

Blente in such wise hir lady yhe,

As sche to whom that Juno triste,

So that therof sche nothing wiste.

Bot so prive mai be nothing,

That it ne comth to knowleching;

Thing don upon the derke nyht

4600Is after knowe on daies liht:

So it befell, that ate laste

Al that this slyhe maiden caste

Was overcast and overthrowe.

For as the sothe mot be knowe,

To Juno was don understonde

In what manere hir housebonde

With fals brocage hath take usure

Of love mor than his mesure,

Whan he tok othre than his wif,

4610Wherof this mayden was gultif,

Which hadde ben of his assent.

And thus was al the game schent;

She soffreth him, as sche mot nede,

Bot the brocour of his misdede,

Sche which hir conseil yaf therto,

On hire is the vengance do:

For Juno with hire wordes hote,

This Maiden, which Eccho was hote,

Reproveth and seith in this wise:

4620“O traiteresse, of which servise

Hast thou thin oghne ladi served!

Thou hast gret peine wel deserved,

That thou canst maken it so queinte,

Thi slyhe wordes forto peinte

Towardes me, that am thi queene,

Wherof thou madest me to wene

That myn housbonde trewe were,

Whan that he loveth elleswhere,

Al be it so him nedeth noght.

4630Bot upon thee it schal be boght,

Which art prive to tho doinges,

And me fulofte of thi lesinges

Deceived hast: nou is the day

That I thi while aquite may;

And for thou hast to me conceled

That my lord hath with othre deled,

I schal thee sette in such a kende,

That evere unto the worldes ende

Al that thou hierest thou schalt telle,

4640And clappe it out as doth a belle.”

And with that word sche was forschape,

Ther may no vois hire mouth ascape,

What man that in the wodes crieth,

Withoute faile Eccho replieth,

And what word that him list to sein,

The same word sche seith ayein.

Thus sche, which whilom hadde leve

To duelle in chambre, mot beleve

In wodes and on helles bothe,

4650For such brocage as wyves lothe,

Which doth here lordes hertes change

And love in other place strange.

Forthi, if evere it so befalle,

That thou, mi Sone, amonges alle

Be wedded man, hold that thou hast,

For thanne al other love is wast.

O wif schal wel to thee suffise,

And thanne, if thou for covoitise

Of love woldest axe more,

4660Thou scholdest don ayein the lore

Of alle hem that trewe be.

Mi fader, as in this degre

My conscience is noght accused;

For I no such brocage have used,

Wherof that lust of love is wonne.

Forthi spek forth, as ye begonne,

Of Avarice upon mi schrifte.

Mi Sone, I schal the branches schifte

Be ordre so as thei ben set,

4670On whom no good is wel beset.

Blinde Avarice of his lignage

For conseil and for cousinage,

To be withholde ayein largesse,

Hath on, whos name is seid Skarsnesse,

The which is kepere of his hous,

And is so thurghout averous,

That he no good let out of honde;

Thogh god himself it wolde fonde,

Of yifte scholde he nothing have;

4680And if a man it wolde crave,

He moste thanne faile nede,

Wher god himselve mai noght spede.

And thus Skarsnesse in every place

Be reson mai no thonk porchace,

And natheles in his degree

Above all othre most prive

With Avarice stant he this.

For he governeth that ther is

In ech astat of his office

4690After the reule of thilke vice;

He takth, he kepth, he halt, he bint,

That lihtere is to fle the flint

Than gete of him in hard or neisshe

Only the value of a reysshe

Of good in helpinge of an other,

Noght thogh it were his oghne brother.

For in the cas of yifte and lone

Stant every man for him al one,

Him thenkth of his unkindeschipe

4700That him nedeth no felaschipe:

Be so the bagge and he acorden,

Him reccheth noght what men recorden

Of him, or it be evel or good.

For al his trust is on his good,

So that al one he falleth ofte,

Whan he best weneth stonde alofte,

Als wel in love as other wise;

For love is evere of som reprise

To him that wole his love holde.

4710Forthi, mi Sone, as thou art holde,

Touchende of this tell me thi schrifte:

Hast thou be scars or large of yifte

Unto thi love, whom thou servest?

For after that thou wel deservest

Of yifte, thou miht be the bet;

For that good holde I wel beset,

For why thou miht the betre fare;

Thanne is no wisdom forto spare.

For thus men sein, in every nede

4720He was wys that ferst made mede;

For where as mede mai noght spede,

I not what helpeth other dede:

Fulofte he faileth of his game

That wol with ydel hand reclame

His hauk, as many a nyce doth.

Forthi, mi Sone, tell me soth

And sei the trouthe, if thou hast be

Unto thy love or skars or fre.

Mi fader, it hath stonde thus,

4730That if the tresor of Cresus

And al the gold Octovien,

Forth with the richesse Yndien

Of Perles and of riche stones,

Were al togedre myn at ones,

I sette it at nomore acompte

Than wolde a bare straw amonte,

To yive it hire al in a day,

Be so that to that suete may

I myhte like or more or lesse.

4740And thus be cause of my scarsnesse

Ye mai wel understonde and lieve

That I schal noght the worse achieve

The pourpos which is in my thoght.

Bot yit I yaf hir nevere noght,

Ne therto dorste a profre make;

For wel I wot sche wol noght take,

And yive wol sche noght also,

Sche is eschu of bothe tuo.

And this I trowe be the skile

4750Towardes me, for sche ne wile

That I have eny cause of hope,

Noght also mochel as a drope.

Bot toward othre, as I mai se,

Sche takth and yifth in such degre,

That as be weie of frendlihiede

Sche can so kepe hir wommanhiede,

That every man spekth of hir wel.

Bot sche wole take of me no del,

And yit sche wot wel that I wolde

4760Yive and do bothe what I scholde

To plesen hire in al my myht:

Be reson this wot every wyht,

For that mai be no weie asterte,

Ther sche is maister of the herte,

Sche mot be maister of the good.

For god wot wel that al my mod

And al min herte and al mi thoght

And al mi good, whil I have oght,

Als freliche as god hath it yive,

4770It schal ben hires, while I live,

Riht as hir list hirself commande.

So that it nedeth no demande,

To axe of me if I be scars

To love, for as to tho pars

I wole ansuere and seie no.

Mi Sone, that is riht wel do.

For often times of scarsnesse

It hath be sen, that for the lesse

Is lost the more, as thou schalt hiere

4780A tale lich to this matiere.

Skarsnesse and love acorden nevere,

For every thing is wel the levere,

Whan that a man hath boght it diere:

And forto speke in this matiere,

For sparinge of a litel cost

Fulofte time a man hath lost

The large cote for the hod.

What man that scars is of his good

And wol noght yive, he schal noght take:

4790With yifte a man mai undertake

The hihe god to plese and queme,

With yifte a man the world mai deme;

For every creature bore,

If thou him yive, is glad therfore,

And every gladschipe, as I finde,

Is confort unto loves kinde

And causeth ofte a man to spede.

So was he wys that ferst yaf mede,

For mede kepeth love in house;

4800Bot wher the men ben coveitouse

And sparen forto yive a part,

Thei knowe noght Cupides art:

For his fortune and his aprise

Desdeigneth alle coveitise

And hateth alle nygardie.

And forto loke of this partie,

A soth ensample, hou it is so,

I finde write of Babio;

Which hadde a love at his menage,

4810Ther was non fairere of hire age,

And hihte Viola be name;

Which full of youthe and ful of game

Was of hirself, and large and fre,

Bot such an other chinche as he

Men wisten noght in al the lond,

And hadde affaited to his hond

His servant, the which Spodius

Was hote. And in this wise thus

The worldes good of sufficance

4820Was had, bot likinge and plesance,

Of that belongeth to richesse

Of love, stod in gret destresse;

So that this yonge lusty wyht

Of thing which fell to loves riht

Was evele served overal,

That sche was wo bego withal,

Til that Cupide and Venus eke

A medicine for the seke

Ordeigne wolden in this cas.

4830So as fortune thanne was,

Of love upon the destine

It fell, riht as it scholde be,

A freissh, a fre, a frendly man

That noght of Avarice can,

Which Croceus be name hihte,

Toward this swete caste his sihte,

And ther sche was cam in presence.

Sche sih him large of his despence,

And amorous and glad of chiere,

4840So that hir liketh wel to hiere

The goodly wordes whiche he seide;

And therupon of love he preide,

Of love was al that he mente,

To love and for sche scholde assente,

He yaf hire yiftes evere among.

Bot for men sein that mede is strong,

It was wel seene at thilke tyde;

For as it scholde of ryht betyde,

This Viola largesce hath take

4850And the nygard sche hath forsake:

Of Babio sche wol no more,

For he was grucchende everemore,

Ther was with him non other fare

Bot forto prinche and forto spare,

Of worldes muk to gete encress.

So goth the wrecche loveles,

Bejaped for his Skarcete,

And he that large was and fre

And sette his herte to despende,

4860This Croceus, the bowe bende,

Which Venus tok him forto holde,

And schotte als ofte as evere he wolde.

Lo, thus departeth love his lawe,

That what man wol noght be felawe

To yive and spende, as I thee telle,

He is noght worthi forto duelle

In loves court to be relieved.

Forthi, my Sone, if I be lieved,

Thou schalt be large of thi despence.

4870Mi fader, in mi conscience

If ther be eny thing amis,

I wol amende it after this,

Toward mi love namely.

Mi Sone, wel and redely

Thou seist, so that wel paid withal

I am, and forthere if I schal

Unto thi schrifte specefie

Of Avarices progenie

What vice suieth after this,

4880Thou schalt have wonder hou it is,

Among the folk in eny regne

That such a vice myhte regne,

Which is comun at alle assaies,

As men mai finde nou adaies.

The vice lik unto the fend,

Which nevere yit was mannes frend,

And cleped is Unkindeschipe,

Of covine and of felaschipe

With Avarice he is withholde.

4890Him thenkth he scholde noght ben holde

Unto the moder which him bar;

Of him mai nevere man be war,

He wol noght knowe the merite,

For that he wolde it noght aquite;

Which in this world is mochel used,

And fewe ben therof excused.

To telle of him is endeles,

Bot this I seie natheles,

Wher as this vice comth to londe,

4900Ther takth noman his thonk on honde;

Thogh he with alle his myhtes serve,

He schal of him no thonk deserve.

He takth what eny man wol yive,

Bot whil he hath o day to live,

He wol nothing rewarde ayein;

He gruccheth forto yive o grein,

Wher he hath take a berne full.

That makth a kinde herte dull,

To sette his trust in such frendschipe,

4910Ther as he fint no kindeschipe;

And forto speke wordes pleine,

Thus hiere I many a man compleigne,

That nou on daies thou schalt finde

At nede fewe frendes kinde;

What thou hast don for hem tofore,

It is foryete, as it were lore.

The bokes speken of this vice,

And telle hou god of his justice,

Be weie of kinde and ek nature

4920And every lifissh creature,

The lawe also, who that it kan,

Thei dampnen an unkinde man.

It is al on to seie unkinde

As thing which don is ayein kinde,

For it with kinde nevere stod

A man to yelden evel for good.

For who that wolde taken hede,

A beste is glad of a good dede,

And loveth thilke creature

4930After the lawe of his nature

Which doth him ese. And forto se

Of this matiere Auctorite,

Fulofte time it hath befalle;

Wherof a tale amonges alle,

Which is of olde ensamplerie,

I thenke forto specefie.

To speke of an unkinde man,

I finde hou whilom Adrian,

Of Rome which a gret lord was,

4940Upon a day as he per cas

To wode in his huntinge wente,

It hapneth at a soudein wente,

After his chace as he poursuieth,

Thurgh happ, the which noman eschuieth,

He fell unwar into a pet,

Wher that it mihte noght be let.

The pet was dep and he fell lowe,

That of his men non myhte knowe

Wher he becam, for non was nyh,

4950Which of his fall the meschief syh.

And thus al one ther he lay

Clepende and criende al the day

For socour and deliverance,

Til ayein Eve it fell per chance,

A while er it began to nyhte,

A povere man, which Bardus hihte,

Cam forth walkende with his asse,

And hadde gadred him a tasse

Of grene stickes and of dreie

4960To selle, who that wolde hem beie,

As he which hadde no liflode,

Bot whanne he myhte such a lode

To toune with his Asse carie.

And as it fell him forto tarie

That ilke time nyh the pet,

And hath the trusse faste knet,

He herde a vois, which cride dimme,

And he his Ere to the brimme

Hath leid, and herde it was a man,

4970Which seide, “Ha, help hier Adrian,

And I wol yiven half mi good.”

The povere man this understod,

As he that wolde gladly winne,

And to this lord which was withinne

He spak and seide, “If I thee save,

What sikernesse schal I have

Of covenant, that afterward

Thou wolt me yive such reward

As thou behihtest nou tofore?”

4980That other hath his othes swore

Be hevene and be the goddes alle,

If that it myhte so befalle

That he out of the pet him broghte,

Of all the goodes whiche he oghte

He schal have evene halvendel.

This Bardus seide he wolde wel;

And with this word his Asse anon

He let untrusse, and therupon

Doun goth the corde into the pet,

4990To which he hath at ende knet

A staf, wherby, he seide, he wolde

That Adrian him scholde holde.

Bot it was tho per chance falle,

Into that pet was also falle

An Ape, which at thilke throwe,

Whan that the corde cam doun lowe,

Al sodeinli therto he skipte

And it in bothe hise armes clipte.

And Bardus with his Asse anon

5000Him hath updrawe, and he is gon.

But whan he sih it was an Ape,

He wende al hadde ben a jape

Of faierie, and sore him dradde:

And Adrian eftsone gradde

For help, and cride and preide faste,

And he eftsone his corde caste;

Bot whan it cam unto the grounde,

A gret Serpent it hath bewounde,

The which Bardus anon up drouh.

5010And thanne him thoghte wel ynouh,

It was fantosme, bot yit he herde

The vois, and he therto ansuerde,

“What wiht art thou in goddes name?”

“I am,” quod Adrian, “the same,

Whos good thou schalt have evene half.”

Quod Bardus, “Thanne a goddes half

The thridde time assaie I schal”:

And caste his corde forth withal

Into the pet, and whan it cam

5020To him, this lord of Rome it nam,

And therupon him hath adresced,

And with his hand fulofte blessed,

And thanne he bad to Bardus hale.

And he, which understod his tale,

Betwen him and his Asse al softe

Hath drawe and set him up alofte

Withouten harm al esely.

He seith noght ones “grant merci,”

Bot strauhte him forth to the cite,

5030And let this povere Bardus be.

And natheles this simple man

His covenant, so as he can,

Hath axed; and that other seide,

If so be that he him umbreide

Of oght that hath be speke or do,

It schal ben venged on him so,

That him were betre to be ded.

And he can tho non other red,

But on his asse ayein he caste

5040His trusse, and hieth homward faste:

And whan that he cam hom to bedde,

He tolde his wif hou that he spedde.

Bot finaly to speke oght more

Unto this lord he dradde him sore,

So that a word ne dorste he sein:

And thus upon the morwe ayein,

In the manere as I recorde,

Forth with his Asse and with his corde

To gadre wode, as he dede er,

5050He goth; and whan that he cam ner

Unto the place where he wolde,

He hath his Ape anon beholde,

Which hadde gadred al aboute

Of stickes hiere and there a route,

And leide hem redy to his hond,

Wherof he made his trosse and bond;

Fro dai to dai and in this wise

This Ape profreth his servise,

So that he hadde of wode ynouh.

5060Upon a time and as he drouh

Toward the wode, he sih besyde

The grete gastli Serpent glyde,

Til that sche cam in his presence,

And in hir kinde a reverence

Sche hath him do, and forth withal

A Ston mor briht than a cristall

Out of hir mouth tofore his weie

Sche let doun falle, and wente aweie,

For that he schal noght ben adrad.

5070Tho was this povere Bardus glad,

Thonkende god, and to the Ston

He goth an takth it up anon,

And hath gret wonder in his wit

Hou that the beste him hath aquit,

Wher that the mannes Sone hath failed,

For whom he hadde most travailed.

Bot al he putte in goddes hond,

And torneth hom, and what he fond

Unto his wif he hath it schewed;

5080And thei, that weren bothe lewed,

Acorden that he scholde it selle.

And he no lengere wolde duelle,

Bot forth anon upon the tale

The Ston he profreth to the sale;

And riht as he himself it sette,

The jueler anon forth fette

The gold and made his paiement,

Therof was no delaiement.

Thus whan this Ston was boght and sold,

5090Homward with joie manyfold

This Bardus goth; and whan he cam

Hom to his hous and that he nam

His gold out of his Purs, withinne

He fond his Ston also therinne,

Wherof for joie his herte pleide,

Unto his wif and thus he seide,

“Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi Ston!”

His wif hath wonder therupon,

And axeth him hou that mai be.

5100“Nou be mi trouthe I not,” quod he,

“Bot I dar swere upon a bok,

That to my Marchant I it tok,

And he it hadde whan I wente:

So knowe I noght to what entente

It is nou hier, bot it be grace.

Forthi tomorwe in other place

I wole it fonde forto selle,

And if it wol noght with him duelle,

Bot crepe into mi purs ayein,

5110Than dar I saufly swere and sein,

It is the vertu of the Ston.”

The morwe cam, and he is gon

To seche aboute in other stede

His Ston to selle, and he so dede,

And lefte it with his chapman there.

Bot whan that he cam elleswhere,

In presence of his wif at hom,

Out of his Purs and that he nom

His gold, he fond his Ston withal:

5120And thus it fell him overal,

Where he it solde in sondri place,

Such was the fortune and the grace.

Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd,

That it nys ate laste kidd:

This fame goth aboute Rome

So ferforth, that the wordes come

To themperour Justinian;

And he let sende for the man,

And axede him hou that it was.

5130And Bardus tolde him al the cas,

Hou that the worm and ek the beste,

Althogh thei maden no beheste,

His travail hadden wel aquit;

Bot he which hadde a mannes wit,

And made his covenant be mouthe

And swor therto al that he couthe

To parte and yiven half his good,

Hath nou foryete hou that it stod,

As he which wol no trouthe holde.

5140This Emperour al that he tolde

Hath herd, and thilke unkindenesse

He seide he wolde himself redresse.

And thus in court of juggement

This Adrian was thanne assent,

And the querele in audience

Declared was in the presence

Of themperour and many mo;

Wherof was mochel speche tho

And gret wondringe among the press.

5150Bot ate laste natheles

For the partie which hath pleigned

The lawe hath diemed and ordeigned

Be hem that were avised wel,

That he schal have the halvendel

Thurghout of Adrianes good.

And thus of thilke unkinde blod

Stant the memoire into this day,

Wherof that every wysman may

Ensamplen him, and take in mynde

5160What schame it is to ben unkinde;

Ayein the which reson debateth,

And every creature it hateth.

Forthi, mi Sone, in thin office

I rede fle that ilke vice.

For riht as the Cronique seith

Of Adrian, hou he his feith

Foryat for worldes covoitise,

Fulofte in such a maner wise

Of lovers nou a man mai se

5170Full manye that unkinde be:

For wel behote and evele laste

That is here lif; for ate laste,

Whan that thei have here wille do,

Here love is after sone ago.

What seist thou, Sone, to this cas?

Mi fader, I wol seie Helas,

That evere such a man was bore,

Which whan he hath his trouthe suore

And hath of love what he wolde,

5180That he at eny time scholde

Evere after in his herte finde

To falsen and to ben unkinde.

Bot, fader, as touchende of me,

I mai noght stonde in that degre;

For I tok nevere of love why,

That I ne mai wel go therby

And do my profit elles where,

For eny sped I finde there.

I dar wel thenken al aboute,

5190Bot I ne dar noght speke it oute;

And if I dorste, I wolde pleigne,

That sche for whom I soffre peine

And love hir evere aliche hote,

That nouther yive ne behote

In rewardinge of mi servise

It list hire in no maner wise.

I wol noght say that sche is kinde,

And forto sai sche is unkinde,

That dar I noght; bot god above,

5200Which demeth every herte of love,

He wot that on myn oghne side

Schal non unkindeschipe abide:

If it schal with mi ladi duelle,

Therof dar I nomore telle.

Nou, goode fader, as it is,

Tell me what thenketh you of this.

Mi Sone, of that unkindeschipe,

The which toward thi ladischipe

Thou pleignest, for sche wol thee noght,

5210Thou art to blamen of that thoght.

For it mai be that thi desir,

Thogh it brenne evere as doth the fyr,

Per cas to hire honour missit,

Or elles time com noght yit,

Which standt upon thi destine:

Forthi, mi Sone, I rede thee,

Thenk wel, what evere the befalle;

For noman hath his lustes alle.

Bot as thou toldest me before

5220That thou to love art noght forswore,

And hast don non unkindenesse,

Thou miht therof thi grace blesse:

And lef noght that continuance;

For ther mai be no such grevance

To love, as is unkindeschipe.

Wherof to kepe thi worschipe,

So as these olde bokes tale,

I schal thee telle a redi tale:

Nou herkne and be wel war therby,

5230For I wol telle it openly.

Mynos, as telleth the Poete,

The which whilom was king of Crete,

A Sone hadde and Androchee

He hihte: and so befell that he

Unto Athenes forto lere

Was send, and so he bar him there,

For that he was of hih lignage,

Such pride he tok in his corage,

That he foryeten hath the Scoles,

5240And in riote among the foles

He dede manye thinges wronge;

And useth thilke lif so longe,

Til ate laste of that he wroghte

He fond the meschief which he soghte,

Wherof it fell that he was slain.

His fader, which it herde sain,

Was wroth, and al that evere he mihte,

Of men of Armes he him dighte

A strong pouer, and forth he wente

5250Unto Athenys, where he brente

The pleine contre al aboute:

The Cites stode of him in doute,

As thei that no defence hadde

Ayein the pouer which he ladde.

Eges, which was there king,

His conseil tok upon this thing,

For he was thanne in the Cite:

So that of pes into tretee

Betwen Mynos and Eges

5260Thei felle, and ben acorded thus;

That king Mynos fro yer to yeere

Receive schal, as thou schalt here,

Out of Athenys for truage

Of men that were of myhti Age

Persones nyne, of whiche he schal

His wille don in special

For vengance of his Sones deth.

Non other grace ther ne geth,

Bot forto take the juise;

5270And that was don in such a wise,

Which stod upon a wonder cas.

For thilke time so it was,

Wherof that men yit rede and singe,

King Mynos hadde in his kepinge

A cruel Monstre, as seith the geste:

For he was half man and half beste,

And Minotaurus he was hote,

Which was begete in a riote

Upon Pasiphe, his oghne wif,

5280Whil he was oute upon the strif

Of thilke grete Siege at Troie.

Bot sche, which lost hath alle joie,

Whan that sche syh this Monstre bore,

Bad men ordeigne anon therfore:

And fell that ilke time thus,

Ther was a Clerk, on Dedalus,

Which hadde ben of hire assent

Of that hir world was so miswent;

And he made of his oghne wit,

5290Wherof the remembrance is yit,

For Minotaure such an hous,

Which was so strange and merveilous,

That what man that withinne wente,

Ther was so many a sondri wente,

That he ne scholde noght come oute,

But gon amased al aboute.

And in this hous to loke and warde

Was Minotaurus put in warde,

That what lif that therinne cam,

5300Or man or beste, he overcam

And slow, and fedde him therupon;

And in this wise many on

Out of Athenys for truage

Devoured weren in that rage.

For every yeer thei schope hem so,

Thei of Athenys, er thei go

Toward that ilke wofull chance,

As it was set in ordinance,

Upon fortune here lot thei caste;

5310Til that Theses ate laste,

Which was the kinges Sone there,

Amonges othre that ther were

In thilke yeer, as it befell,

The lot upon his chance fell.

He was a worthi kniht withalle;

And whan he sih this chance falle,

He ferde as thogh he tok non hiede,

Bot al that evere he mihte spiede,

With him and with his felaschipe

5320Forth into Crete he goth be Schipe;

Wher that the king Mynos he soghte,

And profreth all that he him oghte

Upon the point of here acord.

This sterne king, this cruel lord

Tok every day on of the Nyne,

And put him to the discipline

Of Minotaure, to be devoured;

Bot Theses was so favoured,

That he was kept til ate laste.

5330And in the meene while he caste

What thing him were best to do:

And fell that Adriagne tho,

Which was the dowhter of Mynos,

And hadde herd the worthi los

Of Theses and of his myht,

And syh he was a lusti kniht,

Hire hole herte on him sche leide,

And he also of love hir preide,

So ferforth that thei were al on.

5340And sche ordeigneth thanne anon

In what manere he scholde him save,

And schop so that sche dede him have

A clue of thred, of which withinne

Ferst ate dore he schal beginne

With him to take that on ende,

That whan he wolde ayeinward wende,

He mihte go the same weie.

And over this, so as I seie,

Of pich sche tok him a pelote,

5350The which he scholde into the throte

Of Minotaure caste rihte:

Such wepne also for him sche dighte,

That he be reson mai noght faile

To make an ende of his bataile;

For sche him tawhte in sondri wise,

Til he was knowe of thilke emprise,

Hou he this beste schulde quelle.

And thus, schort tale forto telle,

So as this Maide him hadde tawht,

5360Theses with this Monstre fawht,

Smot of his hed, the which he nam,

And be the thred, so as he cam,

He goth ayein, til he were oute.

Tho was gret wonder al aboute:

Mynos the tribut hath relessed,

And so was al the werre cessed

Betwen Athene and hem of Crete.

Bot now to speke of thilke suete,

Whos beaute was withoute wane,

5370This faire Maiden Adriane,

Whan that sche sih Theses sound,

Was nevere yit upon the ground

A gladder wyht that sche was tho.

Theses duelte a dai or tuo

Wher that Mynos gret chiere him dede:

Theses in a prive stede

Hath with this Maiden spoke and rouned,

That sche to him was abandouned

In al that evere that sche couthe,

5380So that of thilke lusty youthe

Al prively betwen hem tweie

The ferste flour he tok aweie.

For he so faire tho behihte

That evere, whil he live mihte,

He scholde hire take for his wif,

And as his oghne hertes lif

He scholde hire love and trouthe bere;

And sche, which mihte noght forbere,

So sore loveth him ayein,

5390That what as evere he wolde sein

With al hire herte sche believeth.

And thus his pourpos he achieveth,

So that assured of his trouthe

With him sche wente, and that was routhe.

Fedra hire yonger Soster eke,

A lusti Maide, a sobre, a meke,

Fulfild of alle curtesie,

For Sosterhode and compainie

Of love, which was hem betuene,

5400To sen hire Soster mad a queene,

Hire fader lefte and forth sche wente

With him, which al his ferste entente

Foryat withinne a litel throwe,

So that it was al overthrowe,

Whan sche best wende it scholde stonde.

The Schip was blowe fro the londe,

Wherin that thei seilende were;

This Adriagne hath mochel fere

Of that the wynd so loude bleu,

5410As sche which of the See ne kneu,

And preide forto reste a whyle.

And so fell that upon an yle,

Which Chyo hihte, thei ben drive,

Where he to hire his leve hath yive

That sche schal londe and take hire reste.

Bot that was nothing for the beste:

For whan sche was to londe broght,

Sche, which that time thoghte noght

Bot alle trouthe, and tok no kepe,

5420Hath leid hire softe forto slepe,

As sche which longe hath ben forwacched;

Bot certes sche was evele macched

And fer from alle loves kinde;

For more than the beste unkinde

Theses, which no trouthe kepte,

Whil that this yonge ladi slepte,

Fulfild of his unkindeschipe

Hath al foryete the goodschipe

Which Adriane him hadde do,

5430And bad unto the Schipmen tho

Hale up the seil and noght abyde,

And forth he goth the same tyde

Toward Athene, and hire alonde

He lefte, which lay nyh the stronde

Slepende, til that sche awok.

Bot whan that sche cast up hire lok

Toward the stronde and sih no wyht,

Hire herte was so sore aflyht,

That sche ne wiste what to thinke,

5440Bot drouh hire to the water brinke,

Wher sche behield the See at large.

Sche sih no Schip, sche sih no barge

Als ferforth as sche mihte kenne:

“Ha lord,” sche seide, “which a Senne,

As al the world schal after hiere,

Upon this woful womman hiere

This worthi kniht hath don and wroght!

I wende I hadde his love boght,

And so deserved ate nede,

5450Whan that he stod upon his drede,

And ek the love he me behihte.

It is gret wonder hou he mihte

Towardes me nou ben unkinde,

And so to lete out of his mynde

Thing which he seide his oghne mouth.

Bot after this whan it is couth

And drawe into the worldes fame,

It schal ben hindringe of his name:

For wel he wot and so wot I,

5460He yaf his trouthe bodily,

That he myn honour scholde kepe.”

And with that word sche gan to wepe,

And sorweth more than ynouh:

Hire faire tresces sche todrouh,

And with hirself tok such a strif,

That sche betwen the deth and lif

Swounende lay fulofte among.

And al was this on him along,

Which was to love unkinde so,

5470Wherof the wrong schal everemo

Stonde in Cronique of remembrance.

And ek it asketh a vengance

To ben unkinde in loves cas,

So as Theses thanne was,

Al thogh he were a noble kniht;

For he the lawe of loves riht

Forfeted hath in alle weie,

That Adriagne he putte aweie,

Which was a gret unkinde dede:

5480And after this, so as I rede,

Fedra, the which hir Soster is,

He tok in stede of hire, and this

Fel afterward to mochel teene.

For thilke vice of which I meene,

Unkindeschipe, where it falleth,

The trouthe of mannes herte it palleth,

That he can no good dede aquite:

So mai he stonde of no merite

Towardes god, and ek also

5490Men clepen him the worldes fo;

For he nomore than the fend

Unto non other man is frend,

Bot al toward himself al one.

Forthi, mi Sone, in thi persone

This vice above all othre fle.

Mi fader, as ye techen me,

I thenke don in this matiere.

Bot over this nou wolde I hiere,

Wherof I schal me schryve more.

5500Mi goode Sone, and for thi lore,

After the reule of coveitise

I schal the proprete devise

Of every vice by and by.

Nou herkne and be wel war therby.

In the lignage of Avarice,

Mi Sone, yit ther is a vice,

His rihte name it is Ravine,

Which hath a route of his covine.

Ravine among the maistres duelleth,

5510And with his servantz, as men telleth,

Extorcion is nou withholde:

Ravine of othre mennes folde

Makth his larder and paieth noght;

For wher as evere it mai be soght,

In his hous ther schal nothing lacke,

And that fulofte abyth the packe

Of povere men that duelle aboute.

Thus stant the comun poeple in doute,

Which can do non amendement;

5520For whanne him faileth paiement,

Ravine makth non other skile,

Bot takth be strengthe what he wile.

So ben ther in the same wise

Lovers, as I thee schal devise,

That whan noght elles mai availe,

Anon with strengthe thei assaile

And gete of love the sesine,

Whan thei se time, be Ravine.

Forthi, mi Sone, schrif thee hier,

5530If thou hast ben a Raviner

Of love. Certes, fader, no:

For I mi ladi love so,

That thogh I were as was Pompeie,

That al the world me wolde obeie,

Or elles such as Alisandre,

I wolde noght do such a sklaundre;

It is no good man, which so doth.

In good feith, Sone, thou seist soth:

For he that wole of pourveance

5540Be such a weie his lust avance,

He schal it after sore abie,

Bot if these olde ensamples lie.

Nou, goode fader, tell me on,

So as ye cunne manyon,

Touchende of love in this matiere.

Nou list, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere,

So as it hath befalle er this,

In loves cause hou that it is

A man to take be Ravine

5550The preie which is femeline.

Ther was a real noble king,

And riche of alle worldes thing,

Which of his propre enheritance

Athenes hadde in governance,

And who so thenke therupon,

His name was king Pandion.

Tuo douhtres hadde he be his wif,

The whiche he lovede as his lif;

The ferste douhter Progne hihte,

5560And the secounde, as sche wel mihte,

Was cleped faire Philomene,

To whom fell after mochel tene.

The fader of his pourveance

His doughter Progne wolde avance,

And yaf hire unto mariage

A worthi king of hih lignage,

A noble kniht eke of his hond,

So was he kid in every lond,

Of Trace he hihte Teres;

5570The clerk Ovide telleth thus.

This Teres his wif hom ladde,

A lusti lif with hire he hadde;

Til it befell upon a tyde,

This Progne, as sche lay him besyde,

Bethoughte hir hou it mihte be

That sche hir Soster myhte se,

And to hir lord hir will sche seide,

With goodly wordes and him preide

That sche to hire mihte go:

5580And if it liked him noght so,

That thanne he wolde himselve wende,

Or elles be som other sende,

Which mihte hire diere Soster griete,

And schape hou that thei mihten miete.

Hir lord anon to that he herde

Yaf his acord, and thus ansuerde:

“I wole,” he seide, “for thi sake

The weie after thi Soster take

Miself, and bringe hire, if I may.”

5590And sche with that, there as he lay,

Began him in hire armes clippe,

And kist him with hir softe lippe,

And seide, “Sire, grant mercy.”

And he sone after was redy,

And tok his leve forto go;

In sori time dede he so.

This Teres goth forth to Schipe

With him and with his felaschipe;

Be See the rihte cours he nam,

5600Into the contre til he cam,

Wher Philomene was duellinge,

And of hir Soster the tidinge

He tolde, and tho thei weren glade,

And mochel joie of him thei made.

The fader and the moder bothe

To leve here douhter weren lothe,

Bot if thei weren in presence;

And natheles at reverence

Of him, that wolde himself travaile,

5610Thei wolden noght he scholde faile

Of that he preide, and yive hire leve:

And sche, that wolde noght beleve,

In alle haste made hire yare

Toward hir Soster forto fare,

With Teres and forth sche wente.

And he with al his hole entente,

Whan sche was fro hir frendes go,

Assoteth of hire love so,

His yhe myhte he noght withholde,

5620That he ne moste on hir beholde;

And with the sihte he gan desire,

And sette his oghne herte on fyre;

And fyr, whan it to tow aprocheth,

To him anon the strengthe acrocheth,

Til with his hete it be devoured,

The tow ne mai noght be socoured.

And so that tirant raviner,

Whan that sche was in his pouer,

And he therto sawh time and place,

5630As he that lost hath alle grace,

Foryat he was a wedded man,

And in a rage on hire he ran,

Riht as a wolf which takth his preie.

And sche began to crie and preie,

“O fader, o mi moder diere,

Nou help!” Bot thei ne mihte it hiere,

And sche was of to litel myht

Defense ayein so ruide a knyht

To make, whanne he was so wod

5640That he no reson understod,

Bot hield hire under in such wise,

That sche ne myhte noght arise,

Bot lay oppressed and desesed,

As if a goshauk hadde sesed

A brid, which dorste noght for fere

Remue: and thus this tirant there

Beraft hire such thing as men sein

Mai neveremor be yolde ayein,

And that was the virginite:

5650Of such Ravine it was pite.

Bot whan sche to hirselven com,

And of hir meschief hiede nom,

And knew hou that sche was no maide,

With wofull herte thus sche saide,

“O thou of alle men the worste,

Wher was ther evere man that dorste

Do such a dede as thou hast do?

That dai schal falle, I hope so,

That I schal telle out al mi fille,

5660And with mi speche I schal fulfille

The wyde world in brede and lengthe.

That thou hast do to me be strengthe,

If I among the poeple duelle,

Unto the poeple I schal it telle;

And if I be withinne wall

Of Stones closed, thanne I schal

Unto the Stones clepe and crie,

And tellen hem thi felonie;

And if I to the wodes wende,

5670Ther schal I tellen tale and ende,

And crie it to the briddes oute,

That thei schul hiere it al aboute.

For I so loude it schal reherce,

That my vois schal the hevene perce,

That it schal soune in goddes Ere.

Ha, false man, where is thi fere?

O mor cruel than eny beste,

Hou hast thou holden thi beheste

Which thou unto my Soster madest?

5680O thou, which alle love ungladest,

And art ensample of alle untrewe,

Nou wolde god mi Soster knewe,

Of thin untrouthe, hou that it stod!”

And he than as a Lyon wod

With hise unhappi handes stronge

Hire cauhte be the tresses longe,

With whiche he bond ther bothe hire armes,

That was a fieble dede of armes,

And to the grounde anon hire caste,

5690And out he clippeth also faste

Hire tunge with a peire scheres.

So what with blod and what with teres

Out of hire yhe and of hir mouth,

He made hire faire face uncouth:

Sche lay swounende unto the deth,

Ther was unethes eny breth;

Bot yit whan he hire tunge refte,

A litel part therof belefte,

Bot sche with al no word mai soune,

5700Bot chitre and as a brid jargoune.

And natheles that wode hound

Hir bodi hent up fro the ground,

And sente hir there as be his wille

Sche scholde abyde in prison stille

For everemo: bot nou tak hiede

What after fell of this misdede.

Whanne al this meschief was befalle,

This Teres, that foule him falle,

Unto his contre hom he tyh;

5710And whan he com his paleis nyh,

His wif al redi there him kepte.

Whan he hir sih, anon he wepte,

And that he dede for deceite,

For sche began to axe him streite,

“Wher is mi Soster?” And he seide

That sche was ded; and Progne abreide,

As sche that was a wofull wif,

And stod betuen hire deth and lif,

Of that sche herde such tidinge:

5720Bot for sche sih hire lord wepinge,

She wende noght bot alle trouthe,

And hadde wel the more routhe.

The Perles weren tho forsake

To hire, and blake clothes take;

As sche that was gentil and kinde,

In worschipe of hir Sostres mynde

Sche made a riche enterement,

For sche fond non amendement

To syghen or to sobbe more:

5730So was ther guile under the gore.

Nou leve we this king and queene,

And torne ayein to Philomene,

As I began to tellen erst.

Whan sche cam into prison ferst,

It thoghte a kinges douhter strange

To maken so soudein a change

Fro welthe unto so grete a wo;

And sche began to thenke tho,

Thogh sche be mouthe nothing preide,

5740Withinne hir herte thus sche seide:

“O thou, almyhty Jupiter,

That hihe sist and lokest fer,

Thou soffrest many a wrong doinge,

And yit it is noght thi willinge.

To thee ther mai nothing ben hid,

Thou wost hou it is me betid:

I wolde I hadde noght be bore,

For thanne I hadde noght forlore

Mi speche and mi virginite.

5750Bot, goode lord, al is in thee,

Whan thou therof wolt do vengance

And schape mi deliverance.”

And evere among this ladi wepte,

And thoghte that sche nevere kepte

To ben a worldes womman more,

And that sche wissheth everemore.

Bot ofte unto hir Soster diere

Hire herte spekth in this manere,

And seide, “Ha, Soster, if ye knewe

5760Of myn astat, ye wolde rewe,

I trowe, and my deliverance

Ye wolde schape, and do vengance

On him that is so fals a man:

And natheles, so as I can,

I wol you sende som tokninge,

Wherof ye schul have knowlechinge

Of thing I wot, that schal you lothe,

The which you toucheth and me bothe.”

And tho withinne a whyle als tyt

5770Sche waf a cloth of Selk al whyt

With lettres and ymagerie,

In which was al the felonie,

Which Teres to hire hath do;

And lappede it togedre tho

And sette hir signet therupon

And sende it unto Progne anon.

The messager which forth it bar,

What it amonteth is noght war;

And natheles to Progne he goth

5780And prively takth hire the cloth,

And wente ayein riht as he cam,

The court of him non hiede nam.

Whan Progne of Philomene herde,

Sche wolde knowe hou that it ferde,

And opneth that the man hath broght,

And wot therby what hath be wroght

And what meschief ther is befalle.

In swoune tho sche gan doun falle,

And efte aros and gan to stonde,

5790And eft sche takth the cloth on honde,

Behield the lettres and thymages;

Bot ate laste, “Of suche oultrages,”

Sche seith, “wepinge is noght the bote:”

And swerth, if that sche live mote,

It schal be venged otherwise.

And with that sche gan hire avise

Hou ferst sche mihte unto hire winne

Hir Soster, that noman withinne,

Bot only thei that were suore,

5800It scholde knowe, and schop therfore

That Teres nothing it wiste;

And yit riht as hirselven liste,

Hir Soster was delivered sone

Out of prison, and be the mone

To Progne sche was broght be nyhte.

Whan ech of other hadde a sihte,

In chambre, ther thei were al one,

Thei maden many a pitous mone;

Bot Progne most of sorwe made,

5810Which sihe hir Soster pale and fade

And specheles and deshonoured,

Of that sche hadde be defloured;

And ek upon hir lord sche thoghte,

Of that he so untreuly wroghte

And hadde his espousaile broke.

Sche makth a vou it schal be wroke,

And with that word sche kneleth doun

Wepinge in gret devocioun:

Unto Cupide and to Venus

5820Sche preide, and seide thanne thus:

“O ye, to whom nothing asterte

Of love mai, for every herte

Ye knowe, as ye that ben above

The god and the goddesse of love;

Ye witen wel that evere yit

With al mi will and al my wit,

Sith ferst ye schopen me to wedde,

That I lay with mi lord abedde,

I have be trewe in mi degre,

5830And evere thoghte forto be,

And nevere love in other place,

Bot al only the king of Trace,

Which is mi lord and I his wif.

Bot nou allas this wofull strif!

That I him thus ayeinward finde

The most untrewe and most unkinde

That evere in ladi armes lay.

And wel I wot that he ne may

Amende his wrong, it is so gret;

5840For he to lytel of me let,

Whan he myn oughne Soster tok,

And me that am his wif forsok.”

Lo, thus to Venus and Cupide

Sche preide, and furthermor sche cride

Unto Appollo the hiheste,

And seide, “O myghti god of reste,

Thou do vengance of this debat.

Mi Soster and al hire astat

Thou wost, and hou sche hath forlore

5850Hir maidenhod, and I therfore

In al the world schal bere a blame

Of that mi Soster hath a schame,

That Teres to hire I sente:

And wel thou wost that myn entente

Was al for worschipe and for goode.

O lord, that yifst the lives fode

To every wyht, I prei thee hiere

Thes wofull Sostres that ben hiere,

And let ous noght to the ben lothe;

5860We ben thin oghne wommen bothe.”

Thus pleigneth Progne and axeth wreche,

And thogh hire Soster lacke speche,

To him that alle thinges wot

Hire sorwe is noght the lasse hot:

Bot he that thanne had herd hem tuo,

Him oughte have sorwed everemo

For sorwe which was hem betuene.

With signes pleigneth Philomene,

And Progne seith, “It schal be wreke,

5870That al the world therof schal speke.”

And Progne tho seknesse feigneth,

Wherof unto hir lord sche pleigneth,

And preith sche moste hire chambres kepe,

And as hir liketh wake and slepe.

And he hire granteth to be so;

And thus togedre ben thei tuo,

That wolde him bot a litel good.

Nou herk hierafter hou it stod

Of wofull auntres that befelle:

5880Thes Sostres, that ben bothe felle —

And that was noght on hem along,

Bot onliche on the grete wrong

Which Teres hem hadde do,-

Thei schopen forto venge hem tho.

This Teres be Progne his wif

A Sone hath, which as his lif

He loveth, and Ithis he hihte:

His moder wiste wel sche mihte

Do Teres no more grief

5890Than sle this child, which was so lief.

Thus sche, that was, as who seith, mad

Of wo, which hath hir overlad,

Withoute insihte of moderhede

Foryat pite and loste drede,

And in hir chambre prively

This child withouten noise or cry

Sche slou, and hieu him al to pieces:

And after with diverse spieces

The fleissh, whan it was so toheewe,

5900Sche takth, and makth therof a sewe,

With which the fader at his mete

Was served, til he hadde him ete;

That he ne wiste hou that it stod,

Bot thus his oughne fleissh and blod

Himself devoureth ayein kinde,

As he that was tofore unkinde.

And thanne, er that he were arise,

For that he scholde ben agrise,

To schewen him the child was ded,

5910This Philomene tok the hed

Betwen tuo disshes, and al wrothe

Tho comen forth the Sostres bothe,

And setten it upon the bord.

And Progne tho began the word,

And seide, “O werste of alle wicke,

Of conscience whom no pricke

Mai stere, lo, what thou hast do!

Lo, hier ben nou we Sostres tuo;

O Raviner, lo hier thi preie,

5920With whom so falsliche on the weie

Thou hast thi tirannye wroght.

Lo, nou it is somdel aboght,

And bet it schal, for of thi dede

The world schal evere singe and rede

In remembrance of thi defame:

For thou to love hast do such schame,

That it schal nevere be foryete.”

With that he sterte up fro the mete,

And schof the bord unto the flor,

5930And cauhte a swerd anon and suor

That thei scholde of his handes dye.

And thei unto the goddes crie

Begunne with so loude a stevene,

That thei were herd unto the hevene;

And in a twinclinge of an yhe

The goddes, that the meschief syhe,

Here formes changen alle thre.

Echon of hem in his degre

Was torned into briddes kinde;

5940Diverseliche, as men mai finde,

After thastat that thei were inne,

Here formes were set atwinne.

And as it telleth in the tale,

The ferst into a nyhtingale

Was schape, and that was Philomene,

Which in the wynter is noght sene,

For thanne ben the leves falle

And naked ben the buisshes alle.

For after that sche was a brid,

5950Hir will was evere to ben hid,

And forto duelle in prive place,

That noman scholde sen hir face

For schame, which mai noght be lassed,

Of thing that was tofore passed,

Whan that sche loste hir maidenhiede:

For evere upon hir wommanhiede,

Thogh that the goddes wolde hire change,

Sche thenkth, and is the more strange,

And halt hir clos the wyntres day.

5960Bot whan the wynter goth away,

And that Nature the goddesse

Wole of hir oughne fre largesse

With herbes and with floures bothe

The feldes and the medwes clothe,

And ek the wodes and the greves

Ben heled al with grene leves,

So that a brid hire hyde mai,

Betwen Averil and March and Maii,

Sche that the wynter hield hir clos,

5970For pure schame and noght aros,

Whan that sche seth the bowes thikke,

And that ther is no bare sticke,

Bot al is hid with leves grene,

To wode comth this Philomene

And makth hir ferste yeres flyht;

Wher as sche singeth day and nyht,

And in hir song al openly

Sche makth hir pleignte and seith, “O why,

O why ne were I yit a maide?”

5980For so these olde wise saide,

Which understoden what sche mente,

Hire notes ben of such entente.

And ek thei seide hou in hir song

Sche makth gret joie and merthe among,

And seith, “Ha, nou I am a brid,

Ha, nou mi face mai ben hid:

Thogh I have lost mi Maidenhede,

Schal noman se my chekes rede.”

Thus medleth sche with joie wo

5990And with hir sorwe merthe also,

So that of loves maladie

Sche makth diverse melodie,

And seith love is a wofull blisse,

A wisdom which can noman wisse,

A lusti fievere, a wounde softe:

This note sche reherceth ofte

To hem whiche understonde hir tale.

Nou have I of this nyhtingale,

Which erst was cleped Philomene,

6000Told al that evere I wolde mene,

Bothe of hir forme and of hir note,

Wherof men mai the storie note.

And of hir Soster Progne I finde,

Hou sche was torned out of kinde

Into a Swalwe swift of winge,

Which ek in wynter lith swounynge,

Ther as sche mai nothing be sene:

Bot whan the world is woxe grene

And comen is the Somertide,

6010Than fleth sche forth and ginth to chide,

And chitreth out in hir langage

What falshod is in mariage,

And telleth in a maner speche

Of Teres the Spousebreche.

Sche wol noght in the wodes duelle,

For sche wolde openliche telle;

And ek for that sche was a spouse,

Among the folk sche comth to house,

To do thes wyves understonde

6020The falshod of hire housebonde,

That thei of hem be war also,

For ther ben manye untrewe of tho.

Thus ben the Sostres briddes bothe,

And ben toward the men so lothe,

That thei ne wole of pure schame

Unto no mannes hand be tame;

For evere it duelleth in here mynde

Of that thei founde a man unkinde,

And that was false Teres.

6030If such on be amonges ous

I not, bot his condicion

Men sein in every region

Withinne toune and ek withoute

Nou regneth comunliche aboute.

And natheles in remembrance

I wol declare what vengance

The goddes hadden him ordeined,

Of that the Sostres hadden pleigned:

For anon after he was changed

6040And from his oghne kinde stranged,

A lappewincke mad he was,

And thus he hoppeth on the gras,

And on his hed ther stant upriht

A creste in tokne he was a kniht;

And yit unto this dai men seith,

A lappewincke hath lore his feith

And is the brid falseste of alle.

Bewar, mi Sone, er thee so falle;

For if thou be of such covine,

6050To gete of love be Ravine

Thi lust, it mai thee falle thus,

As it befell of Teres.

Mi fader, goddes forebode!

Me were levere be fortrode

With wilde hors and be todrawe,

Er I ayein love and his lawe

Dede eny thing or loude or stille,

Which were noght mi ladi wille.

Men sein that every love hath drede;

6060So folweth it that I hire drede,

For I hire love, and who so dredeth,

To plese his love and serve him nedeth.

Thus mai ye knowen be this skile

That no Ravine don I wile

Ayein hir will be such a weie;

Bot while I live, I wol obeie

Abidinge on hire courtesie,

If eny merci wolde hir plie.

Forthi, mi fader, as of this

6070I wot noght I have don amis:

Bot furthermore I you beseche,

Som other point that ye me teche,

And axeth forth, if ther be auht,

That I mai be the betre tauht.

Whan Covoitise in povere astat

Stant with himself upon debat

Thurgh lacke of his misgovernance,

That he unto his sustienance

Ne can non other weie finde

6080To gete him good, thanne as the blinde,

Which seth noght what schal after falle,

That ilke vice which men calle

Of Robberie, he takth on honde;

Wherof be water and be londe

Of thing which othre men beswinke

He get him cloth and mete and drinke.

Him reccheth noght what he beginne,

Thurgh thefte so that he mai winne:

Forthi to maken his pourchas

6090He lith awaitende on the pas,

And what thing that he seth ther passe,

He takth his part, or more or lasse,

If it be worthi to be take.

He can the packes wel ransake,

So prively berth non aboute

His gold, that he ne fint it oute,

Or other juel, what it be;

He takth it as his proprete.

In wodes and in feldes eke

6100Thus Robberie goth to seke,

Wher as he mai his pourpos finde.

And riht so in the same kinde,

My goode Sone, as thou miht hiere,

To speke of love in the matiere

And make a verrai resemblance,

Riht as a thief makth his chevance

And robbeth mennes good aboute

In wode and field, wher he goth oute,

So be ther of these lovers some,

6110In wylde stedes wher thei come

And finden there a womman able,

And therto place covenable,

Withoute leve, er that thei fare,

Thei take a part of that chaffare:

Yee, though sche were a Scheperdesse,

Yit wol the lord of wantounesse

Assaie, althogh sche be unmete,

For other mennes good is swete.

Bot therof wot nothing the wif

6120At hom, which loveth as hir lif

Hir lord, and sitt alday wisshinge

After hir lordes hom comynge:

Bot whan that he comth hom at eve,

Anon he makth his wif beleve,

For sche noght elles scholde knowe:

He telth hire hou his hunte hath blowe,

And hou his houndes have wel runne,

And hou ther schon a merye Sunne,

And hou his haukes flowen wel;

6130Bot he wol telle her nevere a diel

Hou he to love untrewe was,

Of that he robbede in the pas,

And tok his lust under the schawe

Ayein love and ayein his lawe.

Which thing, mi Sone, I thee forbede,

For it is an ungoodly dede.

For who that takth be Robberie

His love, he mai noght justefie

His cause, and so fulofte sithe

6140For ones that he hath be blithe

He schal ben after sory thries.

Ensample of suche Robberies

I finde write, as thou schalt hiere,

Acordende unto this matiere.

I rede hou whilom was a Maide,

The faireste, as Ovide saide,

Which was in hire time tho;

And sche was of the chambre also

Of Pallas, which is the goddesse

6150And wif to Marte, of whom prouesse

Is yove to these worthi knihtes.

For he is of so grete mihtes,

That he governeth the bataille;

Withouten him may noght availe

The stronge hond, bot he it helpe;

Ther mai no knyht of armes yelpe,

Bot he feihte under his banere.

Bot nou to speke of mi matiere,

This faire, freisshe, lusti mai,

6160Al one as sche wente on a dai

Upon the stronde forto pleie,

Ther cam Neptunus in the weie,

Which hath the See in governance;

And in his herte such plesance

He tok, whan he this Maide sih,

That al his herte aros on hih,

For he so sodeinliche unwar

Behield the beaute that sche bar.

And caste anon withinne his herte

6170That sche him schal no weie asterte,

Bot if he take in avantage

Fro thilke maide som pilage,

Noght of the broches ne the Ringes,

Bot of some othre smale thinges

He thoghte parte, er that sche wente;

And hire in bothe hise armes hente,

And putte his hond toward the cofre,

Wher forto robbe he made a profre,

That lusti tresor forto stele,

6180Which passeth othre goodes fele

And cleped is the maidenhede,

Which is the flour of wommanhede.

This Maiden, which Cornix be name

Was hote, dredende alle schame,

Sih that sche mihte noght debate,

And wel sche wiste he wolde algate

Fulfille his lust of Robberie,

Anon began to wepe and crie,

And seide, “O Pallas, noble queene,

6190Scheu nou thi myht and let be sene,

To kepe and save myn honour:

Help, that I lese noght mi flour,

Which nou under thi keie is loke.”

That word was noght so sone spoke,

Whan Pallas schop recoverir

After the will and the desir

Of hire, which a Maiden was,

And sodeinliche upon this cas

Out of hire wommanisshe kinde

6200Into a briddes like I finde

Sche was transformed forth withal,

So that Neptunus nothing stal

Of such thing as he wolde have stole.

With fetheres blake as eny cole

Out of hise armes in a throwe

Sche flih before his yhe a Crowe;

Which was to hire a more delit,

To kepe hire maidenhede whit

Under the wede of fethers blake,

6210In Perles whyte than forsake

That no lif mai restore ayein.

Bot thus Neptune his herte in vein

Hath upon Robberie sett;

The bridd is flowe and he was let,

The faire Maide him hath ascaped,

Wherof for evere he was bejaped

And scorned of that he hath lore.

Mi Sone, be thou war therfore

That thou no maidenhode stele,

6220Wherof men sen deseses fele

Aldai befalle in sondri wise;

So as I schal thee yit devise

An other tale therupon,

Which fell be olde daies gon.

King Lichaon upon his wif

A dowhter hadde, a goodly lif,

A clene Maide of worthi fame,

Calistona whos rihte name

Was cleped, and of many a lord

6230Sche was besoght, bot hire acord

To love myhte noman winne,

As sche which hath no lust therinne;

Bot swor withinne hir herte and saide

That sche wolde evere ben a Maide.

Wherof to kepe hireself in pes,

With suche as Amadriades

Were cleped, wodemaydes, tho,

And with the Nimphes ek also

Upon the spring of freisshe welles

6240Sche schop to duelle and nagher elles.

And thus cam this Calistona

Into the wode of Tegea,

Wher sche virginite behihte

Unto Diane, and therto plihte

Her trouthe upon the bowes grene,

To kepe hir maidenhode clene.

Which afterward upon a day

Was priveliche stole away;

For Jupiter thurgh his queintise

6250From hire it tok in such a wise,

That sodeinliche forth withal

Hire wombe aros and sche toswal,

So that it mihte noght ben hidd.

And therupon it is betidd,

Diane, which it herde telle,

In prive place unto a welle

With Nimphes al a compainie

Was come, and in a ragerie

Sche seide that sche bathe wolde,

6260And bad that every maide scholde

With hire al naked bathe also.

And tho began the prive wo,

Calistona wax red for schame;

Bot thei that knewe noght the game,

To whom no such thing was befalle,

Anon thei made hem naked alle,

As thei that nothing wolden hyde:

Bot sche withdrouh hire evere asyde,

And natheles into the flod,

6270Wher that Diane hirselve stod,

Sche thoghte come unaperceived.

Bot therof sche was al deceived;

For whan sche cam a litel nyh,

And that Diane hire wombe syh,

Sche seide, “Awey, thou foule beste,

For thin astat is noght honeste

This chaste water forto touche;

For thou hast take such a touche,

Which nevere mai ben hol ayein.”

6280And thus goth sche which was forlein

With schame, and fro the Nimphes fledde,

Til whanne that nature hire spedde,

That of a Sone, which Archas

Was named, sche delivered was.

And tho Juno, which was the wif

Of Jupiter, wroth and hastif,

In pourpos forto do vengance

Cam forth upon this ilke chance,

And to Calistona sche spak,

6290And sette upon hir many a lak,

And seide, “Ha, nou thou art atake,

That thou thi werk myht noght forsake.

Ha, thou ungoodlich ypocrite,

Hou thou art gretly forto wyte!

Bot nou thou schalt ful sore abie

That ilke stelthe and micherie,

Which thou hast bothe take and do;

Wherof thi fader Lichao

Schal noght be glad, whan he it wot,

6300Of that his dowhter was so hot,

That sche hath broke hire chaste avou.

Bot I thee schal chastise nou;

Thi grete beaute schal be torned,

Thurgh which that thou hast be mistorned,

Thi large frount, thin yhen greie,

I schal hem change in other weie,

And al the feture of thi face

In such a wise I schal deface,

That every man thee schal forbere.”

6310With that the liknesse of a bere

Sche tok and was forschape anon.

Withinne a time and therupon

Befell that with a bowe on honde,

To hunte and gamen forto fonde,

Into that wode goth to pleie

Hir Sone Archas, and in his weie

It hapneth that this bere cam.

And whan that sche good hiede nam,

Wher that he stod under the bowh,

6320Sche kneu him wel and to him drouh;

For thogh sche hadde hire forme lore,

The love was noght lost therfore

Which kinde hath set under his lawe.

Whan sche under the wodesschawe

Hire child behield, sche was so glad,

That sche with bothe hire armes sprad,

As thogh sche were in wommanhiede,

Toward him cam, and tok non hiede

Of that he bar a bowe bent.

6330And he with that an Arwe hath hent

And gan to teise it in his bowe,

As he that can non other knowe,

Bot that it was a beste wylde.

Bot Jupiter, which wolde schylde

The Moder and the Sone also,

Ordeineth for hem bothe so,

That thei for evere were save.

Bot thus, mi Sone, thou myht have

Ensample, hou that it is to fle

6340To robbe the virginite

Of a yong innocent aweie:

And overthis be other weie,

In olde bokes as I rede,

Such Robberie is forto drede,

And nameliche of thilke good

Which every womman that is good

Desireth forto kepe and holde,

As whilom was be daies olde.

For if thou se mi tale wel

6350Of that was tho, thou miht somdiel

Of old ensample taken hiede,

Hou that the flour of maidenhiede

Was thilke time holde in pris.

And so it was, and so it is,

And so it schal for evere stonde:

And for thou schalt it understonde,

Nou herkne a tale next suiende,

Hou maidenhod is to commende.

Of Rome among the gestes olde

6360I finde hou that Valerie tolde

That what man tho was Emperour

Of Rome, he scholde don honour

To the virgine, and in the weie,

Wher he hire mette, he scholde obeie

In worschipe of virginite,

Which tho was of gret dignite.

Noght onliche of the wommen tho,

Bot of the chaste men also

It was commended overal:

6370And forto speke in special

Touchende of men, ensample I finde,

Phyryns, which was of mannes kinde

Above alle othre the faireste

Of Rome and ek the comelieste,

That wel was hire which him mihte

Beholde and have of him a sihte.

Thus was he tempted ofte sore;

Bot for he wolde be nomore

Among the wommen so coveited,

6380The beaute of his face streited

He hath, and threste out bothe hise yhen,

That alle wommen whiche him syhen

Thanne afterward, of him ne roghte:

And thus his maidehiede he boghte.

So mai I prove wel forthi,

Above alle othre under the Sky,

Who that the vertus wolde peise,

Virginite is forto preise,

Which, as thapocalips recordeth,

6390To Crist in hevene best acordeth.

So mai it schewe wel therfore,

As I have told it hier tofore,

In hevene and ek in Erthe also

It is accept to bothe tuo.

And if I schal more over this

Declare what this vertu is,

I finde write upon this thing

Of Valentinian the king

And Emperour be thilke daies,

6400A worthi knyht at alle assaies,

Hou he withoute Mariage

Was of an hundred wynter Age,

And hadde ben a worthi kniht

Bothe of his lawe and of his myht.

Bot whan men wolde his dedes peise

And his knyhthode of Armes preise,

Of that he dede with his hondes,

Whan he the kinges and the londes

To his subjeccion put under,

6410Of al that pris hath he no wonder,

For he it sette of non acompte,

And seide al that may noght amonte

Ayeins o point which he hath nome,

That he his fleissh hath overcome:

He was a virgine, as he seide;

On that bataille his pris he leide.

Lo nou, my Sone, avise thee.

Yee, fader, al this wel mai be,

Bot if alle othre dede so,

6420The world of men were sone go:

And in the lawe a man mai finde,

Hou god to man be weie of kinde

Hath set the world to multeplie;

And who that wol him justefie,

It is ynouh to do the lawe.

And natheles youre goode sawe

Is good to kepe, who so may,

I wol noght therayein seie nay.

Mi Sone, take it as I seie;

6430If maidenhod be take aweie

Withoute lawes ordinance,

It mai noght failen of vengance.

And if thou wolt the sothe wite,

Behold a tale which is write,

Hou that the King Agamenon,

Whan he the Cite of Lesbon

Hath wonne, a Maiden ther he fond,

Which was the faireste of the Lond

In thilke time that men wiste.

6440He tok of hire what him liste

Of thing which was most precious,

Wherof that sche was dangerous.

This faire Maiden cleped is

Criseide, douhter of Crisis,

Which was that time in special

Of thilke temple principal,

Wher Phebus hadde his sacrifice,

So was it wel the more vice.

Agamenon was thanne in weie

6450To Troieward, and tok aweie

This Maiden, which he with him ladde,

So grete a lust in hire he hadde.

Bot Phebus, which hath gret desdeign

Of that his Maiden was forlein,

Anon as he to Troie cam,

Vengance upon this dede he nam

And sende a comun pestilence.

Thei soghten thanne here evidence

And maden calculacion,

6460To knowe in what condicion

This deth cam in so sodeinly;

And ate laste redyly

The cause and ek the man thei founde:

And forth withal the same stounde

Agamenon opposed was,

Which hath beknowen al the cas

Of the folie which he wroghte.

And therupon mercy thei soghte

Toward the god in sondri wise

6470With preiere and with sacrifise,

The Maide and hom ayein thei sende,

And yive hire good ynouh to spende

For evere whil sche scholde live:

And thus the Senne was foryive

And al the pestilence cessed.

Lo, what it is to ben encressed

Of love which is evele wonne.

It were betre noght begonne

Than take a thing withoute leve,

6480Which thou most after nedes leve,

And yit have malgre forth withal.

Forthi to robben overal

In loves cause if thou beginne,

I not what ese thou schalt winne.

Mi Sone, be wel war of this,

For thus of Robberie it is.

Mi fader, youre ensamplerie

In loves cause of Robberie

I have it riht wel understonde.

6490Bot overthis, hou so it stonde,

Yit wolde I wite of youre aprise

What thing is more of Covoitise.

With Covoitise yit I finde

A Servant of the same kinde,

Which Stelthe is hote, and Mecherie

With him is evere in compainie.

Of whom if I schal telle soth,

He stalketh as a Pocok doth,

And takth his preie so covert,

6500That noman wot it in apert.

For whan he wot the lord from home,

Than wol he stalke aboute and rome;

And what thing he fint in his weie,

Whan that he seth the men aweie,

He stelth it and goth forth withal,

That therof noman knowe schal.

And ek fulofte he goth a nyht

Withoute Mone or sterreliht,

And with his craft the dore unpiketh,

6510And takth therinne what him liketh:

And if the dore be so schet,

That he be of his entre let,

He wole in ate wyndou crepe,

And whil the lord is faste aslepe,

He stelth what thing as him best list,

And goth his weie er it be wist.

Fulofte also be lyhte of day

Yit wole he stele and make assay;

Under the cote his hond he put,

6520Til he the mannes Purs have cut,

And rifleth that he fint therinne.

And thus he auntreth him to winne,

And berth an horn and noght ne bloweth,

For noman of his conseil knoweth;

What he mai gete of his Michinge,

It is al bile under the winge.

And as an hound that goth to folde

And hath ther taken what he wolde,

His mouth upon the gras he wypeth,

6530And so with feigned chiere him slypeth,

That what as evere of schep he strangle,

Ther is noman therof schal jangle,

As forto knowen who it dede;

Riht so doth Stelthe in every stede,

Where as him list his preie take.

He can so wel his cause make

And so wel feigne and so wel glose,

That ther ne schal noman suppose,

Bot that he were an innocent,

6540And thus a mannes yhe he blent:

So that this craft I mai remene

Withouten help of eny mene.

Ther be lovers of that degre,

Which al here lust in privete,

As who seith, geten al be Stelthe,

And ofte atteignen to gret welthe

As for the time that it lasteth.

For love awaiteth evere and casteth

Hou he mai stele and cacche his preie,

6550Whan he therto mai finde a weie:

For be it nyht or be it day,

He takth his part, whan that he may,

And if he mai nomore do,

Yit wol he stele a cuss or tuo.

Mi Sone, what seist thou therto?

Tell if thou dedest evere so.

Mi fader, hou? Mi Sone, thus,-

If thou hast stolen eny cuss

Or other thing which therto longeth,

6560For noman suche thieves hongeth:

Tell on forthi and sei the trouthe.

Mi fader, nay, and that is routhe,

For be mi will I am a thief;

Bot sche that is to me most lief,

Yit dorste I nevere in privete

Noght ones take hire be the kne,

To stele of hire or this or that,

And if I dorste, I wot wel what:

And natheles, bot if I lie,

6570Be Stelthe ne be Robberie

Of love, which fell in mi thoght,

To hire dede I nevere noght.

Bot as men sein, wher herte is failed,

Ther schal no castell ben assailed;

Bot thogh I hadde hertes ten,

And were als strong as alle men,

If I be noght myn oghne man

And dar noght usen that I can,

I mai miselve noght recovere.

6580Thogh I be nevere man so povere,

I bere an herte and hire it is,

So that me faileth wit in this,

Hou that I scholde of myn acord

The servant lede ayein the lord:

For if mi fot wolde awher go,

Or that min hand wolde elles do,

Whan that myn herte is therayein,

The remenant is al in vein.

And thus me lacketh alle wele,

6590And yit ne dar I nothing stele

Of thing which longeth unto love:

And ek it is so hyh above,

I mai noght wel therto areche,

Bot if so be at time of speche,

Ful selde if thanne I stele may

A word or tuo and go my way.

Betwen hire hih astat and me

Comparison ther mai non be,

So that I fiele and wel I wot,

6600Al is to hevy and to hot

To sette on hond withoute leve:

And thus I mot algate leve

To stele that I mai noght take,

And in this wise I mot forsake

To ben a thief ayein mi wille

Of thing which I mai noght fulfille.

For that Serpent which nevere slepte

The flees of gold so wel ne kepte

In Colchos, as the tale is told,

6610That mi ladi a thousendfold

Nys betre yemed and bewaked,

Wher sche be clothed or be naked.

To kepe hir bodi nyht and day,

Sche hath a wardein redi ay,

Which is so wonderful a wyht,

That him ne mai no mannes myht

With swerd ne with no wepne daunte,

Ne with no sleihte of charme enchaunte,

Wherof he mihte be mad tame,

6620And Danger is his rihte name;

Which under lock and under keie,

That noman mai it stele aweie,

Hath al the Tresor underfonge

That unto love mai belonge.

The leste lokinge of hire yhe

Mai noght be stole, if he it syhe;

And who so gruccheth for so lyte,

He wolde sone sette a wyte

On him that wolde stele more.

6630And that me grieveth wonder sore,

For this proverbe is evere newe,

That stronge lokes maken trewe

Of hem that wolden stele and pyke:

For so wel can ther noman slyke

Be him ne be non other mene,

To whom Danger wol yive or lene

Of that tresor he hath to kepe.

So thogh I wolde stalke and crepe,

And wayte on eve and ek on morwe,

6640Of Danger schal I nothing borwe,

And stele I wot wel may I noght:

And thus I am riht wel bethoght,

Whil Danger stant in his office,

Of Stelthe, which ye clepe a vice,

I schal be gultif neveremo.

Therfore I wolde he were ago

So fer that I nevere of him herde,

Hou so that afterward it ferde:

For thanne I mihte yit per cas

6650Of love make som pourchas

Be Stelthe or be som other weie,

That nou fro me stant fer aweie.

Bot, fader, as ye tolde above,

Hou Stelthe goth a nyht for love,

I mai noght wel that point forsake,

That ofte times I ne wake

On nyhtes, whan that othre slepe;

Bot hou, I prei you taketh kepe.

Whan I am loged in such wise

6660That I be nyhte mai arise,

At som wyndowe and loken oute

And se the housinge al aboute,

So that I mai the chambre knowe

In which mi ladi, as I trowe,

Lyth in hir bed and slepeth softe,

Thanne is myn herte a thief fulofte:

For there I stonde to beholde

The longe nyhtes that ben colde,

And thenke on hire that lyth there.

6670And thanne I wisshe that I were

Als wys as was Nectanabus

Or elles as was Prothes,

That couthen bothe of nigromaunce

In what liknesse, in what semblaunce,

Riht as hem liste, hemself transforme:

For if I were of such a forme,

I seie thanne I wolde fle

Into the chambre forto se

If eny grace wolde falle,

6680So that I mihte under the palle

Som thing of love pyke and stele.

And thus I thenke thoghtes fele,

And thogh therof nothing be soth,

Yit ese as for a time it doth:

Bot ate laste whanne I finde

That I am falle into my mynde,

And se that I have stonde longe

And have no profit underfonge,

Than stalke I to mi bedd withinne.

6690And this is al that evere I winne

Of love, whanne I walke on nyht:

Mi will is good, bot of mi myht

Me lacketh bothe and of mi grace;

For what so that mi thoght embrace,

Yit have I noght the betre ferd.

Mi fader, lo, nou have ye herd

What I be Stelthe of love have do,

And hou mi will hath be therto:

If I be worthi to penance

6700I put it on your ordinance.

Mi Sone, of Stelthe I the behiete,

Thogh it be for a time swete,

At ende it doth bot litel good,

As be ensample hou that it stod

Whilom, I mai thee telle nou.

I preie you, fader, sei me hou.

Mi Sone, of him which goth be daie

Be weie of Stelthe to assaie,

In loves cause and takth his preie,

6710Ovide seide as I schal seie,

And in his Methamor he tolde

A tale, which is good to holde.

The Poete upon this matiere

Of Stelthe wrot in this manere.

Venus, which hath this lawe in honde

Of thing which mai noght be withstonde,

As sche which the tresor to warde

Of love hath withinne hir warde,

Phebum to love hath so constreigned,

6720That he withoute reste is peined

With al his herte to coveite

A Maiden, which was warded streyte

Withinne chambre and kept so clos,

That selden was whan sche desclos

Goth with hir moder forto pleie.

Leuchotoe, so as men seie,

This Maiden hihte, and Orchamus

Hir fader was; and befell thus.

This doughter, that was kept so deere,

6730And hadde be fro yer to yeere

Under hir moder discipline

A clene Maide and a Virgine,

Upon the whos nativite

Of comelihiede and of beaute

Nature hath set al that sche may,

That lich unto the fresshe Maii,

Which othre monthes of the yeer

Surmonteth, so withoute pier

Was of this Maiden the feture.

6740Wherof Phebus out of mesure

Hire loveth, and on every syde

Awaiteth, if so mai betyde,

That he thurgh eny sleihte myhte

Hire lusti maidenhod unrihte,

The which were al his worldes welthe.

And thus lurkende upon his stelthe

In his await so longe he lai,

Til it befell upon a dai,

That he thurghout hir chambre wall

6750Cam in al sodeinliche, and stall

That thing which was to him so lief.

Bot wo the while, he was a thief!

For Venus, which was enemie

Of thilke loves micherie,

Discovereth al the pleine cas

To Clymene, which thanne was

Toward Phebus his concubine.

And sche to lette the covine

Of thilke love, dedli wroth

6760To pleigne upon this Maide goth,

And tolde hire fader hou it stod;

Wherof for sorwe welnyh wod

Unto hire moder thus he saide:

“Lo, what it is to kepe a Maide!

To Phebus dar I nothing speke,

Bot upon hire I schal be wreke,

So that these Maidens after this

Mow take ensample, what it is

To soffre her maidenhed be stole,

6770Wherof that sche the deth schal thole.”

And bad with that do make a pet,

Wherinne he hath his douhter set,

As he that wol no pite have,

So that sche was al quik begrave

And deide anon in his presence.

Bot Phebus, for the reverence

Of that sche hadde be his love,

Hath wroght thurgh his pouer above,

That sche sprong up out of the molde

6780Into a flour was named golde,

Which stant governed of the Sonne.

And thus whan love is evele wonne,

Fulofte it comth to repentaile.

Mi fader, that is no mervaile,

Whan that the conseil is bewreid.

Bot ofte time love hath pleid

And stole many a prive game,

Which nevere yit cam into blame,

Whan that the thinges weren hidde.

6790Bot in youre tale, as it betidde,

Venus discoverede al the cas,

And ek also brod dai it was,

Whan Phebus such a Stelthe wroghte,

Wherof the Maide in blame he broghte,

That afterward sche was so lore.

Bot for ye seiden nou tofore

Hou stelthe of love goth be nyhte,

And doth hise thinges out of syhte,

Therof me liste also to hiere

6800A tale lich to the matiere,

Wherof I myhte ensample take.

Mi goode Sone, and for thi sake,

So as it fell be daies olde,

And so as the Poete it tolde,

Upon the nyhtes micherie

Nou herkne a tale of Poesie.

The myhtieste of alle men

Whan Hercules with Eolen,

Which was the love of his corage,

6810Togedre upon a Pelrinage

Towardes Rome scholden go,

It fell hem be the weie so,

That thei upon a dai a Cave

Withinne a roche founden have,

Which was real and glorious

And of Entaile curious,

Be name and Thophis it was hote.

The Sonne schon tho wonder hote,

As it was in the Somer tyde;

6820This Hercules, which be his syde

Hath Eolen his love there,

Whan thei at thilke cave were,

He seide it thoghte him for the beste

That sche hire for the hete reste

Al thilke day and thilke nyht;

And sche, that was a lusti wyht,

It liketh hire al that he seide:

And thus thei duelle there and pleide

The longe dai. And so befell,

6830This Cave was under the hell

Of Tymolus, which was begrowe

With vines, and at thilke throwe

Faunus with Saba the goddesse,

Be whom the large wildernesse

In thilke time stod governed,

Weere in a place, as I am lerned,

Nyh by, which Bachus wode hihte.

This Faunus tok a gret insihte

Of Eolen, that was so nyh;

6840For whan that he hire beaute syh,

Out of his wit he was assoted,

And in his herte it hath so noted,

That he forsok the Nimphes alle,

And seide he wolde, hou so it falle,

Assaie an other forto winne;

So that his hertes thoght withinne

He sette and caste hou that he myhte

Of love pyke awey be nyhte

That he be daie in other wise

6850To stele mihte noght suffise:

And therupon his time he waiteth.

Nou tak good hiede hou love afaiteth

Him which withal is overcome.

Faire Eolen, whan sche was come

With Hercules into the Cave,

Sche seide him that sche wolde have

Hise clothes of and hires bothe,

That ech of hem scholde other clothe.

And al was do riht as sche bad,

6860He hath hire in hise clothes clad

And caste on hire his gulion,

Which of the Skyn of a Leoun

Was mad, as he upon the weie

It slouh, and overthis to pleie

Sche tok his grete Mace also

And knet it at hir gerdil tho.

So was sche lich the man arraied,

And Hercules thanne hath assaied

To clothen him in hire array:

6870And thus thei jape forth the dai,

Til that her Souper redy were.

And whan thei hadden souped there,

Thei schopen hem to gon to reste;

And as it thoghte hem for the beste,

Thei bede, as for that ilke nyht,

Tuo sondri beddes to be dyht,

For thei togedre ligge nolde,

Be cause that thei offre wolde

Upon the morwe here sacrifice.

6880The servantz deden here office

And sondri beddes made anon,

Wherin that thei to reste gon

Ech be himself in sondri place.

Faire Eole hath set the Mace

Beside hire beddes hed above,

And with the clothes of hire love

Sche helede al hire bed aboute;

And he, which hadde of nothing doute,

Hire wympel wond aboute his cheke,

6890Hire kertell and hire mantel eke

Abrod upon his bed he spredde.

And thus thei slepen bothe abedde;

And what of travail, what of wyn,

The servantz lich to drunke Swyn

Begunne forto route faste.

This Faunus, which his Stelthe caste,

Was thanne come to the Cave,

And fond thei weren alle save

Withoute noise, and in he wente.

6900The derke nyht his sihte blente,

And yit it happeth him to go

Where Eolen abedde tho

Was leid al one for to slepe;

Bot for he wolde take kepe

Whos bed it was, he made assai,

And of the Leoun, where it lay,

The Cote he fond, and ek he fieleth

The Mace, and thanne his herte kieleth,

That there dorste he noght abyde,

6910Bot stalketh upon every side

And soghte aboute with his hond,

That other bedd til that he fond,

Wher lai bewympled a visage.

Tho was he glad in his corage,

For he hir kertell fond also

And ek hir mantell bothe tuo

Bespred upon the bed alofte.

He made him naked thanne, and softe

Into the bedd unwar he crepte,

6920Wher Hercules that time slepte,

And wende wel it were sche;

And thus in stede of Eole

Anon he profreth him to love.

But he, which felte a man above,

This Hercules, him threw to grounde

So sore, that thei have him founde

Liggende there upon the morwe;

And tho was noght a litel sorwe,

That Faunus of himselve made,

6930Bot elles thei were alle glade

And lowhen him to scorne aboute:

Saba with Nimphis al a route

Cam doun to loke hou that he ferde,

And whan that thei the sothe herde,

He was bejaped overal.

Mi Sone, be thou war withal

To seche suche mecheries,

Bot if thou have the betre aspies,

In aunter if the so betyde

6940As Faunus dede thilke tyde,

Wherof thou miht be schamed so.

Min holi fader, certes no.

Bot if I hadde riht good leve,

Such mecherie I thenke leve:

Mi feinte herte wol noght serve;

For malgre wolde I noght deserve

In thilke place wher I love.

Bot for ye tolden hier above

Of Covoitise and his pilage,

6950If ther be more of that lignage,

Which toucheth to mi schrifte, I preie

That ye therof me wolde seie,

So that I mai the vice eschuie.

Mi Sone, if I be order suie

The vices, as thei stonde arowe,

Of Covoitise thou schalt knowe

Ther is yit on, which is the laste;

In whom ther mai no vertu laste,

For he with god himself debateth,

6960Wherof that al the hevene him hateth.

The hihe god, which alle goode

Pourveied hath for mannes fode

Of clothes and of mete and drinke,

Bad Adam that he scholde swinke

To geten him his sustienance:

And ek he sette an ordinance

Upon the lawe of Moi5ses,

That though a man be haveles,

Yit schal he noght be thefte stele.

6970Bot nou adaies ther ben fele,

That wol no labour undertake,

Bot what thei mai be Stelthe take

Thei holde it sikerliche wonne.

And thus the lawe is overronne,

Which god hath set, and namely

With hem that so untrewely

The goodes robbe of holi cherche.

The thefte which thei thanne werche

Be name is cleped Sacrilegge,

6980Ayein the whom I thenke alegge.

Of his condicion to telle,

Which rifleth bothe bok and belle,

So forth with al the remenant

To goddes hous appourtenant,

Wher that he scholde bidde his bede,

He doth his thefte in holi stede,

And takth what thing he fint therinne:

For whan he seth that he mai winne,

He wondeth for no cursednesse,

6990That he ne brekth the holinesse

And doth to god no reverence;

For he hath lost his conscience,

That though the Prest therfore curse,

He seith he fareth noght the wurse.

And forto speke it otherwise,

What man that lasseth the franchise

And takth of holi cherche his preie,

I not what bedes he schal preie.

Whan he fro god, which hath yive al,

7000The Pourpartie in special,

Which unto Crist himself is due,

Benymth, he mai noght wel eschue

The peine comende afterward;

For he hath mad his foreward

With Sacrilegge forto duelle,

Which hath his heritage in helle.

And if we rede of tholde lawe,

I finde write, in thilke dawe

Of Princes hou ther weren thre

7010Coupable sore in this degre.

That on of hem was cleped thus,

The proude king Antiochus;

That other Nabuzardan hihte,

Which of his crualte behyhte

The temple to destruie and waste,

And so he dede in alle haste;

The thridde, which was after schamed,

Was Nabugodonosor named,

And he Jerusalem putte under,

7020Of Sacrilegge and many a wonder

There in the holi temple he wroghte,

Which Baltazar his heir aboghte,

Whan Mane, Techel, Phares write

Was on the wal, as thou miht wite,

So as the bible it hath declared.

Bot for al that it is noght spared

Yit nou aday, that men ne pile,

And maken argument and skile

To Sacrilegge as it belongeth,

7030For what man that ther after longeth,

He takth non hiede what he doth.

And riht so, forto telle soth,

In loves cause if I schal trete,

Ther ben of suche smale and grete:

If thei no leisir fynden elles,

Thei wol noght wonden for the belles,

Ne thogh thei sen the Prest at masse;

That wol thei leten overpasse.

If that thei finde here love there,

7040Thei stonde and tellen in hire Ere,

And axe of god non other grace,

Whyl thei ben in that holi place;

Bot er thei gon som avantage

Ther wol thei have, and som pilage

Of goodli word or of beheste,

Or elles thei take ate leste

Out of hir hand or ring or glove,

So nyh the weder thei wol love,

As who seith sche schal noght foryete,

7050Nou I this tokne of hire have gete:

Thus halwe thei the hihe feste.

Such thefte mai no cherche areste,

For al is leveful that hem liketh,

To whom that elles it misliketh.

And ek riht in the selve kinde

In grete Cites men mai finde

This lusti folk, that make it gay,

And waite upon the haliday:

In cherches and in Menstres eke

7060Thei gon the wommen forto seke,

And wher that such on goth aboute,

Tofore the faireste of the route,

Wher as thei sitten alle arewe,

Ther wol he most his bodi schewe,

His croket kembd and theron set

A Nouche with a chapelet,

Or elles on of grene leves,

Which late com out of the greves,

Al for he scholde seme freissh.

7070And thus he loketh on the fleissh,

Riht as an hauk which hath a sihte

Upon the foul, ther he schal lihte;

And as he were of faierie,

He scheweth him tofore here yhe

In holi place wher thei sitte,

Al forto make here hertes flitte.

His yhe nawher wole abyde,

Bot loke and prie on every syde

On hire and hire, as him best lyketh:

7080And otherwhile among he syketh;

Thenkth on of hem, “That was for me,”

And so ther thenken tuo or thre,

And yit he loveth non of alle,

Bot wher as evere his chance falle.

And natheles to seie a soth,

The cause why that he so doth

Is forto stele an herte or tuo,

Out of the cherche er that he go:

And as I seide it hier above,

7090Al is that Sacrilege of love;

For wel mai be he stelth away

That he nevere after yelde may.

Tell me forthi, my Sone, anon,

Hast thou do Sacrilege, or non,

As I have said in this manere?

Mi fader, as of this matiere

I wole you tellen redely

What I have do; bot trewely

I mai excuse min entente,

7100That nevere I yit to cherche wente

In such manere as ye me schryve,

For no womman that is on lyve.

The cause why I have it laft

Mai be for I unto that craft

Am nothing able so to stele,

Thogh ther be wommen noght so fele.

Bot yit wol I noght seie this,

Whan I am ther mi ladi is,

In whom lith holly mi querele,

7110And sche to cherche or to chapele

Wol go to matins or to messe,-

That time I waite wel and gesse,

To cherche I come and there I stonde,

And thogh I take a bok on honde,

Mi contienance is on the bok,

Bot toward hire is al my lok;

And if so falle that I preie

Unto mi god, and somwhat seie

Of Paternoster or of Crede,

7120Al is for that I wolde spede,

So that mi bede in holi cherche

Ther mihte som miracle werche

Mi ladi herte forto chaunge,

Which evere hath be to me so strange.

So that al mi devocion

And al mi contemplacion

With al min herte and mi corage

Is only set on hire ymage;

And evere I waite upon the tyde.

7130If sche loke eny thing asyde,

That I me mai of hire avise,

Anon I am with covoitise

So smite, that me were lief

To ben in holi cherche a thief;

Bot noght to stele a vestement,

For that is nothing mi talent,

Bot I wold stele, if that I mihte,

A glad word or a goodly syhte;

And evere mi service I profre,

7140And namly whan sche wol gon offre,

For thanne I lede hire, if I may,

For somwhat wolde I stele away.

Whan I beclippe hire on the wast,

Yit ate leste I stele a tast,

And otherwhile “grant mercy”

Sche seith, and so winne I therby

A lusti touch, a good word eke,

Bot al the remenant to seke

Is fro mi pourpos wonder ferr.

7150So mai I seie, as I seide er,

In holy cherche if that I wowe,

My conscience it wolde allowe,

Be so that up amendement

I mihte gete assignement

Wher forto spede in other place:

Such Sacrilege I holde a grace.

And thus, mi fader, soth to seie,

In cherche riht as in the weie,

If I mihte oght of love take,

7160Such hansell have I noght forsake.

Bot finali I me confesse,

Ther is in me non holinesse,

Whil I hire se in eny stede;

And yit, for oght that evere I dede,

No Sacrilege of hire I tok,

Bot if it were of word or lok,

Or elles if that I hir fredde,

Whan I toward offringe hir ledde,

Take therof what I take may,

7170For elles bere I noght away:

For thogh I wolde oght elles have,

Alle othre thinges ben so save

And kept with such a privilege,

That I mai do no Sacrilege.

God wot mi wille natheles,

Thogh I mot nedes kepe pes

And malgre myn so let it passe,

Mi will therto is noght the lasse,

If I mihte other wise aweie.

7180Forthi, mi fader, I you preie,

Tell what you thenketh therupon,

If I therof have gult or non.

Thi will, mi Sone, is forto blame,

The remenant is bot a game,

That I have herd the telle as yit.

Bot tak this lore into thi wit,

That alle thing hath time and stede,

The cherche serveth for the bede,

The chambre is of an other speche.

7190Bot if thou wistest of the wreche,

Hou Sacrilege it hath aboght,

Thou woldest betre ben bethoght;

And for thou schalt the more amende,

A tale I wole on the despende.

To alle men, as who seith, knowe

It is, and in the world thurgh blowe,

Hou that of Troie Lamedon

To Hercules and to Jasoun,

Whan toward Colchos out of Grece

7200Be See sailende upon a piece

Of lond of Troie reste preide,-

Bot he hem wrathfulli congeide:

And for thei founde him so vilein,

Whan thei come into Grece ayein,

With pouer that thei gete myhte

Towardes Troie thei hem dyhte,

And ther thei token such vengance,

Wherof stant yit the remembrance;

For thei destruide king and al,

7210And leften bot the brente wal.

The Grecs of Troiens many slowe

And prisoners thei toke ynowe,

Among the whiche ther was on,

The kinges doughter Lamedon,

Esiona, that faire thing,

Which unto Thelamon the king

Be Hercules and be thassent

Of al the hole parlement

Was at his wille yove and granted.

7220And thus hath Grece Troie danted,

And hom thei torne in such manere:

Bot after this nou schalt thou hiere

The cause why this tale I telle,

Upon the chances that befelle.

King Lamedon, which deide thus,

He hadde a Sone, on Priamus,

Which was noght thilke time at hom:

Bot whan he herde of this, he com,

And fond hou the Cite was falle,

7230Which he began anon to walle

And made ther a cite newe,

That thei whiche othre londes knewe

Tho seiden, that of lym and Ston

In al the world so fair was non.

And on that o side of the toun

The king let maken Ylioun,

That hihe Tour, that stronge place,

Which was adrad of no manace

Of quarel nor of non engin;

7240And thogh men wolde make a Myn,

No mannes craft it mihte aproche,

For it was sett upon a roche.

The walles of the toun aboute,

Hem stod of al the world no doute,

And after the proporcion

Sex gates weren of the toun

Of such a forme, of such entaile,

That hem to se was gret mervaile:

The diches weren brode and depe,

7250A fewe men it mihte kepe

From al the world, as semeth tho,

Bot if the goddes weren fo.

Gret presse unto that cite drouh,

So that ther was of poeple ynouh,

Of Burgeis that therinne duellen;

Ther mai no mannes tunge tellen

Hou that cite was riche of good.

Whan al was mad and al wel stod,

King Priamus tho him bethoghte

7260What thei of Grece whilom wroghte,

And what was of her swerd devoured,

And hou his Soster deshonoured

With Thelamon awey was lad:

And so thenkende he wax unglad,

And sette anon a parlement,

To which the lordes were assent.

In many a wise ther was spoke,

Hou that thei mihten ben awroke,

Bot ate laste natheles

7270Thei seiden alle, “Acord and pes.”

To setten either part in reste

It thoghte hem thanne for the beste

With resonable amendement;

And thus was Anthenor forth sent

To axe Esionam ayein

And witen what thei wolden sein.

So passeth he the See be barge

To Grece forto seie his charge,

The which he seide redely

7280Unto the lordes by and by:

Bot where he spak in Grece aboute,

He herde noght bot wordes stoute,

And nameliche of Thelamon;

The maiden wolde he noght forgon,

He seide, for no maner thing,

And bad him gon hom to his king,

For there gat he non amende

For oght he couthe do or sende.

This Anthenor ayein goth hom

7290Unto his king, and whan he com,

He tolde in Grece of that he herde,

And hou that Thelamon ansuerde,

And hou thei were at here above,

That thei wol nouther pes ne love,

Bot every man schal don his beste.

Bot for men sein that nyht hath reste,

The king bethoghte him al that nyht,

And erli, whan the dai was lyht,

He tok conseil of this matiere;

7300And thei acorde in this manere,

That he withouten eny lette

A certein time scholde sette

Of Parlement to ben avised:

And in the wise it was devised,

Of parlement he sette a day,

And that was in the Monthe of Maii.

This Priamus hadde in his yhte

A wif, and Hecuba sche hyhte,

Be whom that time ek hadde he

7310Of Sones fyve, and douhtres thre

Besiden hem, and thritty mo,

And weren knyhtes alle tho,

Bot noght upon his wif begete,

Bot elles where he myhte hem gete

Of wommen whiche he hadde knowe;

Such was the world at thilke throwe:

So that he was of children riche,

As therof was noman his liche.

Of Parlement the dai was come,

7320Ther ben the lordes alle and some;

Tho was pronounced and pourposed,

And al the cause hem was desclosed,

Hou Anthenor in Grece ferde.

Thei seten alle stille and herde,

And tho spak every man aboute:

Ther was alegged many a doute,

And many a proud word spoke also;

Bot for the moste part as tho

Thei wisten noght what was the beste,

7330Or forto werre or forto reste.

Bot he that was withoute fere,

Hector, among the lordes there

His tale tolde in such a wise,

And seide, “Lordes, ye ben wise,

Ye knowen this als wel as I,

Above all othre most worthi

Stant nou in Grece the manhode

Of worthinesse and of knihthode;

For who so wole it wel agrope,

7340To hem belongeth al Europe,

Which is the thridde parti evene

Of al the world under the hevene;

And we be bot of folk a fewe.

So were it reson forto schewe

The peril, er we falle thrinne:

Betre is to leve, than beginne

Thing which as mai noght ben achieved;

He is noght wys that fint him grieved,

And doth so that his grief be more;

7350For who that loketh al tofore

And wol noght se what is behinde,

He mai fulofte hise harmes finde:

Wicke is to stryve and have the worse.

We have encheson forto corse,

This wot I wel, and forto hate

The Greks; bot er that we debate

With hem that ben of such a myht,

It is ful good that every wiht

Be of himself riht wel bethoght.

7360Bot as for me this seie I noght;

For while that mi lif wol stonde,

If that ye taken werre on honde,

Falle it to beste or to the werste,

I schal miselven be the ferste

To grieven hem, what evere I may.

I wol noght ones seie nay

To thing which that youre conseil demeth,

For unto me wel more it quemeth

The werre certes than the pes;

7370Bot this I seie natheles,

As me belongeth forto seie.

Nou schape ye the beste weie.”

Whan Hector hath seid his avis,

Next after him tho spak Paris,

Which was his brother, and alleide

What him best thoghte, and thus he seide:

“Strong thing it is to soffre wrong,

And suffre schame is more strong,

Bot we have suffred bothe tuo;

7380And for al that yit have we do

What so we mihte to reforme

The pes, whan we in such a forme

Sente Anthenor, as ye wel knowe.

And thei here grete wordes blowe

Upon her wrongful dedes eke;

And who that wole himself noght meke

To pes, and list no reson take,

Men sein reson him wol forsake:

For in the multitude of men

7390Is noght the strengthe, for with ten

It hath be sen in trew querele

Ayein an hundred false dele,

And had the betre of goddes grace.

This hath befalle in many place;

And if it like unto you alle,

I wolde assaie, hou so it falle,

Oure enemis if I mai grieve;

For I have cawht a gret believe

Upon a point I wol declare.

7400This ender day, as I gan fare

To hunte unto the grete hert,

Which was tofore myn houndes stert,

And every man went on his syde

Him to poursuie, and I to ryde

Began the chace, and soth to seie,

Withinne a while out of mi weie

I rod, and nyste where I was.

And slep me cauhte, and on the gras

Beside a welle I lay me doun

7410To slepe, and in a visioun

To me the god Mercurie cam;

Goddesses thre with him he nam,

Minerve, Venus and Juno,

And in his hond an Appel tho

He hield of gold with lettres write:

And this he dede me to wite,

Hou that thei putt hem upon me,

That to the faireste of hem thre

Of gold that Appel scholde I yive.

7420With ech of hem tho was I schrive,

And echon faire me behihte;

Bot Venus seide, if that sche mihte

That Appel of mi yifte gete,

Sche wolde it neveremor foryete,

And seide hou that in Grece lond

Sche wolde bringe unto myn hond

Of al this Erthe the faireste;

So that me thoghte it for the beste,

To hire and yaf that Appel tho.

7430Thus hope I wel, if that I go,

That sche for me wol so ordeine,

That thei matiere forto pleigne

Schul have, er that I come ayein.

Nou have ye herd that I wol sein:

Sey ye what stant in youre avis.”

And every man tho seide his,

And sundri causes thei recorde,

Bot ate laste thei acorde

That Paris schal to Grece wende,

7440And thus the parlement tok ende.

Cassandra, whan sche herde of this,

The which to Paris Soster is,

Anon sche gan to wepe and weile,

And seide, “Allas, what mai ous eile?

Fortune with hire blinde whiel

Ne wol noght lete ous stonde wel:

For this I dar wel undertake,

That if Paris his weie take,

As it is seid that he schal do,

7450We ben for evere thanne undo.”

This, which Cassandre thanne hihte,

In al the world as it berth sihte,

In bokes as men finde write,

Is that Sibille of whom ye wite,

That alle men yit clepen sage.

Whan that sche wiste of this viage,

Hou Paris schal to Grece fare,

No womman mihte worse fare

Ne sorwe more than sche dede;

7460And riht so in the same stede

Ferde Helenus, which was hir brother,

Of prophecie and such an other:

And al was holde bot a jape,

So that the pourpos which was schape,

Or were hem lief or were hem loth,

Was holde, and into Grece goth

This Paris with his retenance.

And as it fell upon his chance,

Of Grece he londeth in an yle,

7470And him was told the same whyle

Of folk which he began to freyne,

Tho was in thyle queene Heleyne,

And ek of contres there aboute

Of ladis many a lusti route,

With mochel worthi poeple also.

And why thei comen theder tho,

The cause stod in such a wise,-

For worschipe and for sacrifise

That thei to Venus wolden make,

7480As thei tofore hadde undertake,

Some of good will, some of beheste,

For thanne was hire hihe feste

Withinne a temple which was there.

Whan Paris wiste what thei were,

Anon he schop his ordinance

To gon and don his obeissance

To Venus on hire holi day,

And dede upon his beste aray.

With gret richesse he him behongeth,

7490As it to such a lord belongeth,

He was noght armed natheles,

Bot as it were in lond of pes,

And thus he goth forth out of Schipe

And takth with him his felaschipe:

In such manere as I you seie

Unto the temple he hield his weie.

Tydinge, which goth overal

To grete and smale, forth withal

Com to the queenes Ere and tolde

7500Hou Paris com, and that he wolde

Do sacrifise to Venus:

And whan sche herde telle thus,

Sche thoghte, hou that it evere be,

That sche wole him abyde and se.

Forth comth Paris with glad visage

Into the temple on pelrinage,

Wher unto Venus the goddesse

He yifth and offreth gret richesse,

And preith hir that he preie wolde.

7510And thanne aside he gan beholde,

And sih wher that this ladi stod;

And he forth in his freisshe mod

Goth ther sche was and made her chiere,

As he wel couthe in his manere,

That of his wordes such plesance

Sche tok, that al hire aqueintance,

Als ferforth as the herte lay,

He stal er that he wente away.

So goth he forth and tok his leve,

7520And thoghte, anon as it was eve,

He wolde don his Sacrilegge,

That many a man it scholde abegge.

Whan he to Schipe ayein was come,

To him he hath his conseil nome,

And al devised the matiere

In such a wise as thou schalt hiere.

Withinne nyht al prively

His men he warneth by and by,

That thei be redy armed sone

7530For certein thing which was to done:

And thei anon ben redi alle,

And ech on other gan to calle,

And went hem out upon the stronde

And tok a pourpos ther alonde

Of what thing that thei wolden do,

Toward the temple and forth thei go.

So fell it, of devocion

Heleine in contemplacion

With many an other worthi wiht

7540Was in the temple and wok al nyht,

To bidde and preie unto thymage

Of Venus, as was thanne usage;

So that Paris riht as him liste

Into the temple, er thei it wiste,

Com with his men al sodeinly,

And alle at ones sette ascry

In hem whiche in the temple were,

For tho was mochel poeple there;

Bot of defense was no bote,

7550So soffren thei that soffre mote.

Paris unto the queene wente,

And hire in bothe hise armes hente

With him and with his felaschipe,

And forth thei bere hire unto Schipe.

Up goth the Seil and forth thei wente,

And such a wynd fortune hem sente,

Til thei the havene of Troie cauhte;

Where out of Schipe anon thei strauhte

And gon hem forth toward the toun,

7560The which cam with processioun

Ayein Paris to sen his preie.

And every man began to seie

To Paris and his felaschipe

Al that thei couthen of worschipe;

Was non so litel man in Troie,

That he ne made merthe and joie

Of that Paris hath wonne Heleine.

Bot al that merthe is sorwe and peine

To Helenus and to Cassaundre;

7570For thei it token schame and sklaundre

And lost of al the comun grace,

That Paris out of holi place

Be Stelthe hath take a mannes wif,

Wherof that he schal lese his lif

And many a worthi man therto,

And al the Cite be fordo,

Which nevere schal be mad ayein.

And so it fell, riht as thei sein,

The Sacrilege which he wroghte

7580Was cause why the Gregois soughte

Unto the toun and it beleie,

And wolden nevere parte aweie,

Til what be sleihte and what be strengthe

Thei hadde it wonne in brede and lengthe,

And brent and slayn that was withinne.

Now se, mi Sone, which a sinne

Is Sacrilege in holy stede:

Be war therfore and bidd thi bede,

And do nothing in holy cherche,

7590Bot that thou miht be reson werche.

And ek tak hiede of Achilles,

Whan he unto his love ches

Polixena, that was also

In holi temple of Appollo,

Which was the cause why he dyde

And al his lust was leyd asyde.

And Troilus upon Criseide

Also his ferste love leide

In holi place, and hou it ferde,

7600As who seith, al the world it herde;

Forsake he was for Diomede,

Such was of love his laste mede.

Forthi, mi Sone, I wolde rede,

Be this ensample as thou myht rede,

Sech elles, wher thou wolt, thi grace,

And war the wel in holi place

What thou to love do or speke,

In aunter if it so be wreke

As thou hast herd me told before.

7610And tak good hiede also therfore

Upon what forme, of Avarice

Mor than of eny other vice,

I have divided in parties

The branches, whiche of compainies

Thurghout the world in general

Ben nou the leders overal,

Of Covoitise and of Perjure,

Of fals brocage and of Usure,

Of Skarsnesse and Unkindeschipe,

7620Which nevere drouh to felaschipe,

Of Robberie and privi Stelthe,

Which don is for the worldes welthe,

Of Ravine and of Sacrilegge,

Which makth the conscience agregge;

Althogh it mai richesse atteigne,

It floureth, bot it schal noght greine

Unto the fruit of rihtwisnesse.

Bot who that wolde do largesse

Upon the reule as it is yive,

7630So myhte a man in trouthe live

Toward his god, and ek also

Toward the world, for bothe tuo

Largesse awaiteth as belongeth,

To neither part that he ne wrongeth;

He kepth himself, he kepth his frendes,

So stant he sauf to bothe hise endes,

That he excedeth no mesure,

So wel he can himself mesure:

Wherof, mi Sone, thou schalt wite,

7640So as the Philosophre hath write.

Betwen the tuo extremites

Of vice stant the propretes

Of vertu, and to prove it so

Tak Avarice and tak also

The vice of Prodegalite;

Betwen hem Liberalite,

Which is the vertu of Largesse,

Stant and governeth his noblesse.

For tho tuo vices in discord

7650Stonde evere, as I finde of record;

So that betwen here tuo debat

Largesse reuleth his astat.

For in such wise as Avarice,

As I tofore have told the vice,

Thurgh streit holdinge and thurgh skarsnesse

Stant in contraire to Largesse,

Riht so stant Prodegalite

Revers, bot noght in such degre.

For so as Avarice spareth,

7660And forto kepe his tresor careth,

That other al his oghne and more

Ayein the wise mannes lore

Yifth and despendeth hiere and there,

So that him reccheth nevere where.

While he mai borwe, he wol despende,

Til ate laste he seith, “I wende”;

Bot that is spoken al to late,

For thanne is poverte ate gate

And takth him evene be the slieve,

7670For erst wol he no wisdom lieve.

And riht as Avarice is Sinne,

That wolde his tresor kepe and winne,

Riht so is Prodegalite:

Bot of Largesse in his degre,

Which evene stant betwen the tuo,

The hihe god and man also

The vertu ech of hem commendeth.

For he himselven ferst amendeth,

That overal his name spredeth,

7680And to alle othre, where it nedeth,

He yifth his good in such a wise,

That he makth many a man arise,

Which elles scholde falle lowe.

Largesce mai noght ben unknowe;

For what lond that he regneth inne,

It mai noght faile forto winne

Thurgh his decerte love and grace,

Wher it schal faile in other place.

And thus betwen tomoche and lyte

7690Largesce, which is noght to wyte,

Halt evere forth the middel weie:

Bot who that torne wole aweie

Fro that to Prodegalite,

Anon he lest the proprete

Of vertu and goth to the vice;

For in such wise as Avarice

Lest for scarsnesse his goode name,

Riht so that other is to blame,

Which thurgh his wast mesure excedeth,

7700For noman wot what harm that bredeth.

Bot mochel joie ther betydeth,

Wher that largesse an herte guydeth:

For his mesure is so governed,

That he to bothe partz is lerned,

To god and to the world also,

He doth reson to bothe tuo.

The povere folk of his almesse

Relieved ben in the destresse

Of thurst, of hunger and of cold;

7710The yifte of him was nevere sold,

Bot frely yive, and natheles

The myhti god of his encress

Rewardeth him of double grace;

The hevene he doth him to pourchace

And yifth him ek the worldes good:

And thus the Cote for the hod

Largesse takth, and yit no Sinne

He doth, hou so that evere he winne.

What man hath hors men yive him hors,

7720And who non hath of him no fors,

For he mai thanne on fote go;

The world hath evere stonde so.

Bot forto loken of the tweie,

A man to go the siker weie,

Betre is to yive than to take:

With yifte a man mai frendes make,

Bot who that takth or gret or smal,

He takth a charge forth withal,

And stant noght fre til it be quit.

7730So forto deme in mannes wit,

It helpeth more a man to have

His oghne good, than forto crave

Of othre men and make him bounde,

Wher elles he mai stonde unbounde.

Senec conseileth in this wise,

And seith, “Bot, if thi good suffise

Unto the liking of thi wille,

Withdrawh thi lust and hold the stille,

And be to thi good sufficant.”

7740For that thing is appourtenant

To trouthe and causeth to be fre

After the reule of charite,

Which ferst beginneth of himselve.

For if thou richest othre tuelve,

Wherof thou schalt thiself be povere,

I not what thonk thou miht recovere.

Whil that a man hath good to yive,

With grete routes he mai live

And hath his frendes overal,

7750And everich of him telle schal.

Therwhile he hath his fulle packe,

Thei seie, “A good felawe is Jacke”;

Bot whanne it faileth ate laste,

Anon his pris thei overcaste,

For thanne is ther non other lawe

Bot, “Jacke was a good felawe.”

Whan thei him povere and nedy se,

Thei lete him passe and farwel he;

Al that he wende of compainie

7760Is thanne torned to folie.

Bot nou to speke in other kinde

Of love, a man mai suche finde,

That wher thei come in every route

Thei caste and waste her love aboute,

Til al here time is overgon,

And thanne have thei love non:

For who that loveth overal,

It is no reson that he schal

Of love have eny proprete.

7770Forthi, mi Sone, avise thee

If thou of love hast be to large,

For such a man is noght to charge:

And if it so be that thou hast

Despended al thi time in wast

And set thi love in sondri place,

Though thou the substance of thi grace

Lese ate laste, it is no wonder;

For he that put himselven under,

As who seith, comun overal,

7780He lest the love special

Of eny on, if sche be wys;

For love schal noght bere his pris

Be reson, whanne it passeth on.

So have I sen ful many on,

That were of love wel at ese,

Whiche after felle in gret desese

Thurgh wast of love, that thei spente

In sondri places wher thei wente.

Riht so, mi Sone, I axe of thee

7790If thou with Prodegalite

Hast hier and ther thi love wasted.

Mi fader, nay; bot I have tasted

In many a place as I have go,

And yit love I nevere on of tho,

Bot forto drive forth the dai.

For lieveth wel, myn herte is ay

Withoute mo for everemore

Al upon on, for I nomore

Desire bot hire love al one:

7800So make I many a prive mone,

For wel I fiele I have despended

Mi longe love and noght amended

Mi sped, for oght I finde yit.

If this be wast to youre wit

Of love, and Prodegalite,

Nou, goode fader, demeth ye:

Bot of o thing I wol me schryve,

That I schal for no love thryve,

Bot if hirself me wol relieve.

7810Mi Sone, that I mai wel lieve:

And natheles me semeth so,

For oght that thou hast yit misdo

Of time which thou hast despended,

It mai with grace ben amended.

For thing which mai be worth the cost

Per chaunce is nouther wast ne lost;

For what thing stant on aventure,

That can no worldes creature

Telle in certein hou it schal wende,

7820Til he therof mai sen an ende.

So that I not as yit therfore

If thou, mi Sone, hast wonne or lore:

For ofte time, as it is sene,

Whan Somer hath lost al his grene

And is with Wynter wast and bare,

That him is left nothing to spare,

Al is recovered in a throwe;

The colde wyndes overblowe,

And still be the scharpe schoures,

7830And soudeinliche ayein his floures

The Somer hapneth and is riche:

And so per cas thi graces liche,

Mi Sone, thogh thou be nou povere

Of love, yit thou miht recovere.

  Mi fader, certes grant merci:

Ye have me tawht so redeli,

That evere whil I live schal

The betre I mai be war withal

Of thing which ye have seid er this.

7840Bot overmore hou that it is,

Toward mi schrifte as it belongeth,

To wite of othre pointz me longeth;

Wherof that ye me wolden teche

With al myn herte I you beseche.

Explicit Liber Quintus.

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:54