part I

say; Bot of somdiel I am beknowe, That I mai stonde in thilke rowe 1960 Amonges hem that Saundres use. I wol me noght therof excuse, That I with such colour ne steyne, Whan I my beste Semblant feigne To my felawh, til that I wot Al his conseil bothe cold and hot: For be that cause I make him chiere, Til I his love knowe and hiere; And if so be myn herte soucheth That oght unto my ladi toucheth 1970 Of love that he wol me telle, Anon I renne unto the welle And caste water in the fyr, So that his carte amidd the Myr, Be that I have his conseil knowe, Fulofte sithe I overthrowe, Whan that he weneth best to stonde. Bot this I do you understonde, If that a man love elles where, So that my ladi be noght there, 1980 And he me telle, I wole it hide, Ther schal no word ascape aside, For with deceipte of no semblant To him breke I no covenant; Me liketh noght in other place To lette noman of his grace, Ne forto ben inquisitif To knowe an other mannes lif: Wher that he love or love noght, That toucheth nothing to my thoght, 1990 Bot al it passeth thurgh myn Ere Riht as a thing that nevere were, And is foryete and leid beside. Bot if it touche on eny side Mi ladi, as I have er spoken, Myn Eres ben noght thanne loken; For certes, whanne that betitt, My will, myn herte and al my witt Ben fully set to herkne and spire What eny man wol speke of hire. 2000 Thus have I feigned compaignie Fulofte, for I wolde aspie What thing it is that eny man Telle of mi worthi lady can: And for tuo causes I do this, The ferste cause wherof is,— If that I myhte ofherkne and seke That eny man of hire mispeke, I wolde excuse hire so fully, That whan sche wist in inderly, 2010 Min hope scholde be the more To have hir thank for everemore.

That other cause, I you assure, Is, why that I be coverture Have feigned semblant ofte time To hem that passen alday byme And ben lovers als wel as I, For this I weene trewely, That ther is of hem alle non, That thei ne loven everich on 2020 Mi ladi: for sothliche I lieve And durste setten it in prieve, Is non so wys that scholde asterte, Bot he were lustles in his herte, Forwhy and he my ladi sihe, Hir visage and hir goodlych yhe, Bot he hire lovede, er he wente. And for that such is myn entente, That is the cause of myn aspie, Why that I feigne compaignie 2030 And make felawe overal; For gladly wolde I knowen al And holde me covert alway, That I fulofte ye or nay Ne liste ansuere in eny wise, Bot feigne semblant as the wise And herkne tales, til I knowe Mi ladi lovers al arowe. And whanne I hiere how thei have wroght, I fare as thogh I herde it noght 2040 And as I no word understode; Bot that is nothing for here goode: For lieveth wel, the sothe is this, That whanne I knowe al how it is, I wol bot forthren hem a lite, Bot al the worste I can endite I telle it to my ladi plat In forthringe of myn oghne astat, And hindre hem al that evere I may. Bot for al that yit dar I say, 2050 I finde unto miself no bote, Althogh myn herte nedes mote Thurgh strengthe of love al that I hiere Discovere unto my ladi diere: For in good feith I have no miht To hele fro that swete wiht, If that it touche hire eny thing. Bot this wot wel the hevene king, That sithen ferst this world began, Unto non other strange man 2060 Ne feigned I semblant ne chiere, To wite or axe of his matiere, Thogh that he lovede ten or tuelve, Whanne it was noght my ladi selve: Bot if he wolde axe eny red Al onlich of his oghne hed, How he with other love ferde, His tales with myn Ere I herde, Bot to myn herte cam it noght Ne sank no deppere in my thoght, 2070 Bot hield conseil, as I was bede, And tolde it nevere in other stede, Bot let it passen as it com. Now, fader, say what is thi dom, And hou thou wolt that I be peined For such Semblant as I have feigned.

Mi Sone, if reson be wel peised, Ther mai no vertu ben unpreised Ne vice non be set in pris. Forthi, my Sone, if thou be wys, 2080 Do no viser upon thi face, Which as wol noght thin herte embrace: For if thou do, withinne a throwe To othre men it schal be knowe, So miht thou lihtli falle in blame And lese a gret part of thi name. And natheles in this degree Fulofte time thou myht se Of suche men that now aday This vice setten in a say: 2090 I speke it for no mannes blame, Bot forto warne thee the same. Mi Sone, as I mai hiere talke In every place where I walke, I not if it be so or non, Bot it is manye daies gon That I ferst herde telle this, How Falssemblant hath ben and is Most comunly fro yer to yere With hem that duelle among ous here, 2100 Of suche as we Lombardes calle. For thei ben the slyeste of alle, So as men sein in toune aboute, To feigne and schewe thing withoute Which is revers to that withinne: Wherof that thei fulofte winne, Whan thei be reson scholden lese; Thei ben the laste and yit thei chese, And we the ferste, and yit behinde We gon, there as we scholden finde 2110 The profit of oure oghne lond: Thus gon thei fre withoute bond To don her profit al at large, And othre men bere al the charge. Of Lombardz unto this covine, Whiche alle londes conne engine, Mai Falssemblant in special Be likned, for thei overal, Wher as they thenken forto duelle, Among hemself, so as thei telle, 2120 Ferst ben enformed forto lere A craft which cleped is Fa crere: For if Fa crere come aboute, Thanne afterward hem stant no doute To voide with a soubtil hond The beste goodes of the lond And bringe chaf and take corn. Where as Fa crere goth toforn, In all his weie he fynt no lette; That Dore can non huissher schette 2130 In which him list to take entre: And thus the conseil most secre Of every thing Fa crere knoweth, Which into strange place he bloweth, Where as he wot it mai most grieve. And thus Fa crere makth believe, So that fulofte he hath deceived, Er that he mai ben aperceived. Thus is this vice forto drede; For who these olde bokes rede 2140 Of suche ensamples as were ar, Him oghte be the more war Of alle tho that feigne chiere, Wherof thou schalt a tale hiere.

Of Falssemblant which is believed Ful many a worthi wiht is grieved, And was long time er we wer bore. To thee, my Sone, I wol therfore A tale telle of Falssemblant, Which falseth many a covenant, 2150 And many a fraude of fals conseil Ther ben hangende upon his Seil: And that aboghten gulteles Bothe Deianire and Hercules, The whiche in gret desese felle Thurgh Falssemblant, as I schal telle. Whan Hercules withinne a throwe Al only hath his herte throwe Upon this faire Deianire, It fell him on a dai desire, 2160 Upon a Rivere as he stod, That passe he wolde over the flod Withoute bot, and with him lede His love, bot he was in drede For tendresce of that swete wiht, For he knew noght the forde ariht. Ther was a Geant thanne nyh, Which Nessus hihte, and whanne he sih This Hercules and Deianyre, Withinne his herte he gan conspire, 2170 As he which thurgh his tricherie Hath Hercules in gret envie, Which he bar in his herte loke, And thanne he thoghte it schal be wroke. Bot he ne dorste natheles Ayein this worthi Hercules Falle in debat as forto feihte; Bot feigneth Semblant al be sleihte Of frendschipe and of alle goode, And comth where as thei bothe stode, 2180 And makth hem al the chiere he can, And seith that as here oghne man He is al redy forto do What thing he mai; and it fell so That thei upon his Semblant triste, And axen him if that he wiste What thing hem were best to done, So that thei mihten sauf and sone The water passe, he and sche. And whan Nessus the privete 2190 Knew of here herte what it mente, As he that was of double entente, He made hem riht a glad visage; And whanne he herde of the passage Of him and hire, he thoghte guile, And feigneth Semblant for a while To don hem plesance and servise, Bot he thoghte al an other wise. This Nessus with hise wordes slyhe Yaf such conseil tofore here yhe 2200 Which semeth outward profitable And was withinne deceivable. He bad hem of the Stremes depe That thei be war and take kepe, So as thei knowe noght the pas; Bot forto helpe in such a cas, He seith himself that for here ese He wolde, if that it mihte hem plese, The passage of the water take, And for this ladi undertake 2210 To bere unto that other stronde And sauf to sette hire up alonde, And Hercules may thanne also The weie knowe how he schal go: And herto thei acorden alle. Bot what as after schal befalle, Wel payd was Hercules of this, And this Geant also glad is, And tok this ladi up alofte And set hire on his schuldre softe, 2220 And in the flod began to wade, As he which no grucchinge made, And bar hire over sauf and sound. Bot whanne he stod on dreie ground And Hercules was fer behinde, He sette his trowthe al out of mynde, Who so therof be lief or loth, With Deianyre and forth he goth, As he that thoghte to dissevere The compaignie of hem for evere. 2230 Whan Hercules therof tok hiede, Als faste as evere he mihte him spiede He hyeth after in a throwe; And hapneth that he hadde a bowe, The which in alle haste he bende, As he that wolde an Arwe sende, Which he tofore hadde envenimed. He hath so wel his schote timed, That he him thurgh the bodi smette, And thus the false wiht he lette. 2240

Bot lest now such a felonie: Whan Nessus wiste he scholde die, He tok to Deianyre his scherte, Which with the blod was of his herte Thurghout desteigned overal, And tolde how sche it kepe schal Al prively to this entente, That if hire lord his herte wente To love in eny other place, The scherte, he seith, hath such a grace, 2250 That if sche mai so mochel make That he the scherte upon him take, He schal alle othre lete in vein And torne unto hire love ayein. Who was tho glad bot Deianyre? Hire thoghte hire herte was afyre Til it was in hire cofre loke, So that no word therof was spoke.

The daies gon, the yeres passe, The hertes waxen lasse and lasse 2260 Of hem that ben to love untrewe: This Hercules with herte newe His love hath set on Eolen, And therof spieken alle men. This Eolen, this faire maide, Was, as men thilke time saide, The kinges dowhter of Eurice; And sche made Hercules so nyce Upon hir Love and so assote, That he him clotheth in hire cote, 2270 And sche in his was clothed ofte; And thus fieblesce is set alofte, And strengthe was put under fote, Ther can noman therof do bote. Whan Deianyre hath herd this speche, Ther was no sorwe forto seche: Of other helpe wot sche non, Bot goth unto hire cofre anon; With wepende yhe and woful herte Sche tok out thilke unhappi scherte, 2280 As sche that wende wel to do, And broghte hire werk aboute so That Hercules this scherte on dede, To such entente as she was bede Of Nessus, so as I seide er. Bot therof was sche noght the ner, As no fortune may be weyved; With Falssemblant sche was deceived, That whan sche wende best have wonne, Sche lost al that sche hath begonne. 2290 For thilke scherte unto the bon His body sette afyre anon, And cleveth so, it mai noght twinne, For the venym that was therinne. And he thanne as a wilde man Unto the hihe wode he ran, And as the Clerk Ovide telleth, The grete tres to grounde he felleth With strengthe al of his oghne myght, And made an huge fyr upriht, 2300 And lepte himself therinne at ones And brende him bothe fleissh and bones. Which thing cam al thurgh Falssemblant, That false Nessus the Geant Made unto him and to his wif; Wherof that he hath lost his lif, And sche sori for everemo.

Forthi, my Sone, er thee be wo, I rede, be wel war therfore; For whan so gret a man was lore, 2310 It oghte yive a gret conceipte To warne alle othre of such deceipte.

Grant mercy, fader, I am war So fer that I nomore dar Of Falssemblant take aqueintance; Bot rathere I wol do penance That I have feigned chiere er this. Now axeth forth, what so ther is Of that belongeth to my schrifte.

Mi Sone, yit ther is the fifte 2320 Which is conceived of Envie, And cleped is Supplantarie, Thurgh whos compassement and guile Ful many a man hath lost his while In love als wel as otherwise, Hierafter as I schal devise.

The vice of Supplantacioun With many a fals collacioun, Which he conspireth al unknowe, Full ofte time hath overthrowe 2330 The worschipe of an other man. So wel no lif awayte can Ayein his sleyhte forto caste, That he his pourpos ate laste Ne hath, er that it be withset. Bot most of alle his herte is set In court upon these grete Offices Of dignitees and benefices: Thus goth he with his sleyhte aboute To hindre and schowve an other oute 2340 And stonden with his slyh compas In stede there an other was; And so to sette himselven inne, He reccheth noght, be so he winne, Of that an other man schal lese, And thus fulofte chalk for chese He changeth with ful litel cost, Wherof an other hath the lost And he the profit schal receive. For his fortune is to deceive 2350 And forto change upon the whel His wo with othre mennes wel: Of that an other man avaleth, His oghne astat thus up he haleth, And takth the bridd to his beyete, Wher othre men the buisshes bete.

Mi Sone, and in the same wise Ther ben lovers of such emprise, That schapen hem to be relieved Where it is wrong to ben achieved: 2360 For it is other mannes riht, Which he hath taken dai and niht To kepe for his oghne Stor Toward himself for everemor, And is his propre be the lawe, Which thing that axeth no felawe, If love holde his covenant. Bot thei that worchen be supplaunt, Yit wolden thei a man supplaunte, And take a part of thilke plaunte 2370 Which he hath for himselve set: And so fulofte is al unknet, That som man weneth be riht fast. For Supplant with his slyhe cast Fulofte happneth forto mowe Thing which an other man hath sowe, And makth comun of proprete With sleihte and with soubtilite, As men mai se fro yer to yere. Thus cleymeth he the bot to stiere, 2380 Of which an other maister is.

Forthi, my Sone, if thou er this Hast ben of such professioun, Discovere thi confessioun: Hast thou supplanted eny man?

For oght that I you telle can, Min holi fader, as of the dede I am withouten eny drede Al gulteles; bot of my thoght Mi conscience excuse I noght. 2390 For were it wrong or were it riht, Me lakketh nothing bote myht, That I ne wolde longe er this Of other mannes love ywiss Be weie of Supplantacioun Have mad apropriacioun And holde that I nevere boghte, Thogh it an other man forthoghte. And al this speke I bot of on, For whom I lete alle othre gon; 2400 Bot hire I mai noght overpasse, That I ne mot alwey compasse, Me roghte noght be what queintise, So that I mihte in eny wise Fro suche that mi ladi serve Hire herte make forto swerve Withouten eny part of love. For be the goddes alle above I wolde it mihte so befalle, That I al one scholde hem alle 2410 Supplante, and welde hire at mi wille. And that thing mai I noght fulfille, Bot if I scholde strengthe make; And that I dar noght undertake, Thogh I were as was Alisaundre, For therof mihte arise sklaundre; And certes that schal I do nevere, For in good feith yit hadde I levere In my simplesce forto die, Than worche such Supplantarie. 2420 Of otherwise I wol noght seie That if I founde a seker weie, I wolde as for conclusioun Worche after Supplantacioun, So hihe a love forto winne. Now, fader, if that this be Sinne, I am al redy to redresce The gilt of which I me confesse.

Mi goode Sone, as of Supplant Thee thar noght drede tant ne quant, 2430 As for nothing that I have herd, Bot only that thou hast misferd Thenkende, and that me liketh noght, For godd beholt a mannes thoght. And if thou understode in soth In loves cause what it doth, A man to ben a Supplantour, Thou woldest for thin oghne honour Be double weie take kepe: Ferst for thin oghne astat to kepe, 2440 To be thiself so wel bethoght That thou supplanted were noght, And ek for worschipe of thi name Towardes othre do the same, And soffren every man have his. Bot natheles it was and is, That in a wayt at alle assaies Supplant of love in oure daies The lief fulofte for the levere Forsakth, and so it hath don evere. 2450

Ensample I finde therupon, At Troie how that Agamenon Supplantede the worthi knyht Achilles of that swete wiht, Which named was Brexeida; And also of Criseida, Whom Troilus to love ches, Supplanted hath Diomedes.

Of Geta and Amphitrion, That whilom weren bothe as on 2460 Of frendschipe and of compaignie, I rede how that Supplantarie In love, as it betidde tho, Beguiled hath on of hem tuo. For this Geta that I of meene, To whom the lusti faire Almeene Assured was be weie of love, Whan he best wende have ben above And sikerest of that he hadde, Cupido so the cause ladde, 2470 That whil he was out of the weie, Amphitrion hire love aweie Hath take, and in this forme he wroghte. Be nyhte unto the chambre he soghte, Wher that sche lay, and with a wyle He contrefeteth for the whyle The vois of Gete in such a wise, That made hire of hire bedd arise, Wenende that it were he, And let him in, and whan thei be 2480 Togedre abedde in armes faste, This Geta cam thanne ate laste Unto the Dore and seide, “Undo.” And sche ansuerde and bad him go, And seide how that abedde al warm Hir lief lay naked in hir arm; Sche wende that it were soth. Lo, what Supplant of love doth: This Geta forth bejaped wente, And yit ne wiste he what it mente; 2490 Amphitrion him hath supplanted With sleyhte of love and hire enchaunted: And thus put every man out other, The Schip of love hath lost his Rother, So that he can no reson stiere. And forto speke of this matiere Touchende love and his Supplant, A tale which is acordant Unto thin Ere I thenke enforme. Now herkne, for this is the forme. 2500

Of thilke Cite chief of alle Which men the noble Rome calle, Er it was set to Cristes feith, Ther was, as the Cronique seith, An Emperour, the which it ladde In pes, that he no werres hadde: Ther was nothing desobeissant Which was to Rome appourtenant, Bot al was torned into reste. To some it thoghte for the beste, 2510 To some it thoghte nothing so, And that was only unto tho Whos herte stod upon knyhthode: Bot most of alle of his manhode The worthi Sone of themperour, Which wolde ben a werreiour, As he that was chivalerous Of worldes fame and desirous, Began his fadre to beseche That he the werres mihte seche, 2520 In strange Marches forto ride. His fader seide he scholde abide, And wolde granten him no leve: Bot he, which wolde noght beleve, A kniht of his to whom he triste, So that his fader nothing wiste, He tok and tolde him his corage, That he pourposeth a viage. If that fortune with him stonde, He seide how that he wolde fonde 2530 The grete See to passe unknowe, And there abyde for a throwe Upon the werres to travaile. And to this point withoute faile This kniht, whan he hath herd his lord, Is swore, and stant of his acord, As thei that bothe yonge were; So that in prive conseil there Thei ben assented forto wende. And therupon to make an ende, 2540 Tresor ynowh with hem thei token, And whan the time is best thei loken, That sodeinliche in a Galeie Fro Romelond thei wente here weie And londe upon that other side. The world fell so that ilke tide, Which evere hise happes hath diverse, The grete Soldan thanne of Perse Ayein the Caliphe of Egipte A werre, which that him beclipte, 2550 Hath in a Marche costeiant. And he, which was a poursuiant Worschipe of armes to atteigne, This Romein, let anon ordeigne, That he was redi everydel: And whan he was arraied wel Of every thing which him belongeth, Straght unto Kaire his weie he fongeth, Wher he the Soldan thanne fond, And axeth that withinne his lond 2560 He mihte him for the werre serve, As he which wolde his thonk deserve.

The Soldan was riht glad with al, And wel the more in special Whan that he wiste he was Romein; Bot what was elles in certein, That mihte he wite be no weie. And thus the kniht of whom I seie Toward the Soldan is beleft, And in the Marches now and eft, 2570 Wher that the dedli werres were, He wroghte such knihthode there, That every man spak of him good. And thilke time so it stod, This mihti Soldan be his wif A Dowhter hath, that in this lif Men seiden ther was non so fair. Sche scholde ben hir fader hair, And was of yeres ripe ynowh: Hire beaute many an herte drowh 2580 To bowe unto that ilke lawe Fro which no lif mai be withdrawe, And that is love, whos nature Set lif and deth in aventure Of hem that knyhthode undertake.

This lusti peine hath overtake The herte of this Romein so sore, That to knihthode more and more Prouesce avanceth his corage. Lich to the Leoun in his rage, 2590 Fro whom that alle bestes fle, Such was the knyht in his degre: Wher he was armed in the feld, Ther dorste non abide his scheld; Gret pris upon the werre he hadde. Bot sche which al the chance ladde, Fortune, schop the Marches so, That be thassent of bothe tuo, The Soldan and the Caliphe eke, Bataille upon a dai thei seke, 2600 Which was in such a wise set That lengere scholde it noght be let. Thei made hem stronge on every side, And whan it drowh toward the tide That the bataille scholde be, The Soldan in gret privete A goldring of his dowhter tok, And made hire swere upon a bok And ek upon the goddes alle, That if fortune so befalle 2610 In the bataille that he deie, That sche schal thilke man obeie And take him to hire housebonde, Which thilke same Ring to honde Hire scholde bringe after his deth. This hath sche swore, and forth he geth With al the pouer of his lond Unto the Marche, where he fond His enemy full embatailled.

The Soldan hath the feld assailed: 2620 Thei that ben hardy sone assemblen, Wherof the dredfull hertes tremblen: That on sleth, and that other sterveth, Bot above all his pris deserveth This knihtly Romein; where he rod, His dedly swerd noman abod, Ayein the which was no defence; Egipte fledde in his presence, And thei of Perse upon the chace Poursuien: bot I not what grace 2630 Befell, an Arwe out of a bowe Al sodeinly that ilke throwe The Soldan smot, and ther he lay: The chace is left for thilke day, And he was bore into a tente.

The Soldan sih how that it wente, And that he scholde algate die; And to this knyht of Romanie, As unto him whom he most triste, His Dowhter Ring, that non it wiste, 2640 He tok, and tolde him al the cas, Upon hire oth what tokne it was Of that sche scholde ben his wif. Whan this was seid, the hertes lif Of this Soldan departeth sone; And therupon, as was to done, The dede body wel and faire Thei carie til thei come at Kaire, Wher he was worthily begrave.

The lordes, whiche as wolden save 2650 The Regne which was desolat, To bringe it into good astat A parlement thei sette anon. Now herkne what fell therupon: This yonge lord, this worthi kniht Of Rome, upon the same niht That thei amorwe trete scholde, Unto his Bacheler he tolde His conseil, and the Ring with al He scheweth, thurgh which that he schal, 2660 He seith, the kinges Dowhter wedde, For so the Ring was leid to wedde, He tolde, into hir fader hond, That with what man that sche it fond Sche scholde him take to hire lord. And this, he seith, stant of record, Bot noman wot who hath this Ring.

This Bacheler upon this thing His Ere and his entente leide, And thoghte more thanne he seide, 2670 And feigneth with a fals visage That he was glad, bot his corage Was al set in an other wise. These olde Philosophres wise Thei writen upon thilke while, That he mai best a man beguile In whom the man hath most credence; And this befell in evidence Toward this yonge lord of Rome. His Bacheler, which hadde tome, 2680 Whan that his lord be nihte slepte, This Ring, the which his maister kepte, Out of his Pours awey he dede, And putte an other in the stede.

Amorwe, whan the Court is set, The yonge ladi was forth fet, To whom the lordes don homage, And after that of Mariage Thei trete and axen of hir wille. Bot sche, which thoghte to fulfille 2690 Hire fader heste in this matiere, Seide openly, that men mai hiere, The charge which hire fader bad.

Tho was this Lord of Rome glad And drowh toward his Pours anon, Bot al for noght, it was agon: His Bacheler it hath forthdrawe, And axeth ther upon the lawe That sche him holde covenant. The tokne was so sufficant 2700 That it ne mihte be forsake, And natheles his lord hath take Querelle ayein his oghne man; Bot for nothing that evere he can He mihte as thanne noght ben herd, So that his cleym is unansuerd, And he hath of his pourpos failed.

This Bacheler was tho consailed And wedded, and of thilke Empire He was coroned Lord and Sire, 2710 And al the lond him hath received; Wherof his lord, which was deceived, A seknesse er the thridde morwe Conceived hath of dedly sorwe: And as he lay upon his deth, Therwhile him lasteth speche and breth, He sende for the worthieste Of al the lond and ek the beste, And tolde hem al the sothe tho, That he was Sone and Heir also 2720 Of themperour of grete Rome, And how that thei togedre come, This kniht and he; riht as it was, He tolde hem al the pleine cas, And for that he his conseil tolde, That other hath al that he wolde, And he hath failed of his mede: As for the good he takth non hiede, He seith, bot only of the love, Of which he wende have ben above. 2730 And therupon be lettre write He doth his fader forto wite Of al this matiere as it stod; And thanne with an hertly mod Unto the lordes he besoghte To telle his ladi how he boghte Hire love, of which an other gladeth; And with that word his hewe fadeth, And seide, “A dieu, my ladi swete.” The lif hath lost his kindly hete, 2740 And he lay ded as eny ston; Wherof was sory manyon, Bot non of alle so as sche.

This false knyht in his degree Arested was and put in hold: For openly whan it was told Of the tresoun which is befalle, Thurghout the lond thei seiden alle, If it be soth that men suppose, His oghne untrowthe him schal depose. 2750 And forto seche an evidence, With honour and gret reverence, Wherof they mihten knowe an ende, To themperour anon thei sende The lettre which his Sone wrot. And whan that he the sothe wot, To telle his sorwe is endeles, Bot yit in haste natheles Upon the tale which he herde His Stieward into Perse ferde 2760 With many a worthi Romein eke, His liege tretour forto seke; And whan thei thider come were, This kniht him hath confessed there How falsly that he hath him bore, Wherof his worthi lord was lore. Tho seiden some he scholde deie, Bot yit thei founden such a weie That he schal noght be ded in Perse; And thus the skiles ben diverse. 2770 Be cause that he was coroned, And that the lond was abandoned To him, althogh it were unriht, Ther is no peine for him diht; Bot to this point and to this ende Thei granten wel that he schal wende With the Romeins to Rome ayein. And thus acorded ful and plein, The qwike body with the dede With leve take forth thei lede, 2780 Wher that Supplant hath his juise.

Wherof that thou thee miht avise Upon this enformacioun Touchende of Supplantacioun, That thou, my Sone, do noght so: And forto take hiede also What Supplant doth in other halve, Ther is noman can finde a salve Pleinly to helen such a Sor; It hath and schal ben everemor, 2790 Whan Pride is with Envie joint, He soffreth noman in good point, Wher that he mai his honour lette. And therupon if I schal sette Ensample, in holy cherche I finde How that Supplant is noght behinde; God wot if that it now be so: For in Cronique of time ago I finde a tale concordable Of Supplant, which that is no fable, 2800 In the manere as I schal telle, So as whilom the thinges felle.

At Rome, as it hath ofte falle, The vicair general of alle Of hem that lieven Cristes feith His laste day, which non withseith, Hath schet as to the worldes ije, Whos name if I schal specefie, He hihte Pope Nicolas. And thus whan that he passed was, 2810 The Cardinals, that wolden save The forme of lawe, in the conclave Gon forto chese a newe Pope, And after that thei cowthe agrope Hath ech of hem seid his entente: Til ate laste thei assente Upon an holy clerk reclus, Which full was of gostli vertus; His pacience and his simplesse Hath set him into hih noblesse. 2820 Thus was he Pope canonized, With gret honour and intronized, And upon chance as it is falle, His name Celestin men calle; Which notefied was be bulle To holi cherche and to the fulle In alle londes magnified. Bot every worschipe is envied, And that was thilke time sene: For whan this Pope of whom I meene 2830 Was chose, and othre set beside, A Cardinal was thilke tide Which the papat longe hath desired And therupon gretli conspired; Bot whan he sih fortune is failed, For which long time he hath travailed, That ilke fyr which Ethna brenneth Thurghout his wofull herte renneth, Which is resembled to Envie, Wherof Supplant and tricherie 2840 Engendred is; and natheles He feigneth love, he feigneth pes, Outward he doth the reverence, Bot al withinne his conscience Thurgh fals ymaginacioun He thoghte Supplantacioun. And therupon a wonder wyle He wroghte: for at thilke whyle It fell so that of his lignage He hadde a clergoun of yong age, 2850 Whom he hath in his chambre affaited. This Cardinal his time hath waited, And with his wordes slyhe and queinte, The whiche he cowthe wysly peinte, He schop this clerk of which I telle Toward the Pope forto duelle, So that withinne his chambre anyht He lai, and was a prive wyht Toward the Pope on nyhtes tide.

Mai noman fle that schal betide. 2860 This Cardinal, which thoghte guile, Upon a day whan he hath while This yonge clerc unto him tok, And made him swere upon a bok, And told him what his wille was. And forth withal a Trompe of bras He hath him take, and bad him this: “Thou schalt,” he seide, “whan time is Awaite, and take riht good kepe, Whan that the Pope is fast aslepe 2870 And that non other man by nyh; And thanne that thou be so slyh Thurghout the Trompe into his Ere, Fro hevene as thogh a vois it were, To soune of such prolacioun That he his meditacioun Therof mai take and understonde, As thogh it were of goddes sonde. And in this wise thou schalt seie, That he do thilke astat aweie 2880 Of Pope, in which he stant honoured, So schal his Soule be socoured Of thilke worschipe ate laste In hevene which schal evere laste.”

This clerc, whan he hath herd the forme How he the Pope scholde enforme, Tok of the Cardinal his leve, And goth him hom, til it was Eve, And prively the trompe he hedde, Til that the Pope was abedde. 2890 And at the Midnyht, whan he knewh The Pope slepte, thanne he blewh Withinne his trompe thurgh the wal, And tolde in what manere he schal His Papacie leve, and take His ferste astat: and thus awake This holi Pope he made thries, Wherof diverse fantasies Upon his grete holinesse Withinne his herte he gan impresse. 2900 The Pope ful of innocence Conceiveth in his conscience That it is goddes wille he cesse; Bot in what wise he may relesse His hihe astat, that wot he noght. And thus withinne himself bethoght, He bar it stille in his memoire, Til he cam to the Consistoire; And there in presence of hem alle He axeth, if it so befalle 2910 That eny Pope cesse wolde, How that the lawe it soffre scholde. Thei seten alle stille and herde, Was non which to the point ansuerde, For to what pourpos that it mente Ther was noman knew his entente, Bot only he which schop the guile.

This Cardinal the same while Al openly with wordes pleine Seith, if the Pope wolde ordeigne 2920 That ther be such a lawe wroght, Than mihte he cesse, and elles noght. And as he seide, don it was; The Pope anon upon the cas Of his Papal Autorite Hath mad and yove the decre: And whan that lawe was confermed In due forme and al affermed, This innocent, which was deceived, His Papacie anon hath weyved, 2930 Renounced and resigned eke. That other was nothing to seke, Bot undernethe such a jape He hath so for himselve schape, That how as evere it him beseme, The Mitre with the Diademe He hath thurgh Supplantacion: And in his confirmacion Upon the fortune of his grace His name is cleped Boneface. 2940

Under the viser of Envie, Lo, thus was hid the tricherie, Which hath beguiled manyon. Bot such conseil ther mai be non, With treson whan it is conspired, That it nys lich the Sparke fyred Up in the Rof, which for a throwe Lith hidd, til whan the wyndes blowe It blaseth out on every side. This Bonefas, which can noght hyde 2950 The tricherie of his Supplant, Hath openly mad his avant How he the Papacie hath wonne. Bot thing which is with wrong begonne Mai nevere stonde wel at ende; Wher Pride schal the bowe bende, He schet fulofte out of the weie: And thus the Pope of whom I seie, Whan that he stod on hih the whiel, He can noght soffre himself be wel. 2960 Envie, which is loveles, And Pride, which is laweles, With such tempeste made him erre, That charite goth out of herre: So that upon misgovernance Ayein Lowyz the king of France He tok querelle of his oultrage, And seide he scholde don hommage Unto the cherche bodily. Bot he, that wiste nothing why 2970 He scholde do so gret servise After the world in such a wise, Withstod the wrong of that demande; For noght the Pope mai comande The king wol noght the Pope obeie. This Pope tho be alle weie That he mai worche of violence Hath sent the bulle of his sentence With cursinge and with enterdit.

The king upon this wrongful plyt, 2980 To kepe his regne fro servage, Conseiled was of his Barnage That miht with miht schal be withstonde. Thus was the cause take on honde, And seiden that the Papacie Thei wolde honoure and magnefie In al that evere is spirital; Bot thilke Pride temporal Of Boneface in his persone, Ayein that ilke wrong al one 2990 Thei wolde stonden in debat: And thus the man and noght the stat The Frensche schopen be her miht To grieve. And fell ther was a kniht, Sire Guilliam de Langharet, Which was upon this cause set; And therupon he tok a route Of men of Armes and rod oute, So longe and in a wayt he lay, That he aspide upon a day 3000 The Pope was at Avinoun, And scholde ryde out of the toun Unto Pontsorge, the which is A Castell in Provence of his. Upon the weie and as he rod, This kniht, which hoved and abod Embuisshed upon horse bak, Al sodeinliche upon him brak And hath him be the bridel sesed, And seide: “O thou, which hast desesed 3010 The Court of France be thi wrong, Now schalt thou singe an other song: Thin enterdit and thi sentence Ayein thin oghne conscience Hierafter thou schalt fiele and grope. We pleigne noght ayein the Pope, For thilke name is honourable, Bot thou, which hast be deceivable And tricherous in al thi werk, Thou Bonefas, thou proude clerk, 3020 Misledere of the Papacie, Thi false bodi schal abye And soffre that it hath deserved.”

Lo, thus the Supplantour was served; For thei him ladden into France And setten him to his penance Withinne a tour in harde bondes, Wher he for hunger bothe hise hondes Eet of and deide, god wot how: Of whom the wrytinge is yit now 3030 Registred, as a man mai hiere, Which spekth and seith in this manere:

Thin entre lich the fox was slyh, Thi regne also with pride on hih Was lich the Leon in his rage; Bot ate laste of thi passage Thi deth was to the houndes like.

Such is the lettre of his Cronique Proclamed in the Court of Rome, Wherof the wise ensample nome. 3040 And yit, als ferforth as I dar, I rede alle othre men be war, And that thei loke wel algate That non his oghne astat translate Of holi cherche in no degree Be fraude ne soubtilite: For thilke honour which Aaron tok Schal non receive, as seith the bok, Bot he be cleped as he was. What I schal thenken in this cas 3050 Of that I hiere now aday, I not: bot he which can and may, Be reson bothe and be nature The help of every mannes cure, He kepe Simon fro the folde. For Joachim thilke Abbot tolde How suche daies scholden falle, That comunliche in places alle The Chapmen of such mercerie With fraude and with Supplantarie 3060 So manye scholden beie and selle, That he ne may for schame telle So foul a Senne in mannes Ere. Bot god forbiede that it were In oure daies that he seith: For if the Clerc beware his feith In chapmanhod at such a feire, The remenant mot nede empeire Of al that to the world belongeth; For whan that holi cherche wrongeth, 3070 I not what other thing schal rihte. And natheles at mannes sihte Envie forto be preferred Hath conscience so differred, That noman loketh to the vice Which is the Moder of malice, And that is thilke false Envie, Which causeth many a tricherie; For wher he may an other se That is mor gracious than he, 3080 It schal noght stonden in his miht Bot if he hindre such a wiht: And that is welnyh overal, This vice is now so general.

Envie thilke unhapp indrowh, Whan Joab be deceipte slowh Abner, for drede he scholde be With king David such as was he. And thurgh Envie also it fell Of thilke false Achitofell, 3090 For his conseil was noght achieved, Bot that he sih Cusy believed With Absolon and him forsake, He heng himself upon a stake.

Senec witnesseth openly How that Envie proprely Is of the Court the comun wenche, And halt taverne forto schenche That drink which makth the herte brenne, And doth the wit aboute renne, 3100 Be every weie to compasse How that he mihte alle othre passe, As he which thurgh unkindeschipe Envieth every felaschipe; So that thou miht wel knowe and se, Ther is no vice such as he, Ferst toward godd abhominable, And to mankinde unprofitable: And that be wordes bot a fewe I schal be reson prove and schewe. 3110

Envie if that I schal descrive, He is noght schaply forto wyve In Erthe among the wommen hiere; For ther is in him no matiere Wherof he mihte do plesance. Ferst for his hevy continance Of that he semeth evere unglad, He is noght able to ben had; And ek he brenneth so withinne, That kinde mai no profit winne, 3120 Wherof he scholde his love plese: For thilke blod which scholde have ese To regne among the moiste veines, Is drye of thilke unkendeli peines Thurgh whiche Envie is fyred ay. And thus be reson prove I may That toward love Envie is noght; And otherwise if it be soght, Upon what side as evere it falle, It is the werste vice of alle, 3130 Which of himself hath most malice. For understond that every vice Som cause hath, wherof it groweth, Bot of Envie noman knoweth Fro whenne he cam bot out of helle. For thus the wise clerkes telle, That no spirit bot of malice Be weie of kinde upon a vice Is tempted, and be such a weie Envie hath kinde put aweie 3140 And of malice hath his steringe, Wherof he makth his bakbitinge, And is himself therof desesed. So mai ther be no kinde plesed; For ay the mor that he envieth, The more ayein himself he plieth. Thus stant Envie in good espeir To ben himself the develes heir, As he which is his nexte liche And forthest fro the heveneriche, 3150 For there mai he nevere wone.

Forthi, my goode diere Sone, If thou wolt finde a siker weie To love, put Envie aweie.

Min holy fader, reson wolde That I this vice eschuie scholde: Bot yit to strengthe mi corage, If that ye wolde in avantage Therof sette a recoverir, It were tome a gret desir, 3160 That I this vice mihte flee.

Nou understond, my Sone, and se, Ther is phisique for the seke, And vertus for the vices eke. Who that the vices wolde eschuie, He mot be resoun thanne suie The vertus; for be thilke weie He mai the vices don aweie, For thei togedre mai noght duelle: For as the water of a welle 3170 Of fyr abateth the malice, Riht so vertu fordoth the vice. Ayein Envie is Charite, Which is the Moder of Pite, That makth a mannes herte tendre, That it mai no malice engendre In him that is enclin therto. For his corage is tempred so, That thogh he mihte himself relieve, Yit wolde he noght an other grieve, 3180 Bot rather forto do plesance He berth himselven the grevance, So fain he wolde an other ese. Wherof, mi Sone, for thin ese Now herkne a tale which I rede, And understond it wel, I rede.

Among the bokes of latin I finde write of Constantin The worthi Emperour of Rome, Suche infortunes to him come, 3190 Whan he was in his lusti age, The lepre cawhte in his visage And so forth overal aboute, That he ne mihte ryden oute: So lefte he bothe Schield and spere, As he that mihte him noght bestere, And hield him in his chambre clos. Thurgh al the world the fame aros, The grete clerkes ben asent And come at his comandement 3200 To trete upon this lordes hele. So longe thei togedre dele, That thei upon this medicine Apointen hem, and determine That in the maner as it stod Thei wolde him bathe in childes blod Withinne sevene wynter age: For, as thei sein, that scholde assuage The lepre and al the violence, Which that thei knewe of Accidence 3210 And noght be weie of kinde is falle. And therto thei acorden alle As for final conclusioun, And tolden here opinioun To themperour: and he anon His conseil tok, and therupon With lettres and with seales oute Thei sende in every lond aboute The yonge children forto seche, Whos blod, thei seiden, schal be leche 3220 For themperoures maladie. Ther was ynowh to wepe and crie Among the Modres, whan thei herde Hou wofully this cause ferde, Bot natheles thei moten bowe; And thus wommen ther come ynowhe With children soukende on the Tete. Tho was ther manye teres lete, Bot were hem lieve or were hem lothe, The wommen and the children bothe 3230 Into the Paleis forth be broght With many a sory hertes thoght Of hem whiche of here bodi bore The children hadde, and so forlore Withinne a while scholden se. The Modres wepe in here degre, And manye of hem aswoune falle, The yonge babes criden alle: This noyse aros, the lord it herde, And loked out, and how it ferde 3240 He sih, and as who seith abreide Out of his slep, and thus he seide:

“O thou divine pourveance, Which every man in the balance Of kinde hast formed to be liche, The povere is bore as is the riche And deieth in the same wise, Upon the fol, upon the wise Siknesse and hele entrecomune; Mai non eschuie that fortune 3250 Which kinde hath in hire lawe set; Hire strengthe and beaute ben beset To every man aliche fre, That sche preferreth no degre As in the disposicioun Of bodili complexioun: And ek of Soule resonable The povere child is bore als able To vertu as the kinges Sone; For every man his oghne wone 3260 After the lust of his assay The vice or vertu chese may. Thus stonden alle men franchised, Bot in astat thei ben divised; To some worschipe and richesse, To some poverte and distresse, On lordeth and an other serveth; Bot yit as every man deserveth The world yifth noght his yiftes hiere. Bot certes he hath gret matiere 3270 To ben of good condicioun, Which hath in his subjeccioun The men that ben of his semblance.” And ek he tok a remembrance How he that made lawe of kinde Wolde every man to lawe binde, And bad a man, such as he wolde Toward himself, riht such he scholde Toward an other don also. And thus this worthi lord as tho 3280 Sette in balance his oghne astat And with himself stod in debat, And thoghte hou that it was noght good To se so mochel mannes blod Be spilt for cause of him alone. He sih also the grete mone, Of that the Modres were unglade, And of the wo the children made, Wherof that al his herte tendreth, And such pite withinne engendreth, 3290 That him was levere forto chese His oghne bodi forto lese, Than se so gret a moerdre wroght Upon the blod which gulteth noght. Thus for the pite which he tok Alle othre leches he forsok, And put him out of aventure Al only into goddes cure; And seith, “Who that woll maister be, He mot be servant to pite.” 3300 So ferforth he was overcome With charite, that he hath nome His conseil and hise officers, And bad unto hise tresorers That thei his tresour al aboute Departe among the povere route Of wommen and of children bothe, Wherof thei mihte hem fede and clothe And saufli tornen hom ayein Withoute lost of eny grein. 3310 Thurgh charite thus he despendeth His good, wherof that he amendeth The povere poeple, and contrevaileth The harm, that he hem so travaileth: And thus the woful nyhtes sorwe To joie is torned on the morwe; Al was thonkinge, al was blessinge, Which erst was wepinge and cursinge; Thes wommen gon hom glade ynowh, Echon for joie on other lowh, 3320 And preiden for this lordes hele, Which hath relessed the querele, And hath his oghne will forsake In charite for goddes sake.

Bot now hierafter thou schalt hiere What god hath wroght in this matiere, As he which doth al equite. To him that wroghte charite He was ayeinward charitous, And to pite he was pitous: 3330 For it was nevere knowe yit That charite goth unaquit. The nyht, whan he was leid to slepe, The hihe god, which wolde him kepe, Seint Peter and seint Poul him sende, Be whom he wolde his lepre amende. Thei tuo to him slepende appiere Fro god, and seide in this manere: “O Constantin, for thou hast served Pite, thou hast pite deserved: 3340 Forthi thou schalt such pite have That god thurgh pite woll thee save. So schalt thou double hele finde, Ferst for thi bodiliche kinde, And for thi wofull Soule also, Thou schalt ben hol of bothe tuo. And for thou schalt thee noght despeire, Thi lepre schal nomore empeire Til thou wolt sende therupon Unto the Mont of Celion, 3350 Wher that Silvestre and his clergie Togedre duelle in compaignie For drede of thee, which many day Hast ben a fo to Cristes lay, And hast destruid to mochel schame The prechours of his holy name. Bot now thou hast somdiel appesed Thi god, and with good dede plesed, That thou thi pite hast bewared Upon the blod which thou hast spared. 3360 Forthi to thi salvacion Thou schalt have enformacioun, Such as Silvestre schal the teche: The nedeth of non other leche.”

This Emperour, which al this herde, “Grant merci lordes,” he ansuerde, “I wol do so as ye me seie. Bot of o thing I wolde preie: What schal I telle unto Silvestre Or of youre name or of youre estre?” 3370 And thei him tolden what thei hihte, And forth withal out of his sihte Thei passen up into the hevene. And he awok out of his swevene, And clepeth, and men come anon: He tolde his drem, and therupon In such a wise as he hem telleth The Mont wher that Silvestre duelleth Thei have in alle haste soght, And founde he was and with hem broght 3380 To themperour, which to him tolde His swevene and elles what he wolde. And whan Silvestre hath herd the king, He was riht joiful of this thing, And him began with al his wit To techen upon holi writ Ferst how mankinde was forlore, And how the hihe god therfore His Sone sende from above, Which bore was for mannes love, 3390 And after of his oghne chois He tok his deth upon the crois; And how in grave he was beloke, And how that he hath helle broke, And tok hem out that were him lieve; And forto make ous full believe That he was verrai goddes Sone, Ayein the kinde of mannes wone Fro dethe he ros the thridde day, And whanne he wolde, as he wel may, 3400 He styh up to his fader evene With fleissh and blod into the hevene; And riht so in the same forme In fleissh and blod he schal reforme, Whan time comth, the qwike and dede At thilke woful dai of drede, Where every man schal take his dom, Als wel the Maister as the grom. The mihti kinges retenue That dai may stonde of no value 3410 With worldes strengthe to defende; For every man mot thanne entende To stonde upon his oghne dedes And leve alle othre mennes nedes. That dai mai no consail availe, The pledour and the plee schal faile, The sentence of that ilke day Mai non appell sette in delay; Ther mai no gold the Jugge plie, That he ne schal the sothe trie 3420 And setten every man upriht, Als wel the plowman as the kniht: The lewed man, the grete clerk Schal stonde upon his oghne werk, And such as he is founde tho, Such schal he be for everemo. Ther mai no peine be relessed, Ther mai no joie ben encressed, Bot endeles, as thei have do, He schal receive on of the tuo. 3430 And thus Silvestre with his sawe The ground of al the newe lawe With gret devocion he precheth, Fro point to point and pleinly techeth Unto this hethen Emperour; And seith, the hihe creatour Hath underfonge his charite, Of that he wroghte such pite, Whan he the children hadde on honde. Thus whan this lord hath understonde 3440 Of al this thing how that it ferde, Unto Silvestre he thanne ansuerde, With al his hole herte and seith That he is redi to the feith. And so the vessel which for blod Was mad, Silvestre, ther it stod, With clene water of the welle In alle haste he let do felle, And sette Constantin therinne Al naked up unto the chinne. 3450 And in the while it was begunne, A liht, as thogh it were a Sunne, Fro hevene into the place com Wher that he tok his cristendom; And evere among the holi tales Lich as thei weren fisshes skales Ther fellen from him now and eft, Til that ther was nothing beleft Of al his grete maladie. For he that wolde him purefie, 3460 The hihe god hath mad him clene, So that ther lefte nothing sene; He hath him clensed bothe tuo, The bodi and the Soule also.

Tho knew this Emperour in dede That Cristes feith was forto drede, And sende anon hise lettres oute And let do crien al aboute, Up peine of deth that noman weyve That he baptesme ne receive: 3470 After his Moder qweene Heleine He sende, and so betwen hem tweine Thei treten, that the Cite all Was cristned, and sche forth withall. This Emperour, which hele hath founde, Withinne Rome anon let founde Tuo cherches, which he dede make For Peter and for Poules sake, Of whom he hadde avisioun; And yaf therto possessioun 3480 Of lordschipe and of worldes good. Bot how so that his will was good Toward the Pope and his Franchise, Yit hath it proved other wise, To se the worchinge of the dede: For in Cronique this I rede; Anon as he hath mad the yifte, A vois was herd on hih the lifte, Of which al Rome was adrad, And seith: “To day is venym schad 3490 In holi cherche of temporal, Which medleth with the spirital.” And hou it stant of that degree Yit mai a man the sothe se: God mai amende it, whan he wile, I can ther to non other skile.

Bot forto go ther I began, How charite mai helpe a man To bothe worldes, I have seid: And if thou have an Ere leid, 3500 Mi Sone, thou miht understonde, If charite be take on honde, Ther folweth after mochel grace. Forthi, if that thou wolt pourchace How that thou miht Envie flee, Aqueinte thee with charite, Which is the vertu sovereine.

Mi fader, I schal do my peine: For this ensample which ye tolde With al myn herte I have withholde, 3510 So that I schal for everemore Eschuie Envie wel the more: And that I have er this misdo, Yif me my penance er I go. And over that to mi matiere Of schrifte, why we sitten hiere In privete betwen ous tweie, Now axeth what ther is, I preie.

Mi goode Sone, and for thi lore I woll thee telle what is more, 3520 So that thou schalt the vices knowe: For whan thei be to thee full knowe, Thou miht hem wel the betre eschuie. And for this cause I thenke suie The forme bothe and the matiere, As now suiende thou schalt hiere Which vice stant next after this: And whan thou wost how that it is, As thou schalt hiere me devise, Thow miht thiself the betre avise. 3530

Explicit Liber Secundus

Incipit Liber Tercius

_Ira suis paribus est par furiis Acherontis, Quo furor ad tempus nil pietatis habet. Ira malencolicos animos perturbat, vt equo Iure sui pondus nulla statera tenet. Omnibus in causis grauat Ira, set inter amantes, Illa magis facili sorte grauamen agit: Est vbi vir discors leuiterque repugnat amori, Sepe loco ludi fletus ad ora venit._

If thou the vices lest to knowe, Mi Sone, it hath noght ben unknowe, Fro ferst that men the swerdes grounde, That ther nis on upon this grounde, A vice forein fro the lawe, Wherof that many a good felawe Hath be distraght be sodein chance; And yit to kinde no plesance It doth, bot wher he most achieveth His pourpos, most to kinde he grieveth, 10 As he which out of conscience Is enemy to pacience: And is be name on of the Sevene, Which ofte hath set this world unevene, And cleped is the cruel Ire, Whos herte is everemore on fyre To speke amis and to do bothe, For his servantz ben evere wrothe.

Mi goode fader, tell me this: What thing is Ire? Sone, it is 20 That in oure englissh Wrathe is hote, Which hath hise wordes ay so hote, That all a mannes pacience Is fyred of the violence. For he with him hath evere fyve Servantz that helpen him to stryve: The ferst of hem Malencolie Is cleped, which in compaignie An hundred times in an houre Wol as an angri beste loure, 30 And noman wot the cause why. Mi Sone, schrif thee now forthi: Hast thou be Malencolien?

Ye, fader, be seint Julien, Bot I untrewe wordes use, I mai me noght therof excuse: And al makth love, wel I wot, Of which myn herte is evere hot, So that I brenne as doth a glede For Wrathe that I mai noght spede. 40 And thus fulofte a day for noght Save onlich of myn oghne thoght I am so with miselven wroth, That how so that the game goth With othre men, I am noght glad; Bot I am wel the more unglad, For that is othre mennes game It torneth me to pure grame. Thus am I with miself oppressed Of thoght, the which I have impressed, 50 That al wakende I dreme and meete That I with hire al one meete And preie hire of som good ansuere: Bot for sche wol noght gladly swere, Sche seith me nay withouten oth; And thus wexe I withinne wroth, That outward I am al affraied, And so distempred and esmaied. A thousand times on a day Ther souneth in myn Eres nay, 60 The which sche seide me tofore: Thus be my wittes as forlore; And namely whan I beginne To rekne with miself withinne How many yeres ben agon, Siththe I have trewly loved on And nevere tok of other hede, And evere aliche fer to spede I am, the more I with hir dele, So that myn happ and al myn hele 70 Me thenkth is ay the leng the ferre, That bringth my gladschip out of herre, Wherof my wittes ben empeired, And I, as who seith, al despeired. For finaly, whan that I muse And thenke how sche me wol refuse, I am with anger so bestad, For al this world mihte I be glad: And for the while that it lasteth Al up so doun my joie it casteth, 80 And ay the furthere that I be, Whan I ne may my ladi se, The more I am redy to wraththe, That for the touchinge of a laththe Or for the torninge of a stree I wode as doth the wylde Se, And am so malencolious, That ther nys servant in myn hous Ne non of tho that ben aboute, That ech of hem ne stant in doute, 90 And wenen that I scholde rave For Anger that thei se me have; And so thei wondre more and lasse, Til that thei sen it overpasse. Bot, fader, if it so betide, That I aproche at eny tide The place wher my ladi is, And thanne that hire like ywiss To speke a goodli word untome, For al the gold that is in Rome 100 Ne cowthe I after that be wroth, Bot al myn Anger overgoth; So glad I am of the presence Of hire, that I all offence Foryete, as thogh it were noght, So overgladed is my thoght. And natheles, the soth to telle, Ayeinward if it so befelle That I at thilke time sihe On me that sche miscaste hire yhe, 110 Or that sche liste noght to loke, And I therof good hiede toke, Anon into my ferste astat I torne, and am with al so mat, That evere it is aliche wicke. And thus myn hand ayein the pricke I hurte and have do many day, And go so forth as I go may, Fulofte bitinge on my lippe, And make unto miself a whippe. 120 With which in many a chele and hete Mi wofull herte is so tobete, That all my wittes ben unsofte And I am wroth, I not how ofte; And al it is Malencolie, Which groweth of the fantasie Of love, that me wol noght loute: So bere I forth an angri snoute Ful manye times in a yer. Bot, fader, now ye sitten hier 130 In loves stede, I yow beseche, That som ensample ye me teche, Wherof I mai miself appese.

Mi Sone, for thin hertes ese I schal fulfille thi preiere, So that thou miht the betre lere What mischief that this vice stereth, Which in his Anger noght forbereth, Wherof that after him forthenketh, Whan he is sobre and that he thenketh 140 Upon the folie of his dede; And of this point a tale I rede.

Ther was a king which Eolus Was hote, and it befell him thus, That he tuo children hadde faire, The Sone cleped was Machaire, The dowhter ek Canace hihte. Be daie bothe and ek be nyhte, Whil thei be yonge, of comun wone In chambre thei togedre wone, 150 And as thei scholden pleide hem ofte, Til thei be growen up alofte Into the youthe of lusti age, Whan kinde assaileth the corage With love and doth him forto bowe, That he no reson can allowe, Bot halt the lawes of nature: For whom that love hath under cure, As he is blind himself, riht so He makth his client blind also. 160 In such manere as I you telle As thei al day togedre duelle, This brother mihte it noght asterte That he with al his hole herte His love upon his Soster caste: And so it fell hem ate laste, That this Machaire with Canace Whan thei were in a prive place, Cupide bad hem ferst to kesse, And after sche which is Maistresse 170 In kinde and techeth every lif Withoute lawe positif, Of which sche takth nomaner charge, Bot kepth hire lawes al at large, Nature, tok hem into lore And tawht hem so, that overmore Sche hath hem in such wise daunted, That thei were, as who seith, enchaunted. And as the blinde an other ledeth And til thei falle nothing dredeth, 180 Riht so thei hadde non insihte; Bot as the bridd which wole alihte And seth the mete and noght the net, Which in deceipte of him is set, This yonge folk no peril sihe, Bot that was likinge in here yhe, So that thei felle upon the chance Where witt hath lore his remembrance. So longe thei togedre assemble, The wombe aros, and sche gan tremble, 190 And hield hire in hire chambre clos For drede it scholde be disclos And come to hire fader Ere: Wherof the Sone hadde also fere, And feigneth cause forto ryde; For longe dorste he noght abyde, In aunter if men wolde sein That he his Soster hath forlein: For yit sche hadde it noght beknowe Whos was the child at thilke throwe. 200 Machaire goth, Canace abit, The which was noght delivered yit, Bot riht sone after that sche was.

Now lest and herkne a woful cas. The sothe, which mai noght ben hid, Was ate laste knowe and kid Unto the king, how that it stod. And whan that he it understod, Anon into Malencolie, As thogh it were a frenesie, 210 He fell, as he which nothing cowthe How maistrefull love is in yowthe: And for he was to love strange, He wolde noght his herte change To be benigne and favorable To love, bot unmerciable Betwen the wawe of wod and wroth Into his dowhtres chambre he goth, And sih the child was late bore, Wherof he hath hise othes swore 220 That sche it schal ful sore abye. And sche began merci to crie, Upon hire bare knes and preide, And to hire fader thus sche seide: “Ha mercy! fader, thenk I am Thi child, and of thi blod I cam. That I misdede yowthe it made, And in the flodes bad me wade, Wher that I sih no peril tho: Bot now it is befalle so, 230 Merci, my fader, do no wreche!” And with that word sche loste speche And fell doun swounende at his fot, As sche for sorwe nedes mot. Bot his horrible crualte Ther mihte attempre no pite: Out of hire chambre forth he wente Al full of wraththe in his entente, And tok the conseil in his herte That sche schal noght the deth asterte, 240 As he which Malencolien Of pacience hath no lien, Wherof the wraththe he mai restreigne. And in this wilde wode peine, Whanne al his resoun was untame, A kniht he clepeth be his name, And tok him as be weie of sonde A naked swerd to bere on honde, And seide him that he scholde go And telle unto his dowhter so 250 In the manere as he him bad, How sche that scharpe swerdes blad Receive scholde and do withal So as sche wot wherto it schal. Forth in message goth this kniht Unto this wofull yonge wiht, This scharpe swerd to hire he tok: Wherof that al hire bodi qwok, For wel sche wiste what it mente, And that it was to thilke entente 260 That sche hireselven scholde slee. And to the kniht sche seide: “Yee, Now that I wot my fadres wille, That I schal in this wise spille, I wole obeie me therto, And as he wole it schal be do. Bot now this thing mai be non other, I wole a lettre unto mi brother, So as my fieble hand may wryte, With al my wofull herte endite.” 270 Sche tok a Penne on honde tho, Fro point to point and al the wo, Als ferforth as hireself it wot, Unto hire dedly frend sche wrot, And tolde how that hire fader grace Sche mihte for nothing pourchace; And overthat, as thou schalt hiere, Sche wrot and seide in this manere: “O thou my sorwe and my gladnesse, O thou myn hele and my siknesse, 280 O my wanhope and al my trust, O my desese and al my lust, O thou my wele, o thou my wo, O thou my frend, o thou my fo, O thou my love, o thou myn hate, For thee mot I be ded algate. Thilke ende may I noght asterte, And yit with al myn hole herte, Whil that me lasteth eny breth, I wol the love into my deth. 290 Bot of o thing I schal thee preie, If that my litel Sone deie, Let him be beried in my grave Beside me, so schalt thou have Upon ous bothe remembrance. For thus it stant of my grevance; Now at this time, as thou schalt wite, With teres and with enke write This lettre I have in cares colde: In my riht hond my Penne I holde, 300 And in my left the swerd I kepe, And in my barm ther lith to wepe Thi child and myn, which sobbeth faste. Now am I come unto my laste: Fare wel, for I schal sone deie, And thenk how I thi love abeie.” The pomel of the swerd to grounde Sche sette, and with the point a wounde Thurghout hire herte anon sche made, And forth with that al pale and fade 310 Sche fell doun ded fro ther sche stod. The child lay bathende in hire blod Out rolled fro the moder barm, And for the blod was hot and warm, He basketh him aboute thrinne. Ther was no bote forto winne, For he, which can no pite knowe, The king cam in the same throwe, And sih how that his dowhter dieth And how this Babe al blody crieth; 320 Bot al that mihte him noght suffise, That he ne bad to do juise Upon the child, and bere him oute, And seche in the Forest aboute Som wilde place, what it were, To caste him out of honde there, So that som best him mai devoure, Where as noman him schal socoure. Al that he bad was don in dede: Ha, who herde evere singe or rede 330 Of such a thing as that was do? Bot he which ladde his wraththe so Hath knowe of love bot a lite; Bot for al that he was to wyte, Thurgh his sodein Malencolie To do so gret a felonie.

Forthi, my Sone, how so it stonde, Be this cas thou miht understonde That if thou evere in cause of love Schalt deme, and thou be so above 340 That thou miht lede it at thi wille, Let nevere thurgh thi Wraththe spille Which every kinde scholde save. For it sit every man to have Reward to love and to his miht, Ayein whos strengthe mai no wiht: And siththe an herte is so constreigned, The reddour oghte be restreigned To him that mai no bet aweie, Whan he mot to nature obeie. 350 For it is seid thus overal, That nedes mot that nede schal Of that a lif doth after kinde, Wherof he mai no bote finde. What nature hath set in hir lawe Ther mai no mannes miht withdrawe, And who that worcheth therayein, Fulofte time it hath be sein, Ther hath befalle gret vengance, Wherof I finde a remembrance. 360

Ovide after the time tho Tolde an ensample and seide so, How that whilom Tiresias, As he walkende goth per cas, Upon an hih Montaine he sih Tuo Serpentz in his weie nyh, And thei, so as nature hem tawhte, Assembled were, and he tho cawhte A yerde which he bar on honde, And thoghte that he wolde fonde 370 To letten hem, and smot hem bothe: Wherof the goddes weren wrothe; And for he hath destourbed kinde And was so to nature unkinde, Unkindeliche he was transformed, That he which erst a man was formed Into a womman was forschape. That was to him an angri jape; Bot for that he with Angre wroghte, Hise Angres angreliche he boghte. 380

Lo thus, my Sone, Ovide hath write, Wherof thou miht be reson wite, More is a man than such a beste: So mihte it nevere ben honeste A man to wraththen him to sore Of that an other doth the lore Of kinde, in which is no malice, Bot only that it is a vice: And thogh a man be resonable, Yit after kinde he is menable 390 To love, wher he wole or non. Thenk thou, my Sone, therupon And do Malencolie aweie; For love hath evere his lust to pleie, As he which wolde no lif grieve.

Mi fader, that I mai wel lieve; Al that ye tellen it is skile: Let every man love as he wile, Be so it be noght my ladi, For I schal noght be wroth therby. 400 Bot that I wraththe and fare amis, Al one upon miself it is, That I with bothe love and kinde Am so bestad, that I can finde No weie how I it mai asterte: Which stant upon myn oghne herte And toucheth to non other lif, Save only to that swete wif For whom, bot if it be amended, Mi glade daies ben despended, 410 That I miself schal noght forbere The Wraththe which that I now bere, For therof is non other leche. Now axeth forth, I yow beseche, Of Wraththe if ther oght elles is, Wherof to schryve. Sone, yis.

Of Wraththe the secounde is Cheste, Which hath the wyndes of tempeste To kepe, and many a sodein blast He bloweth, wherof ben agast 420 Thei that desiren pes and reste. He is that ilke ungoodlieste Which many a lusti love hath twinned; For he berth evere his mowth unpinned, So that his lippes ben unloke And his corage is al tobroke, That every thing which he can telle, It springeth up as doth a welle, Which mai non of his stremes hyde, Bot renneth out on every syde. 430 So buillen up the foule sawes That Cheste wot of his felawes: For as a Sive kepeth Ale, Riht so can Cheste kepe a tale; Al that he wot he wol desclose, And speke er eny man oppose. As a Cite withoute wal, Wher men mai gon out overal Withouten eny resistence, So with his croked eloquence 440 He spekth al that he wot withinne: Wherof men lese mor than winne, For ofte time of his chidinge He bringth to house such tidinge, That makth werre ate beddeshed. He is the levein of the bred, Which soureth al the past aboute: Men oghte wel such on to doute, For evere his bowe is redi bent, And whom he hit I telle him schent, 450 If he mai perce him with his tunge. And ek so lowde his belle is runge, That of the noise and of the soun Men feeren hem in al the toun Welmore than thei don of thonder. For that is cause of more wonder; For with the wyndes whiche he bloweth Fulofte sythe he overthroweth The Cites and the policie, That I have herd the poeple crie, 460 And echon seide in his degre, “Ha wicke tunge, wo thee be!” For men sein that the harde bon, Althogh himselven have non, A tunge brekth it al to pieces. He hath so manye sondri spieces Of vice, that I mai noght wel Descrive hem be a thousendel: Bot whan that he to Cheste falleth, Ful many a wonder thing befalleth, 470 For he ne can nothing forbere.

Now tell me, Sone, thin ansuere, If it hath evere so betidd, That thou at eny time hast chidd Toward thi love.

Fader, nay: Such Cheste yit unto this day Ne made I nevere, god forbede: For er I sunge such a crede, I hadde levere to be lewed; For thanne were I al beschrewed 480 And worthi to be put abak With al the sorwe upon my bak That eny man ordeigne cowthe. Bot I spak nevere yit be mowthe That unto Cheste mihte touche, And that I durste riht wel vouche Upon hirself as for witnesse; For I wot, of hir gentilesse That sche me wolde wel excuse, That I no suche thinges use. 490 And if it scholde so betide That I algates moste chide, It myhte noght be to my love: For so yit was I nevere above, For al this wyde world to winne That I dorste eny word beginne, Be which sche mihte have ben amoeved And I of Cheste also reproeved. Bot rathere, if it mihte hir like, The beste wordes wolde I pike 500 Whiche I cowthe in myn herte chese, And serve hem forth in stede of chese, For that is helplich to defie; And so wolde I my wordes plie, That mihten Wraththe and Cheste avale With tellinge of my softe tale. Thus dar I make a foreward, That nevere unto my ladiward Yit spak I word in such a wise, Wherof that Cheste scholde arise. 510 This seie I noght, that I fulofte Ne have, whanne I spak most softe, Per cas seid more thanne ynowh; Bot so wel halt noman the plowh That he ne balketh otherwhile, Ne so wel can noman affile His tunge, that som time in rape Him mai som liht word overscape, And yit ne meneth he no Cheste. Bot that I have ayein hir heste 520 Fulofte spoke, I am beknowe; And how my will is, that ye knowe: For whan my time comth aboute, That I dar speke and seie al oute Mi longe love, of which sche wot That evere in on aliche hot Me grieveth, thanne al my desese I telle, and though it hir desplese, I speke it forth and noght ne leve: And thogh it be beside hire leve, 530 I hope and trowe natheles That I do noght ayein the pes; For thogh I telle hire al my thoght, Sche wot wel that I chyde noght. Men mai the hihe god beseche, And he wol hiere a mannes speche And be noght wroth of that he seith; So yifth it me the more feith And makth me hardi, soth to seie, That I dar wel the betre preie 540 Mi ladi, which a womman is. For thogh I telle hire that or this Of love, which me grieveth sore, Hire oghte noght be wroth the more, For I withoute noise or cri Mi pleignte make al buxomly To puten alle wraththe away. Thus dar I seie unto this day Of Cheste in ernest or in game Mi ladi schal me nothing blame. 550

Bot ofte time it hath betidd That with miselven I have chidd, That noman couthe betre chide: And that hath ben at every tide, Whanne I cam to miself al one; For thanne I made a prive mone, And every tale by and by, Which as I spak to my ladi, I thenke and peise in my balance And drawe into my remembrance; 560 And thanne, if that I finde a lak Of eny word that I mispak, Which was to moche in eny wise, Anon my wittes I despise And make a chidinge in myn herte, That eny word me scholde asterte Which as I scholde have holden inne. And so forth after I beginne And loke if ther was elles oght To speke, and I ne spak it noght: 570 And thanne, if I mai seche and finde That eny word be left behinde, Which as I scholde more have spoke, I wolde upon miself be wroke, And chyde with miselven so That al my wit is overgo. For noman mai his time lore Recovere, and thus I am therfore So overwroth in al my thoght, That I myself chide al to noght: 580 Thus for to moche or for to lite Fulofte I am miself to wyte. Bot al that mai me noght availe, With cheste thogh I me travaile: Bot Oule on Stock and Stock on Oule; The more that a man defoule, Men witen wel which hath the werse; And so to me nys worth a kerse, Bot torneth on myn oghne hed, Thogh I, til that I were ded, 590 Wolde evere chyde in such a wise Of love as I to you devise. Bot, fader, now ye have al herd In this manere how I have ferd Of Cheste and of dissencioun, Yif me youre absolucioun.

Mi Sone, if that thou wistest al, What Cheste doth in special To love and to his welwillinge, Thou woldest flen his knowlechinge 600 And lerne to be debonaire. For who that most can speke faire Is most acordende unto love: Fair speche hath ofte brought above Ful many a man, as it is knowe, Which elles scholde have be riht lowe And failed mochel of his wille. Forthi hold thou thi tunge stille And let thi witt thi wille areste, So that thou falle noght in Cheste, 610 Which is the source of gret destance: And tak into thi remembrance If thou miht gete pacience, Which is the leche of alle offence, As tellen ous these olde wise: For whan noght elles mai suffise Be strengthe ne be mannes wit, Than pacience it oversit And overcomth it ate laste; Bot he mai nevere longe laste, 620 Which wol noght bowe er that he breke. Tak hiede, Sone, of that I speke.

Mi fader, of your goodli speche And of the witt which ye me teche I thonke you with al myn herte: For that world schal me nevere asterte, That I ne schal your wordes holde, Of Pacience as ye me tolde, Als ferforth as myn herte thenketh; And of my wraththe it me forthenketh. 630 Bot, fader, if ye forth withal Som good ensample in special Me wolden telle of som Cronique, It scholde wel myn herte like Of pacience forto hiere, So that I mihte in mi matiere The more unto my love obeie And puten mi desese aweie.

Mi Sone, a man to beie him pes Behoveth soffre as Socrates 640 Ensample lefte, which is write: And for thou schalt the sothe wite, Of this ensample what I mene, Althogh it be now litel sene Among the men thilke evidence, Yit he was upon pacience So sett, that he himself assaie In thing which mihte him most mispaie Desireth, and a wickid wif He weddeth, which in sorwe and strif 650 Ayein his ese was contraire. Bot he spak evere softe and faire, Til it befell, as it is told, In wynter, whan the dai is cold, This wif was fro the welle come, Wher that a pot with water nome Sche hath, and broghte it into house, And sih how that hire seli spouse Was sett and loked on a bok Nyh to the fyr, as he which tok 660 His ese for a man of age. And sche began the wode rage, And axeth him what devel he thoghte, And bar on hond that him ne roghte What labour that sche toke on honde, And seith that such an Housebonde Was to a wif noght worth a Stre. He seide nowther nay ne ye, Bot hield him stille and let hire chyde; And sche, which mai hirself noght hyde, 670 Began withinne forto swelle, And that sche broghte in fro the welle, The waterpot sche hente alofte And bad him speke, and he al softe Sat stille and noght a word ansuerde; And sche was wroth that he so ferde, And axeth him if he be ded; And al the water on his hed Sche pourede oute and bad awake. Bot he, which wolde noght forsake 680 His Pacience, thanne spak, And seide how that he fond no lak In nothing which sche hadde do: For it was wynter time tho, And wynter, as be weie of kinde Which stormy is, as men it finde, Ferst makth the wyndes forto blowe, And after that withinne a throwe He reyneth and the watergates Undoth; “and thus my wif algates, 690 Which is with reson wel besein, Hath mad me bothe wynd and rein After the Sesoun of the yer.” And thanne he sette him nerr the fer, And as he mihte hise clothes dreide, That he nomore o word ne seide; Wherof he gat him somdel reste, For that him thoghte was the beste.

I not if thilke ensample yit Acordeth with a mannes wit, 700 To soffre as Socrates tho dede: And if it falle in eny stede A man to lese so his galle, Him oghte among the wommen alle In loves Court be juggement The name bere of Pacient, To yive ensample to the goode Of pacience how that it stode, That othre men it mihte knowe. And, Sone, if thou at eny throwe 710 Be tempted ayein Pacience, Tak hiede upon this evidence; It schal per cas the lasse grieve.

Mi fader, so as I believe, Of that schal be no maner nede, For I wol take so good hiede, That er I falle in such assai, I thenke eschuie it, if I mai. Bot if ther be oght elles more Wherof I mihte take lore, 720 I preie you, so as I dar, Now telleth, that I mai be war, Som other tale in this matiere.

Sone, it is evere good to lere, Wherof thou miht thi word restreigne, Er that thou falle in eny peine. For who that can no conseil hyde, He mai noght faile of wo beside, Which schal befalle er he it wite, As I finde in the bokes write. 730

Yit cam ther nevere good of strif, To seche in all a mannes lif: Thogh it beginne on pure game, Fulofte it torneth into grame And doth grevance upon som side. Wherof the grete Clerk Ovide After the lawe which was tho Of Jupiter and of Juno Makth in his bokes mencioun How thei felle at dissencioun 740 In manere as it were a borde, As thei begunne forto worde Among hemself in privete: And that was upon this degree, Which of the tuo more amorous is, Or man or wif. And upon this Thei mihten noght acorde in on, And toke a jugge therupon, Which cleped is Tiresias, And bede him demen in the cas; 750 And he withoute avisement Ayein Juno yaf juggement. This goddesse upon his ansuere Was wroth and wolde noght forbere, Bot tok awey for everemo The liht fro bothe hise yhen tuo. Whan Jupiter this harm hath sein, An other bienfait therayein He yaf, and such a grace him doth, That for he wiste he seide soth, 760 A Sothseiere he was for evere: Bot yit that other were levere, Have had the lokinge of his yhe, Than of his word the prophecie; Bot how so that the sothe wente, Strif was the cause of that he hente So gret a peine bodily.

Mi Sone, be thou war ther by, And hold thi tunge stille clos: For who that hath his word desclos 770 Er that he wite what he mene, He is fulofte nyh his tene And lest ful many time grace, Wher that he wolde his thonk pourchace. And over this, my Sone diere, Of othre men, if thou miht hiere In privete what thei have wroght, Hold conseil and descoevere it noght, For Cheste can no conseil hele, Or be it wo or be it wele: 780 And tak a tale into thi mynde, The which of olde ensample I finde.

Phebus, which makth the daies lihte, A love he hadde, which tho hihte Cornide, whom aboven alle He pleseth: bot what schal befalle Of love ther is noman knoweth, Bot as fortune hire happes throweth. So it befell upon a chaunce, A yong kniht tok hire aqueintance 790 And hadde of hire al that he wolde: Bot a fals bridd, which sche hath holde And kept in chambre of pure yowthe, Discoevereth all that evere he cowthe. This briddes name was as tho Corvus, the which was thanne also Welmore whyt than eny Swan, And he that schrewe al that he can Of his ladi to Phebus seide; And he for wraththe his swerd outbreide, 800 With which Cornide anon he slowh. Bot after him was wo ynowh, And tok a full gret repentance, Wherof in tokne and remembrance Of hem whiche usen wicke speche, Upon this bridd he tok this wreche, That ther he was snow whyt tofore, Evere afterward colblak therfore He was transformed, as it scheweth, And many a man yit him beschreweth, 810 And clepen him into this day A Raven, be whom yit men mai Take evidence, whan he crieth, That som mishapp it signefieth. Be war therfore and sei the beste, If thou wolt be thiself in reste, Mi goode Sone, as I the rede.

For in an other place I rede Of thilke Nimphe which Laar hihte: For sche the privete be nyhte, 820 How Jupiter lay be Jutorne, Hath told, god made hire overtorne: Hire tunge he kutte, and into helle For evere he sende hir forto duelle, As sche that was noght worthi hiere To ben of love a Chamberere, For sche no conseil cowthe hele. And suche adaies be now fele In loves Court, as it is seid, That lete here tunges gon unteid. 830

Mi Sone, be thou non of tho, To jangle and telle tales so, And namely that thou ne chyde, For Cheste can no conseil hide, For Wraththe seide nevere wel.

Mi fader, soth is everydel That ye me teche, and I wol holde The reule to which I am holde, To fle the Cheste, as ye me bidde, For wel is him that nevere chidde. 840 Now tell me forth if ther be more As touchende unto Wraththes lore.

Of Wraththe yit ther is an other, Which is to Cheste his oghne brother, And is be name cleped Hate, That soffreth noght withinne his gate That ther come owther love or pes, For he wol make no reles Of no debat which is befalle.

Now spek, if thou art on of alle, 850 That with this vice hast ben withholde.

As yit for oght that ye me tolde, Mi fader, I not what it is.

In good feith, Sone, I trowe yis.

Mi fader, nay, bot ye me lere.

Now lest, my Sone, and thou schalt here. Hate is a wraththe noght schewende, Bot of long time gaderende, And duelleth in the herte loken, Til he se time to be wroken; 860 And thanne he scheweth his tempeste Mor sodein than the wilde beste, Which wot nothing what merci is. Mi Sone, art thou knowende of this?

My goode fader, as I wene, Now wot I somdel what ye mene; Bot I dar saufly make an oth, Mi ladi was me nevere loth. I wol noght swere natheles That I of hate am gulteles; 870 For whanne I to my ladi plie Fro dai to dai and merci crie, And sche no merci on me leith Bot schorte wordes to me seith, Thogh I my ladi love algate, Tho wordes moste I nedes hate; And wolde thei were al despent, Or so ferr oute of londe went That I nevere after scholde hem hiere; And yit love I my ladi diere. 880 Thus is ther Hate, as ye mai se, Betwen mi ladi word and me; The word I hate and hire I love, What so me schal betide of love.

Bot forthere mor I wol me schryve, That I have hated al my lyve These janglers, whiche of here Envie Ben evere redi forto lie; For with here fals compassement Fuloften thei have mad me schent 890 And hindred me fulofte time, Whan thei no cause wisten bime, Bot onliche of here oghne thoght: And thus fuloften have I boght The lie, and drank noght of the wyn. I wolde here happ were such as myn: For how so that I be now schrive, To hem ne mai I noght foryive, Til that I se hem at debat With love, and thanne myn astat 900 Thei mihten be here oghne deme, And loke how wel it scholde hem qweme To hindre a man that loveth sore. And thus I hate hem everemore, Til love on hem wol don his wreche: For that schal I alway beseche Unto the mihti Cupido, That he so mochel wolde do, So as he is of love a godd, To smyte hem with the same rodd 910 With which I am of love smite; So that thei mihten knowe and wite How hindringe is a wofull peine To him that love wolde atteigne. Thus evere on hem I wayte and hope, Til I mai sen hem lepe a lope, And halten on the same Sor Which I do now: for overmor I wolde thanne do my myht So forto stonden in here lyht, 920 That thei ne scholden finde a weie To that thei wolde, bot aweie I wolde hem putte out of the stede Fro love, riht as thei me dede With that thei speke of me be mowthe. So wolde I do, if that I cowthe, Of hem, and this, so god me save, Is al the hate that I have, Toward these janglers everydiel; I wolde alle othre ferde wel. 930 Thus have I, fader, said mi wille; Say ye now forth, for I am stille.

Mi Sone, of that thou hast me said I holde me noght fulli paid: That thou wolt haten eny man, To that acorden I ne can, Thogh he have hindred thee tofore. Bot this I telle thee therfore, Thou miht upon my beneicoun Wel haten the condicioun 940 Of tho janglers, as thou me toldest, Bot furthermor, of that thou woldest Hem hindre in eny other wise, Such Hate is evere to despise. Forthi, mi Sone, I wol thee rede, That thou drawe in be frendlihede That thou ne miht noght do be hate; So miht thou gete love algate And sette thee, my Sone, in reste, For thou schalt finde it for the beste. 950 And over this, so as I dar, I rede that thou be riht war Of othre mennes hate aboute, Which every wysman scholde doute: For Hate is evere upon await, And as the fisshere on his bait Sleth, whan he seth the fisshes faste, So, whan he seth time ate laste, That he mai worche an other wo, Schal noman tornen him therfro, 960 That Hate nyle his felonie Fulfille and feigne compaignie Yit natheles, for fals Semblant Is toward him of covenant Withholde, so that under bothe The prive wraththe can him clothe, That he schal seme of gret believe. Bot war thee wel that thou ne lieve Al that thou sest tofore thin yhe, So as the Gregois whilom syhe: 970 The bok of Troie who so rede, Ther mai he finde ensample in dede.

Sone after the destruccioun, Whan Troie was al bete doun And slain was Priamus the king, The Gregois, whiche of al this thing Ben cause, tornen hom ayein. Ther mai noman his happ withsein; It hath be sen and felt fulofte, The harde time after the softe: 980 Be See as thei forth homward wente, A rage of gret tempeste hem hente; Juno let bende hire parti bowe, The Sky wax derk, the wynd gan blowe, The firy welkne gan to thondre, As thogh the world scholde al to sondre; Fro hevene out of the watergates The reyni Storm fell doun algates And al here takel made unwelde, That noman mihte himself bewelde. 990 Ther mai men hiere Schipmen crie, That stode in aunter forto die: He that behinde sat to stiere Mai noght the forestempne hiere; The Schip aros ayein the wawes, The lodesman hath lost his lawes, The See bet in on every side: Thei nysten what fortune abide, Bot sette hem al in goddes wille, Wher he hem wolde save or spille. 1000

And it fell thilke time thus: Ther was a king, the which Namplus Was hote, and he a Sone hadde, At Troie which the Gregois ladde, As he that was mad Prince of alle, Til that fortune let him falle: His name was Palamades. Bot thurgh an hate natheles Of some of hem his deth was cast And he be tresoun overcast. 1010 His fader, whan he herde it telle, He swor, if evere his time felle, He wolde him venge, if that he mihte, And therto his avou behihte: And thus this king thurgh prive hate Abod upon await algate, For he was noght of such emprise To vengen him in open wise. The fame, which goth wyde where, Makth knowe how that the Gregois were 1020 Homward with al the felaschipe Fro Troie upon the See be Schipe. Namplus, whan he this understod, And knew the tydes of the flod, And sih the wynd blew to the lond, A gret deceipte anon he fond Of prive hate, as thou schalt hiere, Wherof I telle al this matiere. This king the weder gan beholde, And wiste wel thei moten holde 1030 Here cours endlong his marche riht, And made upon the derke nyht Of grete Schydes and of blockes Gret fyr ayein the grete rockes, To schewe upon the helles hihe, So that the Flete of Grece it sihe. And so it fell riht as he thoghte: This Flete, which an havene soghte, The bryghte fyres sih a ferr, And thei hem drowen nerr and nerr, 1040 And wende wel and understode How al that fyr was made for goode, To schewe wher men scholde aryve, And thiderward thei hasten blyve. In Semblant, as men sein, is guile, And that was proved thilke while; The Schip, which wende his helpe acroche, Drof al to pieces on the roche, And so ther deden ten or twelve; Ther mihte noman helpe himselve, 1050 For ther thei wenden deth ascape, Withouten help here deth was schape. Thus thei that comen ferst tofore Upon the Rockes be forlore, Bot thurgh the noise and thurgh the cri These othre were al war therby; And whan the dai began to rowe, Tho mihten thei the sothe knowe, That wher they wenden frendes finde, Thei founden frenschipe al behinde. 1060 The lond was thanne sone weyved, Wher that thei hadden be deceived, And toke hem to the hihe See; Therto thei seiden alle yee, Fro that dai forth and war thei were Of that thei hadde assaied there.

Mi Sone, hierof thou miht avise How fraude stant in many wise Amonges hem that guile thenke; Ther is no Scrivein with his enke 1070 Which half the fraude wryte can That stant in such a maner man: Forthi the wise men ne demen The thinges after that thei semen, Bot after that thei knowe and finde. The Mirour scheweth in his kinde As he hadde al the world withinne, And is in soth nothing therinne; And so farth Hate for a throwe: Til he a man hath overthrowe, 1080 Schal noman knowe be his chere Which is avant, ne which arere. Forthi, mi Sone, thenke on this.

Mi fader, so I wole ywiss; And if ther more of Wraththe be, Now axeth forth per charite, As ye be youre bokes knowe, And I the sothe schal beknowe.

Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde That yit towardes Wraththe stonde 1090 Of dedly vices othre tuo: And forto telle here names so, It is Contek and Homicide, That ben to drede on every side. Contek, so as the bokes sein, Folhast hath to his Chamberlein, Be whos conseil al unavised Is Pacience most despised, Til Homicide with hem meete. Fro merci thei ben al unmeete, 1100 And thus ben thei the worste of alle Of hem whiche unto wraththe falle, In dede bothe and ek in thoght: For thei acompte here wraththe at noght, Bot if ther be schedinge of blod; And thus lich to a beste wod Thei knowe noght the god of lif. Be so thei have or swerd or knif Here dedly wraththe forto wreke, Of Pite list hem noght to speke; 1110 Non other reson thei ne fonge, Bot that thei ben of mihtes stronge. Bot war hem wel in other place, Where every man behoveth grace, Bot ther I trowe it schal hem faile, To whom no merci mihte availe, Bot wroghten upon tiraundie, That no pite ne mihte hem plie. Now tell, my Sone.

Fader, what?

If thou hast be coupable of that. 1120

Mi fader, nay, Crist me forbiede: I speke onliche as of the dede, Of which I nevere was coupable Withoute cause resonable.

Bot this is noght to mi matiere Of schrifte, why we sitten hiere; For we ben sett to schryve of love, As we begunne ferst above: And natheles I am beknowe That as touchende of loves throwe, 1130 Whan I my wittes overwende, Min hertes contek hath non ende, Bot evere it stant upon debat To gret desese of myn astat As for the time that it lasteth. For whan mi fortune overcasteth Hire whiel and is to me so strange, And that I se sche wol noght change, Than caste I al the world aboute, And thenke hou I at home and oute 1140 Have al my time in vein despended, And se noght how to ben amended, Bot rathere forto be empeired, As he that is welnyh despeired: For I ne mai no thonk deserve, And evere I love and evere I serve, And evere I am aliche nerr. Thus, for I stonde in such a wer, I am, as who seith, out of herre; And thus upon miself the werre 1150 I bringe, and putte out alle pes, That I fulofte in such a res Am wery of myn oghne lif. So that of Contek and of strif I am beknowe and have ansuerd, As ye, my fader, now have herd. Min herte is wonderly begon With conseil, wherof witt is on, Which hath resoun in compaignie; Ayein the whiche stant partie 1160 Will, which hath hope of his acord, And thus thei bringen up descord. Witt and resoun conseilen ofte That I myn herte scholde softe, And that I scholde will remue And put him out of retenue, Or elles holde him under fote: For as thei sein, if that he mote His oghne rewle have upon honde, Ther schal no witt ben understonde. 1170 Of hope also thei tellen this, That overal, wher that he is, He set the herte in jeupartie With wihssinge and with fantasie, And is noght trewe of that he seith, So that in him ther is no feith: Thus with reson and wit avised Is will and hope aldai despised. Reson seith that I scholde leve To love, wher ther is no leve 1180 To spede, and will seith therayein That such an herte is to vilein, Which dar noght love and til he spede, Let hope serve at such a nede: He seith ek, where an herte sit Al hol governed upon wit, He hath this lyves lust forlore. And thus myn herte is al totore Of such a Contek as thei make: Bot yit I mai noght will forsake, 1190 That he nys Maister of my thoght, Or that I spede, or spede noght.

Thou dost, my Sone, ayein the riht; Bot love is of so gret a miht, His lawe mai noman refuse, So miht thou thee the betre excuse. And natheles thou schalt be lerned That will scholde evere be governed Of reson more than of kinde, Wherof a tale write I finde. 1200

A Philosophre of which men tolde Ther was whilom be daies olde, And Diogenes thanne he hihte. So old he was that he ne mihte The world travaile, and for the beste He schop him forto take his reste, And duelte at hom in such a wise, That nyh his hous he let devise Endlong upon an Axeltre To sette a tonne in such degre, 1210 That he it mihte torne aboute; Wherof on hed was taken oute, For he therinne sitte scholde And torne himself so as he wolde, To take their and se the hevene And deme of the planetes sevene, As he which cowthe mochel what. And thus fulofte there he sat To muse in his philosophie Solein withoute compaignie: 1220 So that upon a morwetyde, As thing which scholde so betyde, Whan he was set ther as him liste To loke upon the Sonne ariste, Wherof the propretes he sih, It fell ther cam ridende nyh King Alisandre with a route; And as he caste his yhe aboute, He sih this Tonne, and what it mente He wolde wite, and thider sente 1230 A knyht, be whom he mihte it knowe, And he himself that ilke throwe Abod, and hoveth there stille. This kniht after the kinges wille With spore made his hors to gon And to the tonne he cam anon, Wher that he fond a man of Age, And he him tolde the message, Such as the king him hadde bede, And axeth why in thilke stede 1240 The Tonne stod, and what it was. And he, which understod the cas, Sat stille and spak no word ayein. The kniht bad speke and seith, “Vilein, Thou schalt me telle, er that I go; It is thi king which axeth so.” “Mi king,” quod he, “that were unriht.” “What is he thanne?” seith the kniht, “Is he thi man?” “That seie I noght,” Quod he, “bot this I am bethoght, 1250 Mi mannes man hou that he is.” “Thou lyest, false cherl, ywiss,” The kniht him seith, and was riht wroth, And to the king ayein he goth And tolde him how this man ansuerde. The king, whan he this tale herde, Bad that thei scholden alle abyde, For he himself wol thider ryde. And whan he cam tofore the tonne, He hath his tale thus begonne: 1260 “Alheil,” he seith, “what man art thou?” Quod he, “Such on as thou sest now.” The king, which hadde wordes wise, His age wolde noght despise, Bot seith, “Mi fader, I thee preie That thou me wolt the cause seie, How that I am thi mannes man.” “Sire king,” quod he, “and that I can, If that thou wolt.” “Yis,” seith the king. Quod he, “This is the sothe thing: 1270 Sith I ferst resoun understod, And knew what thing was evel and good, The will which of my bodi moeveth, Whos werkes that the god reproeveth, I have restreigned everemore, As him which stant under the lore Of reson, whos soubgit he is, So that he mai noght don amis: And thus be weie of covenant Will is my man and my servant, 1280 And evere hath ben and evere schal. And thi will is thi principal, And hath the lordschipe of thi witt, So that thou cowthest nevere yit Take o dai reste of thi labour; Bot forto ben a conquerour Of worldes good, which mai noght laste, Thou hiest evere aliche faste, Wher thou no reson hast to winne: And thus thi will is cause of Sinne, 1290 And is thi lord, to whom thou servest, Wherof thou litel thonk deservest.” The king of that he thus answerde Was nothing wroth, bot whanne he herde The hihe wisdom which he seide, With goodly wordes this he preide, That he him wolde telle his name. “I am,” quod he, “that ilke same, The which men Diogenes calle.” Tho was the king riht glad withalle, 1300 For he hadde often herd tofore What man he was, so that therfore He seide, “O wise Diogene, Now schal thi grete witt be sene; For thou schalt of my yifte have What worldes thing that thou wolt crave.” Quod he, “Thanne hove out of mi Sonne, And let it schyne into mi Tonne; For thou benymst me thilke yifte, Which lith noght in thi miht to schifte: 1310 Non other good of thee me nedeth.”

This king, whom every contre dredeth, Lo, thus he was enformed there: Wherof, my Sone, thou miht lere How that thi will schal noght be lieved, Where it is noght of wit relieved. And thou hast seid thiself er this How that thi will thi maister is; Thurgh which thin hertes thoght withinne Is evere of Contek to beginne, 1320 So that it is gretli to drede That it non homicide brede. For love is of a wonder kinde, And hath hise wittes ofte blinde, That thei fro mannes reson falle; Bot whan that it is so befalle That will schal the corage lede, In loves cause it is to drede: Wherof I finde ensample write, Which is behovely forto wite. 1330

I rede a tale, and telleth this: The Cite which Semiramis Enclosed hath with wall aboute, Of worthi folk with many a route Was enhabited here and there; Among the whiche tuo ther were Above alle othre noble and grete, Dwellende tho withinne a Strete So nyh togedre, as it was sene, That ther was nothing hem betwene, 1340 Bot wow to wow and wall to wall. This o lord hadde in special A Sone, a lusti Bacheler, In al the toun was non his pier: That other hadde a dowhter eke, In al the lond that forto seke Men wisten non so faire as sche. And fell so, as it scholde be, This faire dowhter nyh this Sone As thei togedre thanne wone, 1350 Cupide hath so the thinges schape, That thei ne mihte his hand ascape, That he his fyr on hem ne caste: Wherof her herte he overcaste To folwe thilke lore and suie Which nevere man yit miht eschuie; And that was love, as it is happed, Which hath here hertes so betrapped, That thei be alle weies seche How that thei mihten winne a speche, 1360 Here wofull peine forto lisse.

Who loveth wel, it mai noght misse, And namely whan ther be tuo Of on acord, how so it go, Bot if that thei som weie finde; For love is evere of such a kinde And hath his folk so wel affaited, That howso that it be awaited, Ther mai noman the pourpos lette: And thus betwen hem tuo thei sette 1370 And hole upon a wall to make, Thurgh which thei have her conseil take At alle times, whan thei myhte. This faire Maiden Tisbee hihte, And he whom that sche loveth hote Was Piramus be name hote. So longe here lecoun thei recorden, Til ate laste thei acorden Be nihtes time forto wende Al one out fro the tounes ende, 1380 Wher was a welle under a Tree; And who cam ferst, or sche or he, He scholde stille there abide. So it befell the nyhtes tide This maiden, which desguised was, Al prively the softe pas Goth thurgh the large toun unknowe, Til that sche cam withinne a throwe Wher that sche liketh forto duelle, At thilke unhappi freisshe welle, 1390 Which was also the Forest nyh. Wher sche comende a Leoun syh Into the feld to take his preie, In haste and sche tho fledde aweie, So as fortune scholde falle, For feere and let hire wympel falle Nyh to the welle upon therbage. This Leoun in his wilde rage A beste, which that he fond oute, Hath slain, and with his blodi snoute, 1400 Whan he hath eten what he wolde, To drynke of thilke stremes colde Cam to the welle, where he fond The wympel, which out of hire hond Was falle, and he it hath todrawe, Bebled aboute and al forgnawe; And thanne he strawhte him forto drinke Upon the freisshe welles brinke, And after that out of the plein He torneth to the wode ayein. 1410 And Tisbee dorste noght remue, Bot as a bridd which were in Mue Withinne a buissh sche kepte hire clos So stille that sche noght aros; Unto hirself and pleigneth ay.

And fell, whil that sche there lay, This Piramus cam after sone Unto the welle, and be the Mone He fond hire wimpel blodi there. Cam nevere yit to mannes Ere 1420 Tidinge, ne to mannes sihte Merveile, which so sore aflihte A mannes herte, as it tho dede To him, which in the same stede With many a wofull compleignynge Began his handes forto wringe, As he which demeth sikerly That sche be ded: and sodeinly His swerd al nakid out he breide In his folhaste, and thus he seide: 1430 “I am cause of this felonie, So it is resoun that I die, As sche is ded be cause of me.” And with that word upon his kne He fell, and to the goddes alle Up to the hevene he gan to calle, And preide, sithen it was so That he may noght his love as tho Have in this world, that of her grace He miht hire have in other place, 1440 For hiere wolde he noght abide, He seith: bot as it schal betide, The Pomel of his swerd to grounde He sette, and thurgh his herte a wounde He made up to the bare hilte: And in this wise himself he spilte With his folhaste and deth he nam; For sche withinne a while cam, Wher he lai ded upon his knif. So wofull yit was nevere lif 1450 As Tisbee was, whan sche him sih: Sche mihte noght o word on hih Speke oute, for hire herte schette, That of hir lif no pris sche sette, Bot ded swounende doun sche fell. Til after, whanne it so befell That sche out of hire traunce awok, With many a wofull pitous lok Hire yhe alwei among sche caste Upon hir love, and ate laste 1460 Sche cawhte breth and seide thus: “O thou which cleped art Venus, Goddesse of love, and thou, Cupide, Which loves cause hast forto guide, I wot now wel that ye be blinde, Of thilke unhapp which I now finde Only betwen my love and me. This Piramus, which hiere I se Bledende, what hath he deserved? For he youre heste hath kept and served, 1470 And was yong and I bothe also: Helas, why do ye with ous so? Ye sette oure herte bothe afyre, And maden ous such thing desire Wherof that we no skile cowthe; Bot thus oure freisshe lusti yowthe Withoute joie is al despended, Which thing mai nevere ben amended: For as of me this wol I seie, That me is levere forto deie 1480 Than live after this sorghful day.” And with this word, where as he lay, Hire love in armes sche embraseth, Hire oghne deth and so pourchaseth That now sche wepte and nou sche kiste, Til ate laste, er sche it wiste, So gret a sorwe is to hire falle, Which overgoth hire wittes alle. As sche which mihte it noght asterte, The swerdes point ayein hire herte 1490 Sche sette, and fell doun therupon, Wherof that sche was ded anon: And thus bothe on o swerd bledende Thei weren founde ded liggende.

Now thou, mi Sone, hast herd this tale, Bewar that of thin oghne bale Thou be noght cause in thi folhaste, And kep that thou thi witt ne waste Upon thi thoght in aventure, Wherof thi lyves forfeture 1500 Mai falle: and if thou have so thoght Er this, tell on and hyde it noght.

Mi fader, upon loves side Mi conscience I woll noght hyde, How that for love of pure wo I have ben ofte moeved so, That with my wisshes if I myhte, A thousand times, I yow plyhte, I hadde storven in a day; And therof I me schryve may, 1510 Though love fully me ne slowh, Mi will to deie was ynowh, So am I of my will coupable: And yit is sche noght merciable, Which mai me yive lif and hele. Bot that hir list noght with me dele, I wot be whos conseil it is, And him wolde I long time er this, And yit I wolde and evere schal, Slen and destruie in special. 1520 The gold of nyne kinges londes Ne scholde him save fro myn hondes, In my pouer if that he were; Bot yit him stant of me no fere For noght that evere I can manace. He is the hindrere of mi grace, Til he be ded I mai noght spede; So mot I nedes taken hiede And schape how that he were aweie, If I therto mai finde a weie. 1530

Mi Sone, tell me now forthi, Which is that mortiel enemy That thou manacest to be ded.

Mi fader, it is such a qwed, That wher I come, he is tofore, And doth so, that mi cause is lore.

What is his name?

It is Daunger, Which is mi ladi consailer: For I was nevere yit so slyh, To come in eny place nyh 1540 Wher as sche was be nyht or day, That Danger ne was redy ay, With whom for speche ne for mede Yit mihte I nevere of love spede; For evere this I finde soth, Al that my ladi seith or doth To me, Daunger schal make an ende, And that makth al mi world miswende: And evere I axe his help, bot he Mai wel be cleped sanz pite; 1550 For ay the more I to him bowe, The lasse he wol my tale alowe. He hath mi ladi so englued, Sche wol noght that he be remued; For evere he hangeth on hire Seil, And is so prive of conseil, That evere whanne I have oght bede, I finde Danger in hire stede And myn ansuere of him I have; Bot for no merci that I crave, 1560 Of merci nevere a point I hadde. I finde his ansuere ay so badde, That werse mihte it nevere be: And thus betwen Danger and me Is evere werre til he dye. Bot mihte I ben of such maistrie, That I Danger hadde overcome, With that were al my joie come. Thus wolde I wonde for no Sinne, Ne yit for al this world to winne; 1570 If that I mihte finde a sleyhte, To leie al myn astat in weyhte, I wolde him fro the Court dissevere, So that he come ayeinward nevere. Therfore I wisshe and wolde fain That he were in som wise slain; For while he stant in thilke place, Ne gete I noght my ladi grace. Thus hate I dedly thilke vice, And wolde he stode in non office 1580 In place wher mi ladi is; For if he do, I wot wel this, That owther schal he deie or I Withinne a while; and noght forthi On my ladi fulofte I muse, How that sche mai hirself excuse, If that I deie in such a plit. Me thenkth sche mihte noght be qwyt That sche ne were an homicide: And if it scholde so betide, 1590 As god forbiede it scholde be, Be double weie it is pite. For I, which al my will and witt Have yove and served evere yit, And thanne I scholde in such a wise In rewardinge of my servise Be ded, me thenkth it were a rowthe: And furthermor, to telle trowthe, Sche, that hath evere be wel named, Were worthi thanne to be blamed 1600 And of reson to ben appeled, Whan with o word sche mihte have heled A man, and soffreth him so deie. Ha, who sawh evere such a weie? Ha, who sawh evere such destresse? Withoute pite gentilesse, Withoute mercy wommanhede, That wol so quyte a man his mede, Which evere hath be to love trewe. Mi goode fader, if ye rewe 1610 Upon mi tale, tell me now, And I wol stinte and herkne yow.

Mi Sone, attempre thi corage Fro Wraththe, and let thin herte assuage: For who so wole him underfonge, He mai his grace abide longe, Er he of love be received; And ek also, bot it be weyved, Ther mihte mochel thing befalle, That scholde make a man to falle 1620 Fro love, that nevere afterward Ne durste he loke thiderward. In harde weies men gon softe, And er thei clymbe avise hem ofte: Men sen alday that rape reweth; And who so wicked Ale breweth, Fulofte he mot the werse drinke: Betre is to flete than to sincke; Betre is upon the bridel chiewe Thanne if he felle and overthrewe, 1630 The hors and stikede in the Myr: To caste water in the fyr Betre is than brenne up al the hous: The man which is malicious And folhastif, fulofte he falleth, And selden is whan love him calleth. Forthi betre is to soffre a throwe Than be to wilde and overthrowe; Suffrance hath evere be the beste To wissen him that secheth reste: 1640 And thus, if thou wolt love and spede, Mi Sone, soffre, as I the rede. What mai the Mous ayein the Cat? And for this cause I axe that, Who mai to love make a werre, That he ne hath himself the werre? Love axeth pes and evere schal, And who that fihteth most withal Schal lest conquere of his emprise: For this thei tellen that ben wise, 1650 Wicke is to stryve and have the werse; To hasten is noght worth a kerse; Thing that a man mai noght achieve, That mai noght wel be don at Eve, It mot abide til the morwe. Ne haste noght thin oghne sorwe, Mi Sone, and tak this in thi witt, He hath noght lost that wel abitt.

Ensample that it falleth thus, Thou miht wel take of Piramus, 1660 Whan he in haste his swerd outdrowh And on the point himselve slowh For love of Tisbee pitously, For he hire wympel fond blody And wende a beste hire hadde slain; Wher as him oghte have be riht fain, For sche was there al sauf beside: Bot for he wolde noght abide, This meschief fell. Forthi be war, Mi Sone, as I the warne dar, 1670 Do thou nothing in such a res, For suffrance is the welle of Pes. Thogh thou to loves Court poursuie, Yit sit it wel that thou eschuie That thou the Court noght overhaste, For so miht thou thi time waste; Bot if thin happ therto be schape, It mai noght helpe forto rape. Therfore attempre thi corage; Folhaste doth non avantage, 1680 Bot ofte it set a man behinde In cause of love, and that I finde Be olde ensample, as thou schalt hiere, Touchende of love in this matiere.

A Maiden whilom ther was on, Which Daphne hihte, and such was non Of beaute thanne, as it was seid. Phebus his love hath on hire leid, And therupon to hire he soghte In his folhaste, and so besoghte, 1690 That sche with him no reste hadde; For evere upon hire love he gradde, And sche seide evere unto him nay. So it befell upon a dai, Cupide, which hath every chance Of love under his governance, Syh Phebus hasten him so sore: And for he scholde him haste more, And yit noght speden ate laste, A dart thurghout his herte he caste, 1700 Which was of gold and al afyre, That made him manyfold desire Of love more thanne he dede. To Daphne ek in the same stede A dart of Led he caste and smot, Which was al cold and nothing hot. And thus Phebus in love brenneth, And in his haste aboute renneth, To loke if that he mihte winne; Bot he was evere to beginne, 1710 For evere awei fro him sche fledde, So that he nevere his love spedde. And forto make him full believe That no Folhaste mihte achieve To gete love in such degree, This Daphne into a lorer tre Was torned, which is evere grene, In tokne, as yit it mai be sene, That sche schal duelle a maiden stille, And Phebus failen of his wille. 1720

Be suche ensamples, as thei stonde, Mi Sone, thou miht understonde, To hasten love is thing in vein, Whan that fortune is therayein. To take where a man hath leve Good is, and elles he mot leve; For whan a mannes happes failen, Ther is non haste mai availen.

Mi fader, grant merci of this: Bot while I se mi ladi is 1730 No tre, but halt hire oghne forme, Ther mai me noman so enforme, To whether part fortune wende, That I unto mi lyves ende Ne wol hire serven everemo.

Mi Sone, sithen it is so, I seie nomor; bot in this cas Bewar how it with Phebus was. Noght only upon loves chance, Bot upon every governance 1740 Which falleth unto mannes dede, Folhaste is evere forto drede, And that a man good consail take, Er he his pourpos undertake, For consail put Folhaste aweie.

Now goode fader, I you preie, That forto wisse me the more, Som good ensample upon this lore Ye wolden telle of that is write, That I the betre mihte wite 1750 How I Folhaste scholde eschuie, And the wisdom of conseil suie.

Mi Sone, that thou miht enforme Thi pacience upon the forme Of old essamples, as thei felle, Now understond what I schal telle.

Whan noble Troie was belein And overcome, and hom ayein The Gregois torned fro the siege, The kinges founde here oghne liege 1760 In manye places, as men seide, That hem forsoke and desobeide. Among the whiche fell this cas To Demephon and Athemas, That weren kinges bothe tuo, And bothe weren served so: Here lieges wolde hem noght receive, So that thei mote algates weyve To seche lond in other place, For there founde thei no grace. 1770 Wherof they token hem to rede, And soghten frendes ate nede, And ech of hem asseureth other To helpe as to his oghne brother, To vengen hem of thilke oultrage And winne ayein here heritage. And thus thei ryde aboute faste To gete hem help, and ate laste Thei hadden pouer sufficant, And maden thanne a covenant, 1780 That thei ne scholden no lif save, Ne prest, ne clerc, ne lord, ne knave, Ne wif, ne child, of that thei finde, Which berth visage of mannes kinde, So that no lif schal be socoured, Bot with the dedly swerd devoured: In such Folhaste here ordinance Thei schapen forto do vengance. Whan this pourpos was wist and knowe Among here host, tho was ther blowe 1790 Of wordes many a speche aboute: Of yonge men the lusti route Were of this tale glad ynowh, Ther was no care for the plowh; As thei that weren Folhastif, Thei ben acorded to the strif, And sein it mai noght be to gret To vengen hem of such forfet: Thus seith the wilde unwise tonge Of hem that there weren yonge. 1800 Bot Nestor, which was old and hor, The salve sih tofore the sor, As he that was of conseil wys: So that anon be his avis Ther was a prive conseil nome. The lordes ben togedre come; This Demephon and Athemas Here pourpos tolden, as it was; Thei sieten alle stille and herde, Was non bot Nestor hem ansuerde. 1810 He bad hem, if thei wolde winne, They scholden se, er thei beginne, Here ende, and sette here ferste entente, That thei hem after ne repente: And axeth hem this questioun, To what final conclusioun Thei wolde regne Kinges there, If that no poeple in londe were; And seith, it were a wonder wierde To sen a king become an hierde, 1820 Wher no lif is bot only beste Under the liegance of his heste; For who that is of man no king, The remenant is as no thing. He seith ek, if the pourpos holde To sle the poeple, as thei tuo wolde, Whan thei it mihte noght restore, Al Grece it scholde abegge sore, To se the wilde beste wone Wher whilom duelte a mannes Sone: 1830 And for that cause he bad hem trete, And stinte of the manaces grete. Betre is to winne be fair speche, He seith, than such vengance seche; For whanne a man is most above, Him nedeth most to gete him love.

Whan Nestor hath his tale seid, Ayein him was no word withseid; It thoghte hem alle he seide wel: And thus fortune hire dedly whiel 1840 Fro werre torneth into pes. Bot forth thei wenten natheles; And whan the Contres herde sein How that here kinges be besein Of such a pouer as thei ladde, Was non so bold that hem ne dradde, And forto seche pes and grith Thei sende and preide anon forthwith, So that the kinges ben appesed, And every mannes herte is esed; 1850 Al was foryete and noght recorded. And thus thei ben togedre acorded; The kinges were ayein received, And pes was take and wraththe weived, And al thurgh conseil which was good Of him that reson understod.

Be this ensample, Sone, attempre Thin herte and let no will distempre Thi wit, and do nothing be myht Which mai be do be love and riht. 1860 Folhaste is cause of mochel wo; Forthi, mi Sone, do noght so. And as touchende of Homicide Which toucheth unto loves side, Fulofte it falleth unavised Thurgh will, which is noght wel assised, Whan wit and reson ben aweie And that Folhaste is in the weie, Wherof hath falle gret vengance. Forthi tak into remembrance 1870 To love in such a maner wise That thou deserve no juise: For wel I wot, thou miht noght lette, That thou ne schalt thin herte sette To love, wher thou wolt or non; Bot if thi wit be overgon, So that it torne into malice, Ther wot noman of thilke vice, What peril that ther mai befalle: Wherof a tale amonges alle, 1880 Which is gret pite forto hiere, I thenke forto tellen hiere, That thou such moerdre miht withstonde, Whan thou the tale hast understonde.

Of Troie at thilke noble toun, Whos fame stant yit of renoun And evere schal to mannes Ere, The Siege laste longe there, Er that the Greks it mihten winne, Whil Priamus was king therinne; 1890 Bot of the Greks that lyhe aboute Agamenon ladde al the route. This thing is knowen overal, Bot yit I thenke in special To my matiere therupon Telle in what wise Agamenon, Thurgh chance which mai noght be weived, Of love untrewe was deceived. An old sawe is, “Who that is slyh In place where he mai be nyh, 1900 He makth the ferre Lieve loth”: Of love and thus fulofte it goth. Ther while Agamenon batailleth To winne Troie, and it assailleth, Fro home and was long time ferr, Egistus drowh his qweene nerr, And with the leiser which he hadde This ladi at his wille he ladde: Climestre was hire rihte name, Sche was therof gretli to blame, 1910 To love there it mai noght laste. Bot fell to meschief ate laste; For whan this noble worthi kniht Fro Troie cam, the ferste nyht That he at home abedde lay, Egistus, longe er it was day, As this Climestre him hadde asent, And weren bothe of on assent, Be treson slowh him in his bedd. Bot moerdre, which mai noght ben hedd, 1920 Sprong out to every mannes Ere, Wherof the lond was full of fere.

Agamenon hath be this qweene A Sone, and that was after sene; Bot yit as thanne he was of yowthe, A babe, which no reson cowthe, And as godd wolde, it fell him thus. A worthi kniht Taltabius This yonge child hath in kepinge, And whan he herde of this tidinge, 1930 Of this treson, of this misdede, He gan withinne himself to drede, In aunter if this false Egiste Upon him come, er he it wiste, To take and moerdre of his malice This child, which he hath to norrice: And for that cause in alle haste Out of the lond he gan him haste And to the king of Crete he strawhte And him this yonge lord betawhte, 1940 And preide him for his fader sake That he this child wolde undertake And kepe him til he be of Age, So as he was of his lignage; And tolde him over al the cas, How that his fadre moerdred was, And hou Egistus, as men seide, Was king, to whom the lond obeide. And whanne Ydomeneux the king Hath understondinge of this thing, 1950 Which that this kniht him hadde told, He made sorwe manyfold, And tok this child into his warde, And seide he wolde him kepe and warde, Til that he were of such a myht To handle a swerd and ben a knyht, To venge him at his oghne wille. And thus Horestes duelleth stille, Such was the childes rihte name, Which after wroghte mochel schame 1960 In vengance of his fader deth.

The time of yeres overgeth, That he was man of brede and lengthe, Of wit, of manhod and of strengthe, A fair persone amonges alle. And he began to clepe and calle, As he which come was to manne, Unto the King of Crete thanne, Preiende that he wolde him make A kniht and pouer with him take, 1970 For lengere wolde he noght beleve, He seith, bot preith the king of leve To gon and cleyme his heritage And vengen him of thilke oultrage Which was unto his fader do. The king assenteth wel therto, With gret honour and knyht him makth, And gret pouer to him betakth, And gan his journe forto caste: So that Horestes ate laste 1980 His leve tok and forth he goth. As he that was in herte wroth, His ferste pleinte to bemene, Unto the Cite of Athene He goth him forth and was received, So there was he noght deceived. The Duc and tho that weren wise Thei profren hem to his servise; And he hem thonketh of here profre And seith himself he wol gon offre 1990 Unto the goddes for his sped, As alle men him yeven red. So goth he to the temple forth: Of yiftes that be mochel worth His sacrifice and his offringe He made; and after his axinge He was ansuerd, if that he wolde His stat recovere, thanne he scholde Upon his Moder do vengance So cruel, that the remembrance 2000 Therof mihte everemore abide, As sche that was an homicide And of hire oghne lord Moerdrice. Horestes, which of thilke office Was nothing glad, as thanne he preide Unto the goddes there and seide That thei the juggement devise, How sche schal take the juise. And therupon he hadde ansuere, That he hire Pappes scholde of tere 2010 Out of hire brest his oghne hondes, And for ensample of alle londes With hors sche scholde be todrawe, Til houndes hadde hire bones gnawe Withouten eny sepulture: This was a wofull aventure. And whan Horestes hath al herd, How that the goddes have ansuerd, Forth with the strengthe which he ladde The Duc and his pouer he hadde, 2020 And to a Cite forth thei gon, The which was cleped Cropheon, Where as Phoieus was lord and Sire, Which profreth him withouten hyre His help and al that he mai do, As he that was riht glad therto, To grieve his mortiel enemy: And tolde hem certein cause why, How that Egiste in Mariage His dowhter whilom of full Age 2030 Forlai, and afterward forsok, Whan he Horestes Moder tok.

Men sein, “Old Senne newe schame”: Thus more and more aros the blame Ayein Egiste on every side. Horestes with his host to ride Began, and Phoieus with hem wente; I trowe Egiste him schal repente. Thei riden forth unto Micene, Wher lay Climestre thilke qweene, 2040 The which Horestes moder is: And whan sche herde telle of this, The gates weren faste schet, And thei were of here entre let. Anon this Cite was withoute Belein and sieged al aboute, And evere among thei it assaile, Fro day to nyht and so travaile, Til ate laste thei it wonne; Tho was ther sorwe ynowh begonne. 2050

Horestes dede his moder calle Anon tofore the lordes alle And ek tofor the poeple also, To hire and tolde his tale tho, And seide, “O cruel beste unkinde, How mihtest thou thin herte finde, For eny lust of loves drawhte, That thou acordest to the slawhte Of him which was thin oghne lord? Thi treson stant of such record, 2060 Thou miht thi werkes noght forsake; So mot I for mi fader sake Vengance upon thi bodi do, As I comanded am therto. Unkindely for thou hast wroght, Unkindeliche it schal be boght, The Sone schal the Moder sle, For that whilom thou seidest yee To that thou scholdest nay have seid.” And he with that his hond hath leid 2070 Upon his Moder brest anon, And rente out fro the bare bon Hire Pappes bothe and caste aweie Amiddes in the carte weie, And after tok the dede cors And let it drawe awey with hors Unto the hound and to the raven; Sche was non other wise graven.

Egistus, which was elles where, Tidinges comen to his Ere 2080 How that Micenes was belein, Bot what was more herd he noght sein; With gret manace and mochel bost He drowh pouer and made an host And cam in rescousse of the toun. Bot al the sleyhte of his tresoun Horestes wiste it be aspie, And of his men a gret partie He made in buisshement abide, To waite on him in such a tide 2090 That he ne mihte here hond ascape: And in this wise as he hath schape The thing befell, so that Egiste Was take, er he himself it wiste, And was forth broght hise hondes bounde, As whan men han a tretour founde. And tho that weren with him take, Whiche of tresoun were overtake, Togedre in o sentence falle; Bot false Egiste above hem alle 2100 Was demed to diverse peine, The worste that men cowthe ordeigne, And so forth after be the lawe He was unto the gibet drawe, Where he above alle othre hongeth, As to a tretour it belongeth.

Tho fame with hire swifte wynges Aboute flyh and bar tidinges, And made it cowth in alle londes How that Horestes with hise hondes 2110 Climestre his oghne Moder slowh. Some sein he dede wel ynowh, And som men sein he dede amis, Diverse opinion ther is: That sche is ded thei speken alle, Bot pleinli hou it is befalle, The matiere in so litel throwe In soth ther mihte noman knowe Bot thei that weren ate dede: And comunliche in every nede 2120 The worste speche is rathest herd And lieved, til it be ansuerd. The kinges and the lordes grete Begonne Horestes forto threte To puten him out of his regne: “He is noght worthi forto regne, The child which slowh his moder so,” Thei saide; and therupon also The lordes of comun assent A time sette of parlement, 2130 And to Athenes king and lord Togedre come of on accord, To knowe hou that the sothe was: So that Horestes in this cas Thei senden after, and he com. King Menelay the wordes nom And axeth him of this matiere: And he, that alle it mihten hiere, Ansuerde and tolde his tale alarge, And hou the goddes in his charge 2140 Comanded him in such a wise His oghne hond to do juise. And with this tale a Duc aros, Which was a worthi kniht of los, His name was Menesteus, And seide unto the lordes thus: “The wreeche which Horeste dede, It was thing of the goddes bede, And nothing of his crualte; And if ther were of mi degree 2150 In al this place such a kniht That wolde sein it was no riht, I wole it with my bodi prove.” And therupon he caste his glove, And ek this noble Duc alleide Ful many an other skile, and seide Sche hadde wel deserved wreche, Ferst for the cause of Spousebreche, And after wroghte in such a wise That al the world it oghte agrise, 2160 Whan that sche for so foul a vice Was of hire oghne lord moerdrice. Thei seten alle stille and herde, Bot therto was noman ansuerde, It thoghte hem alle he seide skile, Ther is noman withseie it wile; Whan thei upon the reson musen, Horestes alle thei excusen: So that with gret solempnete He was unto his dignete 2170 Received, and coroned king. And tho befell a wonder thing: Egiona, whan sche this wiste, Which was the dowhter of Egiste And Soster on the moder side To this Horeste, at thilke tide, Whan sche herde how hir brother spedde, For pure sorwe, which hire ledde, That he ne hadde ben exiled, Sche hath hire oghne lif beguiled 2180 Anon and hyng hireselve tho. It hath and schal ben everemo, To moerdre who that wole assente, He mai noght faille to repente: This false Egiona was on, Which forto moerdre Agamenon Yaf hire acord and hire assent, So that be goddes juggement, Thogh that non other man it wolde, Sche tok hire juise as sche scholde; 2190 And as sche to an other wroghte, Vengance upon hireself sche soghte, And hath of hire unhappi wit A moerdre with a moerdre quit. Such is of moerdre the vengance.

Forthi, mi Sone, in remembrance Of this ensample tak good hiede: For who that thenkth his love spiede With moerdre, he schal with worldes schame Himself and ek his love schame. 2200

Mi fader, of this aventure Which ye have told, I you assure Min herte is sory forto hiere, Bot only for I wolde lere What is to done, and what to leve.

And over this now be your leve, That ye me wolden telle I preie, If ther be lieffull eny weie Withoute Senne a man to sle.

Mi Sone, in sondri wise ye. 2210 What man that is of traiterie, Of moerdre or elles robberie Atteint, the jugge schal noght lette, Bot he schal slen of pure dette, And doth gret Senne, if that he wonde. For who that lawe hath upon honde, And spareth forto do justice For merci, doth noght his office, That he his mercy so bewareth, Whan for o schrewe which he spareth 2220 A thousand goode men he grieveth: With such merci who that believeth To plese god, he is deceived, Or elles resoun mot be weyved. The lawe stod er we were bore, How that a kinges swerd is bore In signe that he schal defende His trewe poeple and make an ende Of suche as wolden hem devoure. Lo thus, my Sone, to socoure 2230 The lawe and comun riht to winne, A man mai sle withoute Sinne, And do therof a gret almesse, So forto kepe rihtwisnesse. And over this for his contre In time of werre a man is fre Himself, his hous and ek his lond Defende with his oghne hond, And slen, if that he mai no bet, After the lawe which is set. 2240

Now, fader, thanne I you beseche Of hem that dedly werres seche In worldes cause and scheden blod, If such an homicide is good.

Mi Sone, upon thi question The trowthe of myn opinion, Als ferforth as my wit arecheth And as the pleine lawe techeth, I woll thee telle in evidence, To rewle with thi conscience. 2250

The hihe god of his justice That ilke foule horrible vice Of homicide he hath forbede, Be Moises as it was bede. Whan goddes Sone also was bore, He sende hise anglis doun therfore, Whom the Schepherdes herden singe, Pes to the men of welwillinge In erthe be among ous here. So forto speke in this matiere 2260 After the lawe of charite, Ther schal no dedly werre be: And ek nature it hath defended And in hir lawe pes comended, Which is the chief of mannes welthe, Of mannes lif, of mannes helthe. Bot dedly werre hath his covine Of pestilence and of famine, Of poverte and of alle wo, Wherof this world we blamen so, 2270 Which now the werre hath under fote, Til god himself therof do bote. For alle thing which god hath wroght In Erthe, werre it bringth to noght: The cherche is brent, the priest is slain, The wif, the maide is ek forlain, The lawe is lore and god unserved: I not what mede he hath deserved That suche werres ledeth inne. If that he do it forto winne, 2280 Ferst to acompte his grete cost Forth with the folk that he hath lost, As to the wordes rekeninge Ther schal he finde no winnynge; And if he do it to pourchace The hevene mede, of such a grace I can noght speke, and natheles Crist hath comanded love and pes, And who that worcheth the revers, I trowe his mede is ful divers. 2290 And sithen thanne that we finde That werres in here oghne kinde Ben toward god of no decerte, And ek thei bringen in poverte Of worldes good, it is merveile Among the men what it mai eyle, That thei a pes ne conne sette. I trowe Senne be the lette, And every mede of Senne is deth; So wot I nevere hou that it geth: 2300 Bot we that ben of o believe Among ousself, this wolde I lieve, That betre it were pes to chese, Than so be double weie lese.

I not if that it now so stonde, Bot this a man mai understonde, Who that these olde bokes redeth, That coveitise is on which ledeth, And broghte ferst the werres inne. At Grece if that I schal beginne, 2310 Ther was it proved hou it stod: To Perce, which was ful of good, Thei maden werre in special, And so thei deden overal, Wher gret richesse was in londe, So that thei leften nothing stonde Unwerred, bot onliche Archade. For there thei no werres made, Be cause it was bareigne and povere, Wherof thei mihten noght recovere; 2320 And thus poverte was forbore, He that noght hadde noght hath lore. Bot yit it is a wonder thing, Whan that a riche worthi king, Or other lord, what so he be, Wol axe and cleyme proprete In thing to which he hath no riht, Bot onliche of his grete miht: For this mai every man wel wite, That bothe kinde and lawe write 2330 Expressly stonden therayein. Bot he mot nedes somwhat sein, Althogh ther be no reson inne, Which secheth cause forto winne: For wit that is with will oppressed, Whan coveitise him hath adressed, And alle resoun put aweie, He can wel finde such a weie To werre, where as evere him liketh, Wherof that he the world entriketh, 2340 That many a man of him compleigneth: Bot yit alwei som cause he feigneth, And of his wrongful herte he demeth That al is wel, what evere him semeth, Be so that he mai winne ynowh. For as the trew man to the plowh Only to the gaignage entendeth, Riht so the werreiour despendeth His time and hath no conscience. And in this point for evidence 2350 Of hem that suche werres make, Thou miht a gret ensample take, How thei her tirannie excusen Of that thei wrongfull werres usen, And how thei stonde of on acord, The Souldeour forth with the lord, The povere man forth with the riche, As of corage thei ben liche, To make werres and to pile For lucre and for non other skyle: 2360 Wherof a propre tale I rede, As it whilom befell in dede.

Of him whom al this Erthe dradde, Whan he the world so overladde Thurgh werre, as it fortuned is, King Alisandre, I rede this; How in a Marche, where he lay, It fell per chance upon a day A Rovere of the See was nome, Which many a man hadde overcome 2370 And slain and take here good aweie: This Pilour, as the bokes seie, A famous man in sondri stede Was of the werkes whiche he dede. This Prisoner tofor the king Was broght, and there upon this thing In audience he was accused: And he his dede hath noght excused, Bot preith the king to don him riht, And seith, “Sire, if I were of miht, 2380 I have an herte lich to thin; For if the pouer were myn, Mi will is most in special To rifle and geten overal The large worldes good aboute. Bot for I lede a povere route And am, as who seith, at meschief, The name of Pilour and of thief I bere; and thou, which routes grete Miht lede and take thi beyete, 2390 And dost riht as I wolde do, Thi name is nothing cleped so, Bot thou art named Emperour. Oure dedes ben of o colour And in effect of o decerte, Bot thi richesse and my poverte Tho ben noght taken evene liche. And natheles he that is riche This dai, tomorwe he mai be povere; And in contraire also recovere 2400 A povere man to gret richesse Men sen: forthi let rihtwisnesse Be peised evene in the balance.

The king his hardi contienance Behield, and herde hise wordes wise, And seide unto him in this wise: “Thin ansuere I have understonde, Wherof my will is, that thou stonde In mi service and stille abide.” And forth withal the same tide 2410 He hath him terme of lif withholde, The mor and for he schal ben holde, He made him kniht and yaf him lond, Which afterward was of his hond And orped kniht in many a stede, And gret prouesce of armes dede, As the Croniqes it recorden.

And in this wise thei acorden, The whiche of o condicioun Be set upon destruccioun: 2420 Such Capitein such retenue. Bot forto se to what issue The thing befalleth ate laste, It is gret wonder that men caste Here herte upon such wrong to winne, Wher no beyete mai ben inne, And doth desese on every side: Bot whan reson is put aside And will governeth the corage, The faucon which that fleth ramage 2430 And soeffreth nothing in the weie, Wherof that he mai take his preie, Is noght mor set upon ravine, Than thilke man which his covine Hath set in such a maner wise: For al the world ne mai suffise To will which is noght resonable.

Wherof ensample concordable Lich to this point of which I meene, Was upon Alisandre sene, 2440 Which hadde set al his entente, So as fortune with him wente, That reson mihte him non governe, Bot of his will he was so sterne, That al the world he overran And what him list he tok and wan. In Ynde the superiour Whan that he was ful conquerour, And hadde his wilful pourpos wonne Of al this Erthe under the Sonne, 2450 This king homward to Macedoine, Whan that he cam to Babiloine, And wende most in his Empire, As he which was hol lord and Sire, In honour forto be received, Most sodeinliche he was deceived, And with strong puison envenimed. And as he hath the world mistimed Noght as he scholde with his wit, Noght as he wolde it was aquit. 2460

Thus was he slain that whilom slowh, And he which riche was ynowh This dai, tomorwe he hadde noght: And in such wise as he hath wroght In destorbance of worldes pes, His werre he fond thanne endeles, In which for evere desconfit He was. Lo now, for what profit Of werre it helpeth forto ryde, For coveitise and worldes pride 2470 To sle the worldes men aboute, As bestes whiche gon theroute. For every lif which reson can Oghth wel to knowe that a man Ne scholde thurgh no tirannie Lich to these othre bestes die, Til kinde wolde for him sende. I not hou he it mihte amende, Which takth awei for everemore The lif that he mai noght restore. 2480

Forthi, mi Sone, in alle weie Be wel avised, I thee preie, Of slawhte er that thou be coupable Withoute cause resonable.

Mi fader, understonde it is, That ye have seid; bot over this I prei you tell me nay or yee, To passe over the grete See To werre and sle the Sarazin, Is that the lawe?

Sone myn, 2490 To preche and soffre for the feith, That have I herd the gospell seith; Bot forto slee, that hiere I noght. Crist with his oghne deth hath boght Alle othre men, and made hem fre, In tokne of parfit charite; And after that he tawhte himselve, Whan he was ded, these othre tuelve Of hise Apostles wente aboute The holi feith to prechen oute, 2500 Wherof the deth in sondri place Thei soffre, and so god of his grace The feith of Crist hath mad aryse: Bot if thei wolde in other wise Be werre have broght in the creance, It hadde yit stonde in balance. And that mai proven in the dede; For what man the Croniqes rede, Fro ferst that holi cherche hath weyved To preche, and hath the swerd received, 2510 Wherof the werres ben begonne, A gret partie of that was wonne To Cristes feith stant now miswent: Godd do therof amendement, So as he wot what is the beste. Bot, Sone, if thou wolt live in reste Of conscience wel assised, Er that thou sle, be wel avised: For man, as tellen ous the clerkes, Hath god above alle ertheli werkes 2520 Ordeined to be principal, And ek of Soule in special He is mad lich to the godhiede. So sit it wel to taken hiede And forto loke on every side, Er that thou falle in homicide, Which Senne is now so general, That it welnyh stant overal, In holi cherche and elles where. Bot al the while it stant so there, 2530 The world mot nede fare amis: For whan the welle of pite is Thurgh coveitise of worldes good Defouled with schedinge of blod, The remenant of folk aboute Unethe stonden eny doute To werre ech other and to slee. So is it all noght worth a Stree, The charite wherof we prechen, For we do nothing as we techen: 2540 And thus the blinde conscience Of pes hath lost thilke evidence Which Crist upon this Erthe tawhte. Now mai men se moerdre and manslawhte Lich as it was be daies olde, Whan men the Sennes boghte and solde.

In Grece afore Cristes feith, I rede, as the Cronique seith, Touchende of this matiere thus, In thilke time hou Peleüs 2550 His oghne brother Phocus slowh; Bot for he hadde gold ynowh To yive, his Senne was despensed With gold, wherof it was compensed: Achastus, which with Venus was Hire Priest, assoilede in that cas, Al were ther no repentance. And as the bok makth remembrance, It telleth of Medee also; Of that sche slowh her Sones tuo, 2560 Egeüs in the same plit Hath mad hire of hire Senne quit. The Sone ek of Amphioras, Whos rihte name Almeus was, His Moder slowh, Eriphile; Bot Achilo the Priest and he, So as the bokes it recorden, For certein Somme of gold acorden That thilke horrible sinfull dede Assoiled was. And thus for mede 2570 Of worldes good it falleth ofte That homicide is set alofte Hiere in this lif; bot after this Ther schal be knowe how that it is Of hem that suche thinges werche, And hou also that holi cherche Let suche Sennes passe quyte, And how thei wole hemself aquite Of dedly werres that thei make. For who that wolde ensample take, 2580 The lawe which is naturel Be weie of kinde scheweth wel That homicide in no degree, Which werreth ayein charite, Among the men ne scholde duelle. For after that the bokes telle, To seche in al this worldesriche, Men schal noght finde upon his liche A beste forto take his preie: And sithen kinde hath such a weie, 2590 Thanne is it wonder of a man, Which kynde hath and resoun can, That he wol owther more or lasse His kinde and resoun overpasse, And sle that is to him semblable. So is the man noght resonable Ne kinde, and that is noght honeste, Whan he is worse than a beste.

Among the bokes whiche I finde Solyns spekth of a wonder kinde, 2600 And seith of fowhles ther is on, Which hath a face of blod and bon Lich to a man in resemblance. And if it falle him so per chance, As he which is a fowhl of preie, That he a man finde in his weie, He wol him slen, if that he mai: Bot afterward the same dai, Whan he hath eten al his felle, And that schal be beside a welle, 2610 In which whan he wol drinke take, Of his visage and seth the make That he hath slain, anon he thenketh Of his misdede, and it forthenketh So gretly, that for pure sorwe He liveth noght til on the morwe. Be this ensample it mai well suie That man schal homicide eschuie, For evere is merci good to take, Bot if the lawe it hath forsake 2620 And that justice is therayein. For ofte time I have herd sein Amonges hem that werres hadden, That thei som while here cause ladden Be merci, whan thei mihte have slain, Wherof that thei were after fain: And, Sone, if that thou wolt recorde The vertu of Misericorde, Thou sihe nevere thilke place, Where it was used, lacke grace. 2630 For every lawe and every kinde The mannes wit to merci binde; And namely the worthi knihtes, Whan that thei stonden most uprihtes And ben most mihti forto grieve, Thei scholden thanne most relieve Him whom thei mihten overthrowe, As be ensample a man mai knowe.

He mai noght failen of his mede That hath merci: for this I rede, 2640 In a Cronique and finde thus. Whan Achilles with Telaphus His Sone toward Troie were, It fell hem, er thei comen there, Ayein Theucer the king of Mese To make werre and forto sese His lond, as thei that wolden regne And Theucer pute out of his regne. And thus the Marches thei assaile, Bot Theucer yaf to hem bataille; 2650 Thei foghte on bothe sides faste, Bot so it hapneth ate laste, This worthi Grek, this Achilles, The king among alle othre ches: As he that was cruel and fell, With swerd in honde on him he fell, And smot him with a dethes wounde, That he unhorsed fell to grounde. Achilles upon him alyhte, And wolde anon, as he wel mihte, 2660 Have slain him fullich in the place; Bot Thelaphus his fader grace For him besoghte, and for pite Preith that he wolde lete him be, And caste his Schield betwen hem tuo. Achilles axeth him why so, And Thelaphus his cause tolde, And seith that he is mochel holde, For whilom Theucer in a stede Gret grace and socour to him dede, 2670 And seith that he him wolde aquite, And preith his fader to respite. Achilles tho withdrowh his hond; Bot al the pouer of the lond, Whan that thei sihe here king thus take, Thei fledde and han the feld forsake: The Grecs unto the chace falle, And for the moste part of alle Of that contre the lordes grete Thei toke, and wonne a gret beyete. 2680 And anon after this victoire The king, which hadde good memoire, Upon the grete merci thoghte, Which Telaphus toward him wroghte, And in presence of al the lond He tok him faire be the hond, And in this wise he gan to seie: “Mi Sone, I mot be double weie Love and desire thin encress; Ferst for thi fader Achilles 2690 Whilom ful many dai er this, Whan that I scholde have fare amis, Rescousse dede in mi querele And kepte al myn astat in hele: How so ther falle now distance Amonges ous, yit remembrance I have of merci which he dede As thanne: and thou now in this stede Of gentilesce and of franchise Hast do mercy the same wise. 2700 So wol I noght that eny time Be lost of that thou hast do byme; For hou so this fortune falle, Yit stant mi trust aboven alle, For the mercy which I now finde, That thou wolt after this be kinde: And for that such is myn espeir, As for my Sone and for myn Eir I thee receive, and al my lond I yive and sese into thin hond.” 2710 And in this wise thei acorde, The cause was Misericorde: The lordes dede here obeissance To Thelaphus, and pourveance Was mad so that he was coroned: And thus was merci reguerdoned, Which he to Theucer dede afore.

Lo, this ensample is mad therfore, That thou miht take remembrance, Mi Sone; and whan thou sest a chaunce, 2720 Of other mennes passioun Tak pite and compassioun, And let nothing to thee be lief, Which to an other man is grief. And after this if thou desire To stonde ayein the vice of Ire, Consaile thee with Pacience, And tak into thi conscience Merci to be thi governour. So schalt thou fiele no rancour, 2730 Wherof thin herte schal debate With homicide ne with hate For Cheste or for Malencolie: Thou schalt be soft in compaignie Withoute Contek or Folhaste: For elles miht thou longe waste Thi time, er that thou have thi wille Of love; for the weder stille Men preise, and blame the tempestes.

Mi fader, I wol do youre hestes, 2740 And of this point ye have me tawht, Toward miself the betre sawht I thenke be, whil that I live. Bot for als moche as I am schrive Of Wraththe and al his circumstance, Yif what you list to my penance, And asketh forthere of my lif, If otherwise I be gultif Of eny thing that toucheth Sinne.

Mi Sone, er we departe atwinne, 2750 I schal behinde nothing leve.

Mi goode fader, be your leve Thanne axeth forth what so you list, For I have in you such a trist, As ye that be my Soule hele, That ye fro me wol nothing hele, For I schal telle you the trowthe.

Mi Sone, art thou coupable of Slowthe In eny point which to him longeth?

My fader, of tho pointz me longeth 2760 To wite pleinly what thei meene, So that I mai me schrive cleene.

Now herkne, I schal the pointz devise; And understond wel myn aprise: For schrifte stant of no value To him that wol him noght vertue To leve of vice the folie: For word is wynd, bot the maistrie Is that a man himself defende Of thing which is noght to comende, 2770 Wherof ben fewe now aday. And natheles, so as I may Make unto thi memoire knowe, The pointz of Slowthe thou schalt knowe.

Explicit Liber Tercius

Incipit Liber Quartus

_Dicunt accidiam fore nutricem viciorum, Torpet et in cunctis tarda que lenta bonis: Que fieri possent hodie transfert piger in cras, Furatoque prius ostia claudit equo. Poscenti tardo negat emolumenta Cupido, Set Venus in celeri ludit amore viri._

Upon the vices to procede After the cause of mannes dede, The ferste point of Slowthe I calle Lachesce, and is the chief of alle, And hath this propreliche of kinde, To leven alle thing behinde. Of that he mihte do now hier He tarieth al the longe yer, And everemore he seith, “Tomorwe”; And so he wol his time borwe, 10 And wissheth after “God me sende,” That whan he weneth have an ende, Thanne is he ferthest to beginne. Thus bringth he many a meschief inne Unwar, til that he be meschieved, And may noght thanne be relieved.

And riht so nowther mor ne lesse It stant of love and of lachesce: Som time he slowtheth in a day That he nevere after gete mai. 20 Now, Sone, as of this ilke thing, If thou have eny knowleching, That thou to love hast don er this, Tell on.

Mi goode fader, yis. As of lachesce I am beknowe That I mai stonde upon his rowe, As I that am clad of his suite: For whanne I thoghte mi poursuite To make, and therto sette a day To speke unto the swete May, 30 Lachesce bad abide yit, And bar on hond it was no wit Ne time forto speke as tho. Thus with his tales to and fro Mi time in tariinge he drowh: Whan ther was time good ynowh, He seide, “An other time is bettre; Thou schalt mowe senden hire a lettre, And per cas wryte more plein Than thou be Mowthe durstest sein.” 40 Thus have I lete time slyde For Slowthe, and kepte noght my tide, So that lachesce with his vice Fulofte hath mad my wit so nyce, That what I thoghte speke or do With tariinge he hield me so, Til whanne I wolde and mihte noght. I not what thing was in my thoght, Or it was drede, or it was schame; Bot evere in ernest and in game 50 I wot ther is long time passed. Bot yit is noght the love lassed, Which I unto mi ladi have; For thogh my tunge is slowh to crave At alle time, as I have bede, Min herte stant evere in o stede And axeth besiliche grace, The which I mai noght yit embrace. And god wot that is malgre myn; For this I wot riht wel a fin, 60 Mi grace comth so selde aboute, That is the Slowthe of which I doute Mor than of al the remenant Which is to love appourtenant. And thus as touchende of lachesce, As I have told, I me confesse To you, mi fader, and beseche That furthermor ye wol me teche; And if ther be to this matiere Som goodly tale forto liere 70 How I mai do lachesce aweie, That ye it wolden telle I preie.

To wisse thee, my Sone, and rede, Among the tales whiche I rede, An old ensample therupon Now herkne, and I wol tellen on.

Ayein Lachesce in loves cas I finde how whilom Eneas, Whom Anchises to Sone hadde, With gret navie, which he ladde 80 Fro Troie, aryveth at Cartage, Wher for a while his herbergage He tok; and it betidde so, With hire which was qweene tho Of the Cite his aqueintance He wan, whos name in remembrance Is yit, and Dido sche was hote; Which loveth Eneas so hote Upon the wordes whiche he seide, That al hire herte on him sche leide 90 And dede al holi what he wolde.

Bot after that, as it be scholde, Fro thenne he goth toward Ytaile Be Schipe, and there his arivaile Hath take, and schop him forto ryde. Bot sche, which mai noght longe abide The hote peine of loves throwe, Anon withinne a litel throwe A lettre unto hir kniht hath write, And dede him pleinly forto wite, 100 If he made eny tariinge, To drecche of his ayeincomynge, That sche ne mihte him fiele and se, Sche scholde stonde in such degre As whilom stod a Swan tofore, Of that sche hadde hire make lore; For sorwe a fethere into hire brain Sche schof and hath hireselve slain; As king Menander in a lay The sothe hath founde, wher sche lay 110 Sprantlende with hire wynges tweie, As sche which scholde thanne deie For love of him which was hire make.

“And so schal I do for thi sake,” This qweene seide, “wel I wot.” Lo, to Enee thus sche wrot With many an other word of pleinte: Bot he, which hadde hise thoghtes feinte Towardes love and full of Slowthe, His time lette, and that was rowthe: 120 For sche, which loveth him tofore, Desireth evere more and more, And whan sche sih him tarie so, Hire herte was so full of wo, That compleignende manyfold Sche hath hire oghne tale told, Unto hirself and thus sche spak: “Ha, who fond evere such a lak Of Slowthe in eny worthi kniht? Now wot I wel my deth is diht 130 Thurgh him which scholde have be mi lif.” Bot forto stinten al this strif, Thus whan sche sih non other bote, Riht evene unto hire herte rote A naked swerd anon sche threste, And thus sche gat hireselve reste In remembrance of alle slowe.

Wherof, my Sone, thou miht knowe How tariinge upon the nede In loves cause is forto drede; 140 And that hath Dido sore aboght, Whos deth schal evere be bethoght. And overmore if I schal seche In this matiere an other spieche, In a Cronique I finde write A tale which is good to wite.

At Troie whan king Ulixes Upon the Siege among the pres Of hem that worthi knihtes were Abod long time stille there, 150 In thilke time a man mai se How goodli that Penolope, Which was to him his trewe wif, Of his lachesce was pleintif; Wherof to Troie sche him sende Hire will be lettre, thus spekende:

“Mi worthi love and lord also, It is and hath ben evere so, That wher a womman is al one, It makth a man in his persone 160 The more hardi forto wowe, In hope that sche wolde bowe To such thing as his wille were, Whil that hire lord were elleswhere. And of miself I telle this; For it so longe passed is, Sithe ferst than ye fro home wente, That welnyh every man his wente To there I am, whil ye ben oute, Hath mad, and ech of hem aboute, 170 Which love can, my love secheth, With gret preiere and me besecheth: And some maken gret manace, That if thei mihten come in place, Wher that thei mihte here wille have, Ther is nothing me scholde save, That thei ne wolde werche thinges; And some tellen me tidynges That ye ben ded, and some sein That certeinly ye ben besein 180 To love a newe and leve me. Bot hou as evere that it be, I thonke unto the goddes alle, As yit for oght that is befalle Mai noman do my chekes rede: Bot natheles it is to drede, That Lachesse in continuance Fortune mihte such a chance, Which noman after scholde amende.” Lo, thus this ladi compleignende 190 A lettre unto hire lord hath write, And preyde him that he wolde wite And thenke hou that sche was al his, And that he tarie noght in this, Bot that he wolde his love aquite, To hire ayeinward and noght wryte, Bot come himself in alle haste, That he non other paper waste; So that he kepe and holde his trowthe Withoute lette of eny Slowthe. 200

Unto hire lord and love liege To Troie, wher the grete Siege Was leid, this lettre was conveied. And he, which wisdom hath pourveied Of al that to reson belongeth, With gentil herte it underfongeth: And whan he hath it overrad, In part he was riht inly glad, And ek in part he was desesed: Bot love his herte hath so thorghsesed 210 With pure ymaginacioun, That for non occupacioun Which he can take on other side, He mai noght flitt his herte aside Fro that his wif him hadde enformed; Wherof he hath himself conformed With al the wille of his corage To schape and take the viage Homward, what time that he mai: So that him thenketh of a day 220 A thousand yer, til he mai se The visage of Penolope, Which he desireth most of alle. And whan the time is so befalle That Troie was destruid and brent, He made non delaiement, Bot goth him home in alle hihe, Wher that he fond tofore his yhe His worthi wif in good astat: And thus was cessed the debat 230 Of love, and Slowthe was excused, Which doth gret harm, where it is used, And hindreth many a cause honeste.

For of the grete Clerc Grossteste I rede how besy that he was Upon clergie an Hed of bras To forge, and make it forto telle Of suche thinges as befelle. And sevene yeres besinesse He leyde, bot for the lachesse 240 Of half a Minut of an houre, Fro ferst that he began laboure He loste all that he hadde do.

And otherwhile it fareth so, In loves cause who is slow, That he withoute under the wow Be nyhte stant fulofte acold, Which mihte, if that he hadde wold His time kept, have be withinne.

Bot Slowthe mai no profit winne, 250 Bot he mai singe in his karole How Latewar cam to the Dole, Wher he no good receive mihte. And that was proved wel be nyhte Whilom of the Maidenes fyve, Whan thilke lord cam forto wyve: For that here oyle was aweie To lihte here lampes in his weie, Here Slowthe broghte it so aboute, Fro him that thei ben schet withoute. 260

Wherof, my Sone, be thou war, Als ferforth as I telle dar. For love moste ben awaited: And if thou be noght wel affaited In love to eschuie Slowthe, Mi Sone, forto telle trowthe, Thou miht noght of thiself ben able To winne love or make it stable, All thogh thou mihtest love achieve.

Mi fader, that I mai wel lieve. 270 Bot me was nevere assigned place, Wher yit to geten eny grace, Ne me was non such time apointed; For thanne I wolde I were unjoynted Of every lime that I have, If I ne scholde kepe and save Min houre bothe and ek my stede, If my ladi it hadde bede. Bot sche is otherwise avised Than grante such a time assised; 280 And natheles of mi lachesse Ther hath be no defalte I gesse Of time lost, if that I mihte: Bot yit hire liketh noght alyhte Upon no lure which I caste; For ay the more I crie faste, The lasse hire liketh forto hiere. So forto speke of this matiere, I seche that I mai noght finde, I haste and evere I am behinde, 290 And wot noght what it mai amounte. Bot, fader, upon myn acompte, Which ye be sett to examine Of Schrifte after the discipline, Sey what your beste conseil is.

Mi Sone, my conseil is this: Hou so it stonde of time go, Do forth thi besinesse so, That no Lachesce in the be founde: For Slowthe is mihti to confounde 300 The spied of every mannes werk. For many a vice, as seith the clerk, Ther hongen upon Slowthes lappe Of suche as make a man mishappe, To pleigne and telle of hadde I wist. And therupon if that thee list To knowe of Slowthes cause more, In special yit overmore Ther is a vice full grevable To him which is therof coupable, 310 And stant of alle vertu bare, Hierafter as I schal declare.

Touchende of Slowthe in his degre, Ther is yit Pusillamite, Which is to seie in this langage, He that hath litel of corage And dar no mannes werk beginne: So mai he noght be resoun winne; For who that noght dar undertake, Be riht he schal no profit take. 320 Bot of this vice the nature Dar nothing sette in aventure, Him lacketh bothe word and dede, Wherof he scholde his cause spede: He woll no manhed understonde, For evere he hath drede upon honde: Al is peril that he schal seie, Him thenkth the wolf is in the weie, And of ymaginacioun He makth his excusacioun 330 And feigneth cause of pure drede, And evere he faileth ate nede, Til al be spilt that he with deleth. He hath the sor which noman heleth, The which is cleped lack of herte; Thogh every grace aboute him sterte, He wol noght ones stere his fot; So that be resoun lese he mot, That wol noght auntre forto winne.

And so forth, Sone, if we beginne 340 To speke of love and his servise, Ther ben truantz in such a wise, That lacken herte, whan best were To speke of love, and riht for fere Thei wexen doumb and dar noght telle, Withoute soun as doth the belle, Which hath no claper forto chyme; And riht so thei as for the tyme Ben herteles withoute speche Of love, and dar nothing beseche; 350 And thus thei lese and winne noght. Forthi, my Sone, if thou art oght Coupable as touchende of this Slowthe, Schrif thee therof and tell me trowthe.

Mi fader, I am al beknowe That I have ben on of tho slowe, As forto telle in loves cas. Min herte is yit and evere was, As thogh the world scholde al tobreke, So ferful, that I dar noght speke 360 Of what pourpos that I have nome, Whan I toward mi ladi come, Bot let it passe and overgo.

Mi Sone, do nomore so: For after that a man poursuieth To love, so fortune suieth, Fulofte and yifth hire happi chance To him which makth continuance To preie love and to beseche; As be ensample I schal thee teche. 370

I finde hou whilom ther was on, Whos name was Pymaleon, Which was a lusti man of yowthe: The werkes of entaile he cowthe Above alle othre men as tho; And thurgh fortune it fell him so, As he whom love schal travaile, He made an ymage of entaile Lich to a womman in semblance Of feture and of contienance, 380 So fair yit nevere was figure. Riht as a lyves creature Sche semeth, for of yvor whyt He hath hire wroght of such delit, That sche was rody on the cheke And red on bothe hire lippes eke; Wherof that he himself beguileth. For with a goodly lok sche smyleth, So that thurgh pure impression Of his ymaginacion 390 With al the herte of his corage His love upon this faire ymage He sette, and hire of love preide; Bot sche no word ayeinward seide. The longe day, what thing he dede, This ymage in the same stede Was evere bi, that ate mete He wolde hire serve and preide hire ete, And putte unto hire mowth the cuppe; And whan the bord was taken uppe, 400 He hath hire into chambre nome, And after, whan the nyht was come, He leide hire in his bed al nakid. He was forwept, he was forwakid, He keste hire colde lippes ofte, And wissheth that thei weren softe, And ofte he rouneth in hire Ere, And ofte his arm now hier now there He leide, as he hir wolde embrace, And evere among he axeth grace, 410 As thogh sche wiste what he mente: And thus himself he gan tormente With such desese of loves peine, That noman mihte him more peine. Bot how it were, of his penance He made such continuance Fro dai to nyht, and preith so longe, That his preiere is underfonge, Which Venus of hire grace herde; Be nyhte and whan that he worst ferde, 420 And it lay in his nakede arm, The colde ymage he fieleth warm Of fleissh and bon and full of lif.

Lo, thus he wan a lusti wif, Which obeissant was at his wille; And if he wolde have holde him stille And nothing spoke, he scholde have failed: Bot for he hath his word travailed And dorste speke, his love he spedde, And hadde al that he wolde abedde. 430 For er thei wente thanne atwo, A knave child betwen hem two Thei gete, which was after hote Paphus, of whom yit hath the note A certein yle, which Paphos Men clepe, and of his name it ros.

Be this ensample thou miht finde That word mai worche above kinde. Forthi, my Sone, if that thou spare To speke, lost is al thi fare, 440 For Slowthe bringth in alle wo. And over this to loke also, The god of love is favorable To hem that ben of love stable, And many a wonder hath befalle: Wherof to speke amonges alle, If that thee list to taken hede, Therof a solein tale I rede, Which I schal telle in remembraunce Upon the sort of loves chaunce. 450

The king Ligdus upon a strif Spak unto Thelacuse his wif, Which thanne was with childe grete; He swor it scholde noght be lete, That if sche have a dowhter bore, That it ne scholde be forlore And slain, wherof sche sory was. So it befell upon this cas, Whan sche delivered scholde be, Isis be nyhte in privete, 460 Which of childinge is the goddesse, Cam forto helpe in that destresse, Til that this lady was al smal, And hadde a dowhter forth withal; Which the goddesse in alle weie Bad kepe, and that thei scholden seie It were a Sone: and thus Iphis Thei namede him, and upon this The fader was mad so to wene. And thus in chambre with the qweene 470 This Iphis was forthdrawe tho, And clothed and arraied so Riht as a kinges Sone scholde. Til after, as fortune it wolde, Whan it was of a ten yer age, Him was betake in mariage A Duckes dowhter forto wedde, Which Iante hihte, and ofte abedde These children leien, sche and sche, Whiche of on age bothe be. 480 So that withinne time of yeeres, Togedre as thei ben pleiefieres, Liggende abedde upon a nyht, Nature, which doth every wiht Upon hire lawe forto muse, Constreigneth hem, so that thei use Thing which to hem was al unknowe; Wherof Cupide thilke throwe Tok pite for the grete love, And let do sette kinde above, 490 So that hir lawe mai ben used, And thei upon here lust excused. For love hateth nothing more Than thing which stant ayein the lore Of that nature in kinde hath sett: Forthi Cupide hath so besett His grace upon this aventure, That he acordant to nature, Whan that he syh the time best, That ech of hem hath other kest, 500 Transformeth Iphe into a man, Wherof the kinde love he wan Of lusti yonge Iante his wif; And tho thei ladde a merie lif, Which was to kinde non offence.

And thus to take an evidence, It semeth love is welwillende To hem that ben continuende With besy herte to poursuie Thing which that is to love due. 510 Wherof, my Sone, in this matiere Thou miht ensample taken hiere, That with thi grete besinesse Thou miht atteigne the richesse Of love, if that ther be no Slowthe.

I dar wel seie be mi trowthe, Als fer as I my witt can seche, Mi fader, as for lacke of speche, Bot so as I me schrof tofore, Ther is non other time lore, 520 Wherof ther mihte ben obstacle To lette love of his miracle, Which I beseche day and nyht. Bot, fader, so as it is riht In forme of schrifte to beknowe What thing belongeth to the slowe, Your faderhode I wolde preie, If ther be forthere eny weie Touchende unto this ilke vice.

Mi Sone, ye, of this office 530 Ther serveth on in special, Which lost hath his memorial, So that he can no wit withholde In thing which he to kepe is holde, Wherof fulofte himself he grieveth: And who that most upon him lieveth, Whan that hise wittes ben so weyved, He mai full lihtly be deceived.

To serve Accidie in his office, Ther is of Slowthe an other vice, 540 Which cleped is Foryetelnesse; That noght mai in his herte impresse Of vertu which reson hath sett, So clene his wittes he foryet. For in the tellinge of his tale Nomore his herte thanne his male Hath remembrance of thilke forme, Wherof he scholde his wit enforme As thanne, and yit ne wot he why. Thus is his pourpos noght forthi 550 Forlore of that he wolde bidde, And skarsly if he seith the thridde To love of that he hadde ment: Thus many a lovere hath be schent. Tell on therfore, hast thou be oon Of hem that Slowthe hath so begon?

Ye, fader, ofte it hath be so, That whanne I am mi ladi fro And thenke untoward hire drawe, Than cast I many a newe lawe 560 And al the world torne up so doun, And so recorde I mi lecoun And wryte in my memorial What I to hire telle schal, Riht al the matiere of mi tale: Bot al nys worth a note schale; For whanne I come ther sche is, I have it al foryete ywiss; Of that I thoghte forto telle I can noght thanne unethes spelle 570 That I wende altherbest have rad, So sore I am of hire adrad. For as a man that sodeinli A gost behelde, so fare I; So that for feere I can noght gete Mi witt, bot I miself foryete, That I wot nevere what I am, Ne whider I schal, ne whenne I cam, Bot muse as he that were amased. Lich to the bok in which is rased 580 The lettre, and mai nothing be rad, So ben my wittes overlad, That what as evere I thoghte have spoken, It is out fro myn herte stoken, And stonde, as who seith, doumb and def, That all nys worth an yvy lef, Of that I wende wel have seid. And ate laste I make abreid, Caste up myn hed and loke aboute, Riht as a man that were in doute 590 And wot noght wher he schal become. Thus am I ofte al overcome, Ther as I wende best to stonde: Bot after, whanne I understonde, And am in other place al one, I make many a wofull mone Unto miself, and speke so: “Ha fol, wher was thin herte tho, Whan thou thi worthi ladi syhe? Were thou afered of hire yhe? 600 For of hire hand ther is no drede: So wel I knowe hir wommanhede, That in hire is nomore oultrage Than in a child of thre yeer age. Whi hast thou drede of so good on, Whom alle vertu hath begon, That in hire is no violence Bot goodlihiede and innocence Withouten spot of eny blame? Ha, nyce herte, fy for schame! 610 Ha, couard herte of love unlered, Wherof art thou so sore afered, That thou thi tunge soffrest frese, And wolt thi goode wordes lese, Whan thou hast founde time and space? How scholdest thou deserve grace, Whan thou thiself darst axe non, Bot al thou hast foryete anon?” And thus despute I loves lore, Bot help ne finde I noght the more, 620 Bot stomble upon myn oghne treine And make an ekinge of my peine. For evere whan I thenke among How al is on miself along, I seie, “O fol of alle foles, Thou farst as he betwen tuo stoles That wolde sitte and goth to grounde. It was ne nevere schal be founde, Betwen foryetelnesse and drede That man scholde any cause spede.” 630 And thus, myn holi fader diere, Toward miself, as ye mai hiere, I pleigne of my foryetelnesse; Bot elles al the besinesse, That mai be take of mannes thoght, Min herte takth, and is thorghsoght To thenken evere upon that swete Withoute Slowthe, I you behete. For what so falle, or wel or wo, That thoght foryete I neveremo, 640 Wher so I lawhe or so I loure: Noght half the Minut of an houre Ne mihte I lete out of my mende, Bot if I thoghte upon that hende. Therof me schal no Slowthe lette, Til deth out of this world me fette, Althogh I hadde on such a Ring, As Moises thurgh his enchanting Som time in Ethiope made, Whan that he Tharbis weddid hade. 650 Which Ring bar of Oblivion The name, and that was be resoun That where it on a finger sat, Anon his love he so foryat, As thogh he hadde it nevere knowe: And so it fell that ilke throwe, Whan Tharbis hadde it on hire hond, No knowlechinge of him sche fond, Bot al was clene out of memoire, As men mai rede in his histoire; 660 And thus he wente quit away, That nevere after that ilke day Sche thoghte that ther was such on; Al was foryete and overgon. Bot in good feith so mai noght I: For sche is evere faste by, So nyh that sche myn herte toucheth, That for nothing that Slowthe voucheth I mai foryete hire, lief ne loth; For overal, where as sche goth, 670 Min herte folwith hire aboute. Thus mai I seie withoute doute, For bet, for wers, for oght, for noght, Sche passeth nevere fro my thoght; Bot whanne I am ther as sche is, Min herte, as I you saide er this, Som time of hire is sore adrad, And som time it is overglad, Al out of reule and out of space. For whan I se hir goodli face 680 And thenke upon hire hihe pris, As thogh I were in Paradis, I am so ravisht of the syhte, That speke unto hire I ne myhte As for the time, thogh I wolde: For I ne mai my wit unfolde To finde o word of that I mene, Bot al it is foryete clene; And thogh I stonde there a myle, Al is foryete for the while, 690 A tunge I have and wordes none. And thus I stonde and thenke al one Of thing that helpeth ofte noght; Bot what I hadde afore thoght To speke, whanne I come there, It is foryete, as noght ne were, And stonde amased and assoted, That of nothing which I have noted I can noght thanne a note singe, Bot al is out of knowlechinge: 700 Thus, what for joie and what for drede, Al is foryeten ate nede. So that, mi fader, of this Slowthe I have you said the pleine trowthe; Ye mai it as you list redresce: For thus stant my foryetelnesse And ek my pusillamite. Sey now forth what you list to me, For I wol only do be you.

Mi Sone, I have wel herd how thou 710 Hast seid, and that thou most amende: For love his grace wol noght sende To that man which dar axe non. For this we knowen everichon, A mannes thoght withoute speche God wot, and yit that men beseche His will is; for withoute bedes He doth his grace in fewe stedes: And what man that foryet himselve, Among a thousand be noght tuelve, 720 That wol him take in remembraunce, Bot lete him falle and take his chaunce. Forthi pull up a besi herte, Mi Sone, and let nothing asterte Of love fro thi besinesse: For touchinge of foryetelnesse, Which many a love hath set behinde, A tale of gret ensample I finde, Wherof it is pite to wite In the manere as it is write. 730

King Demephon, whan he be Schipe To Troieward with felaschipe Sailende goth, upon his weie It hapneth him at Rodopeie, As Eolus him hadde blowe, To londe, and rested for a throwe. And fell that ilke time thus, The dowhter of Ligurgius, Which qweene was of the contre, Was sojournende in that Cite 740 Withinne a Castell nyh the stronde, Wher Demephon cam up to londe. Phillis sche hihte, and of yong age And of stature and of visage Sche hadde al that hire best besemeth. Of Demephon riht wel hire qwemeth, Whan he was come, and made him chiere; And he, that was of his manere A lusti knyht, ne myhte asterte That he ne sette on hire his herte; 750 So that withinne a day or tuo He thoghte, how evere that it go, He wolde assaie the fortune, And gan his herte to commune With goodly wordes in hire Ere; And forto put hire out of fere, He swor and hath his trowthe pliht To be for evere hire oghne knyht. And thus with hire he stille abod, Ther while his Schip on Anker rod, 760 And hadde ynowh of time and space To speke of love and seche grace.

This ladi herde al that he seide, And hou he swor and hou he preide, Which was as an enchantement To hire, that was innocent: As thogh it were trowthe and feith, Sche lieveth al that evere he seith, And as hire infortune scholde, Sche granteth him al that he wolde. 770 Thus was he for the time in joie, Til that he scholde go to Troie; Bot tho sche made mochel sorwe, And he his trowthe leith to borwe To come, if that he live may, Ayein withinne a Monthe day, And therupon thei kisten bothe: Bot were hem lieve or were hem lothe, To Schipe he goth and forth he wente To Troie, as was his ferste entente. 780

The daies gon, the Monthe passeth, Hire love encresceth and his lasseth, For him sche lefte slep and mete, And he his time hath al foryete; So that this wofull yonge qweene, Which wot noght what it mihte meene, A lettre sende and preide him come, And seith how sche is overcome With strengthe of love in such a wise, That sche noght longe mai suffise 790 To liven out of his presence; And putte upon his conscience The trowthe which he hath behote, Wherof sche loveth him so hote, Sche seith, that if he lengere lette Of such a day as sche him sette, Sche scholde sterven in his Slowthe, Which were a schame unto his trowthe. This lettre is forth upon hire sonde, Wherof somdiel confort on honde 800 Sche tok, as she that wolde abide And waite upon that ilke tyde Which sche hath in hire lettre write.

Bot now is pite forto wite, As he dede erst, so he foryat His time eftsone and oversat. Bot sche, which mihte noght do so, The tyde awayteth everemo, And caste hire yhe upon the See: Somtime nay, somtime yee, 810 Somtime he cam, somtime noght, Thus sche desputeth in hire thoght And wot noght what sche thenke mai; Bot fastende al the longe day Sche was into the derke nyht, And tho sche hath do set up lyht In a lanterne on hih alofte Upon a Tour, wher sche goth ofte, In hope that in his cominge He scholde se the liht brenninge, 820 Wherof he mihte his weies rihte To come wher sche was be nyhte. Bot al for noght, sche was deceived, For Venus hath hire hope weyved, And schewede hire upon the Sky How that the day was faste by, So that withinne a litel throwe The daies lyht sche mihte knowe. Tho sche behield the See at large; And whan sche sih ther was no barge 830 Ne Schip, als ferr as sche may kenne, Doun fro the Tour sche gan to renne Into an Herber all hire one, Wher many a wonder woful mone Sche made, that no lif it wiste, As sche which all hire joie miste, That now sche swouneth, now sche pleigneth, And al hire face sche desteigneth With teres, whiche, as of a welle The stremes, from hire yhen felle; 840 So as sche mihte and evere in on Sche clepede upon Demephon, And seide, “Helas, thou slowe wiht, Wher was ther evere such a knyht, That so thurgh his ungentilesce Of Slowthe and of foryetelnesse Ayein his trowthe brak his stevene?” And tho hire yhe up to the hevene Sche caste, and seide, “O thou unkinde, Hier schalt thou thurgh thi Slowthe finde, 850 If that thee list to come and se, A ladi ded for love of thee, So as I schal myselve spille; Whom, if it hadde be thi wille, Thou mihtest save wel ynowh.” With that upon a grene bowh A Ceinte of Selk, which sche ther hadde, Sche knette, and so hireself sche ladde, That sche aboute hire whyte swere It dede, and hyng hirselven there. 860 Wherof the goddes were amoeved, And Demephon was so reproeved, That of the goddes providence Was schape such an evidence Evere afterward ayein the slowe, That Phillis in the same throwe Was schape into a Notetre, That alle men it mihte se, And after Phillis Philliberd This tre was cleped in the yerd, 870 And yit for Demephon to schame Into this dai it berth the name. This wofull chance how that it ferde Anon as Demephon it herde, And every man it hadde in speche, His sorwe was noght tho to seche; He gan his Slowthe forto banne, Bot it was al to late thanne.

Lo thus, my Sone, miht thou wite Ayein this vice how it is write; 880 For noman mai the harmes gesse, That fallen thurgh foryetelnesse, Wherof that I thi schrifte have herd. Bot yit of Slowthe hou it hath ferd In other wise I thenke oppose, If thou have gult, as I suppose.

Fulfild of Slowthes essamplaire Ther is yit on, his Secretaire, And he is cleped Negligence: Which wol noght loke his evidence, 890 Wherof he mai be war tofore; Bot whanne he hath his cause lore, Thanne is he wys after the hond: Whanne helpe may no maner bond, Thanne ate ferste wolde he binde: Thus everemore he stant behinde. Whanne he the thing mai noght amende, Thanne is he war, and seith at ende, “Ha, wolde god I hadde knowe!” Wherof bejaped with a mowe 900 He goth, for whan the grete Stiede Is stole, thanne he taketh hiede, And makth the stable dore fast: Thus evere he pleith an aftercast Of al that he schal seie or do. He hath a manere eke also, Him list noght lerne to be wys, For he set of no vertu pris Bot as him liketh for the while; So fieleth he fulofte guile, 910 Whan that he weneth siker stonde. And thus thou miht wel understonde, Mi Sone, if thou art such in love, Thou miht noght come at thin above Of that thou woldest wel achieve.

Mi holi fader, as I lieve, I mai wel with sauf conscience Excuse me of necgligence Towardes love in alle wise: For thogh I be non of the wise, 920 I am so trewly amerous, That I am evere curious Of hem that conne best enforme To knowe and witen al the forme, What falleth unto loves craft. Bot yit ne fond I noght the haft, Which mihte unto that bladd acorde; For nevere herde I man recorde What thing it is that myhte availe To winne love withoute faile. 930 Yit so fer cowthe I nevere finde Man that be resoun ne be kinde Me cowthe teche such an art, That he ne failede of a part; And as toward myn oghne wit, Controeve cowthe I nevere yit To finden eny sikernesse, That me myhte outher more or lesse Of love make forto spede: For lieveth wel withoute drede, 940 If that ther were such a weie, As certeinliche as I schal deie I hadde it lerned longe ago. Bot I wot wel ther is non so: And natheles it may wel be, I am so rude in my degree And ek mi wittes ben so dulle, That I ne mai noght to the fulle Atteigne to so hih a lore. Bot this I dar seie overmore, 950 Althogh mi wit ne be noght strong, It is noght on mi will along, For that is besi nyht and day To lerne al that he lerne may, How that I mihte love winne: Bot yit I am as to beginne Of that I wolde make an ende, And for I not how it schal wende, That is to me mi moste sorwe. Bot I dar take god to borwe, 960 As after min entendement, Non other wise necgligent Thanne I yow seie have I noght be: Forthi per seinte charite Tell me, mi fader, what you semeth.

In good feith, Sone, wel me qwemeth, That thou thiself hast thus aquit Toward this vice, in which no wit Abide mai, for in an houre He lest al that he mai laboure 970 The longe yer, so that men sein, What evere he doth it is in vein. For thurgh the Slowthe of Negligence Ther was yit nevere such science Ne vertu, which was bodely, That nys destruid and lost therby. Ensample that it hath be so In boke I finde write also.

Phebus, which is the Sonne hote, That schyneth upon Erthe hote 980 And causeth every lyves helthe, He hadde a Sone in al his welthe, Which Pheton hihte, and he desireth And with his Moder he conspireth, The which was cleped Clemenee, For help and conseil, so that he His fader carte lede myhte Upon the faire daies brihte. And for this thing thei bothe preide Unto the fader, and he seide 990 He wolde wel, bot forth withal Thre pointz he bad in special Unto his Sone in alle wise, That he him scholde wel avise And take it as be weie of lore. Ferst was, that he his hors to sore Ne prike, and over that he tolde That he the renes faste holde; And also that he be riht war In what manere he lede his charr, 1000 That he mistake noght his gate, Bot up avisement algate He scholde bere a siker yhe, That he to lowe ne to hyhe His carte dryve at eny throwe, Wherof that he mihte overthrowe. And thus be Phebus ordinance Tok Pheton into governance The Sonnes carte, which he ladde: Bot he such veine gloire hadde 1010 Of that he was set upon hyh, That he his oghne astat ne syh Thurgh negligence and tok non hiede; So mihte he wel noght longe spede. For he the hors withoute lawe The carte let aboute drawe Wher as hem liketh wantounly, That ate laste sodeinly, For he no reson wolde knowe, This fyri carte he drof to lowe, 1020 And fyreth al the world aboute; Wherof thei weren alle in doubte, And to the god for helpe criden Of suche unhappes as betyden. Phebus, which syh the necgligence, How Pheton ayein his defence His charr hath drive out of the weie, Ordeigneth that he fell aweie Out of the carte into a flod And dreynte. Lo now, hou it stod 1030 With him that was so necgligent, That fro the hyhe firmament, For that he wolde go to lowe, He was anon doun overthrowe.

In hih astat it is a vice To go to lowe, and in service It grieveth forto go to hye, Wherof a tale in poesie I finde, how whilom Dedalus, Which hadde a Sone, and Icharus 1040 He hihte, and thogh hem thoghte lothe, In such prison thei weren bothe With Minotaurus, that aboute Thei mihten nawher wenden oute; So thei begonne forto schape How thei the prison mihte ascape. This Dedalus, which fro his yowthe Was tawht and manye craftes cowthe, Of fetheres and of othre thinges Hath mad to fle diverse wynges 1050 For him and for his Sone also; To whom he yaf in charge tho And bad him thenke therupon, How that his wynges ben set on With wex, and if he toke his flyhte To hyhe, al sodeinliche he mihte Make it to melte with the Sonne. And thus thei have her flyht begonne Out of the prison faire and softe; And whan thei weren bothe alofte, 1060 This Icharus began to monte, And of the conseil non accompte He sette, which his fader tawhte, Til that the Sonne his wynges cawhte, Wherof it malt, and fro the heihte Withouten help of eny sleihte He fell to his destruccion. And lich to that condicion Ther fallen ofte times fele For lacke of governance in wele, 1070 Als wel in love as other weie.

Now goode fader, I you preie, If ther be more in the matiere Of Slowthe, that I mihte it hiere.

Mi Sone, and for thi diligence, Which every mannes conscience Be resoun scholde reule and kepe, If that thee list to taken kepe, I wol thee telle, aboven alle In whom no vertu mai befalle, 1080 Which yifth unto the vices reste And is of slowe the sloweste.

Among these othre of Slowthes kinde, Which alle labour set behinde, And hateth alle besinesse, Ther is yit on, which Ydelnesse Is cleped, and is the Norrice In mannes kinde of every vice, Which secheth eases manyfold. In Wynter doth he noght for cold, 1090 In Somer mai he noght for hete; So whether that he frese or swete, Or he be inne, or he be oute, He wol ben ydel al aboute, Bot if he pleie oght ate Dees. For who as evere take fees And thenkth worschipe to deserve, Ther is no lord whom he wol serve, As forto duelle in his servise, Bot if it were in such a wise, 1100 Of that he seth per aventure That be lordschipe and coverture He mai the more stonde stille, And use his ydelnesse at wille. For he ne wol no travail take To ryde for his ladi sake, Bot liveth al upon his wisshes; And as a cat wolde ete fisshes Withoute wetinge of his cles, So wolde he do, bot natheles 1110 He faileth ofte of that he wolde.

Mi Sone, if thou of such a molde Art mad, now tell me plein thi schrifte.

Nay, fader, god I yive a yifte. That toward love, as be mi wit, Al ydel was I nevere yit, Ne nevere schal, whil I mai go.

Now, Sone, tell me thanne so, What hast thou don of besischipe To love and to the ladischipe 1120 Of hire which thi ladi is?

Mi fader, evere yit er this In every place, in every stede, What so mi lady hath me bede, With al myn herte obedient I have therto be diligent. And if so is sche bidde noght, What thing that thanne into my thoght Comth ferst of that I mai suffise, I bowe and profre my servise, 1130 Somtime in chambre, somtime in halle, Riht as I se the times falle. And whan sche goth to hiere masse, That time schal noght overpasse, That I naproche hir ladihede, In aunter if I mai hire lede Unto the chapelle and ayein. Thanne is noght al mi weie in vein, Somdiel I mai the betre fare, Whan I, that mai noght fiele hir bare, 1140 Mai lede hire clothed in myn arm: Bot afterward it doth me harm Of pure ymaginacioun; For thanne this collacioun I make unto miselven ofte, And seie, “Ha lord, hou sche is softe, How sche is round, hou sche is smal! Now wolde god I hadde hire al Withoute danger at mi wille!” And thanne I sike and sitte stille, 1150 Of that I se mi besi thoght Is torned ydel into noght. Bot for al that lete I ne mai, Whanne I se time an other dai, That I ne do my besinesse Unto mi ladi worthinesse. For I therto mi wit afaite To se the times and awaite What is to done and what to leve: And so, whan time is, be hir leve, 1160 What thing sche bit me don, I do, And wher sche bidt me gon, I go, And whanne hir list to clepe, I come. Thus hath sche fulliche overcome Min ydelnesse til I sterve, So that I mot hire nedes serve, For as men sein, nede hath no lawe. Thus mot I nedly to hire drawe, I serve, I bowe, I loke, I loute, Min yhe folweth hire aboute, 1170 What so sche wole so wol I, Whan sche wol sitte, I knele by, And whan sche stant, than wol I stonde: Bot whan sche takth hir werk on honde Of wevinge or enbrouderie, Than can I noght bot muse and prie Upon hir fingres longe and smale, And now I thenke, and now I tale, And now I singe, and now I sike, And thus mi contienance I pike. 1180 And if it falle, as for a time Hir liketh noght abide bime, Bot besien hire on other thinges, Than make I othre tariinges To dreche forth the longe dai, For me is loth departe away. And thanne I am so simple of port, That forto feigne som desport I pleie with hire litel hound Now on the bedd, now on the ground, 1190 Now with hir briddes in the cage; For ther is non so litel page, Ne yit so simple a chamberere, That I ne make hem alle chere, Al for thei scholde speke wel: Thus mow ye sen mi besi whiel, That goth noght ydeliche aboute. And if hir list to riden oute On pelrinage or other stede, I come, thogh I be noght bede, 1200 And take hire in min arm alofte And sette hire in hire sadel softe, And so forth lede hire be the bridel, For that I wolde noght ben ydel. And if hire list to ride in Char, And thanne I mai therof be war, Anon I schape me to ryde Riht evene be the Chares side; And as I mai, I speke among, And otherwhile I singe a song, 1210 Which Ovide in his bokes made, And seide, “O whiche sorwes glade, O which wofull prosperite Belongeth to the proprete Of love, who so wole him serve! And yit therfro mai noman swerve, That he ne mot his lawe obeie.” And thus I ryde forth mi weie, And am riht besi overal With herte and with mi body al, 1220 As I have said you hier tofore. My goode fader, tell therfore, Of Ydelnesse if I have gilt.

Mi Sone, bot thou telle wilt Oght elles than I mai now hiere, Thou schalt have no penance hiere. And natheles a man mai se, How now adayes that ther be Ful manye of suche hertes slowe, That wol noght besien hem to knowe 1230 What thing love is, til ate laste, That he with strengthe hem overcaste, That malgre hem thei mote obeie And don al ydelschipe aweie, To serve wel and besiliche. Bot, Sone, thou art non of swiche, For love schal the wel excuse: Bot otherwise, if thou refuse To love, thou miht so per cas Ben ydel, as somtime was 1240 A kinges dowhter unavised, Til that Cupide hire hath chastised: Wherof thou schalt a tale hiere Acordant unto this matiere.

Of Armenye, I rede thus, Ther was a king, which Herupus Was hote, and he a lusti Maide To dowhter hadde, and as men saide Hire name was Rosiphelee; Which tho was of gret renomee, 1250 For sche was bothe wys and fair And scholde ben hire fader hair. Bot sche hadde o defalte of Slowthe Towardes love, and that was rowthe; For so wel cowde noman seie, Which mihte sette hire in the weie Of loves occupacion Thurgh non ymaginacion; That scole wolde sche noght knowe. And thus sche was on of the slowe 1260 As of such hertes besinesse, Til whanne Venus the goddesse, Which loves court hath forto reule, Hath broght hire into betre reule, Forth with Cupide and with his miht: For thei merveille how such a wiht, Which tho was in hir lusti age, Desireth nother Mariage Ne yit the love of paramours, Which evere hath be the comun cours 1270 Amonges hem that lusti were. So was it schewed after there: For he that hihe hertes loweth With fyri Dartes whiche he throweth, Cupide, which of love is godd, In chastisinge hath mad a rodd To dryve awei hir wantounesse; So that withinne a while, I gesse, Sche hadde on such a chance sporned, That al hire mod was overtorned, 1280 Which ferst sche hadde of slow manere: For thus it fell, as thou schalt hiere. Whan come was the Monthe of Maii, Sche wolde walke upon a dai, And that was er the Sonne Ariste; Of wommen bot a fewe it wiste, And forth sche wente prively Unto the Park was faste by, Al softe walkende on the gras, Til sche cam ther the Launde was, 1290 Thurgh which ther ran a gret rivere. It thoghte hir fair, and seide, “Here I wole abide under the schawe”: And bad hire wommen to withdrawe, And ther sche stod al one stille, To thenke what was in hir wille. Sche sih the swote floures springe, Sche herde glade foules singe, Sche sih the bestes in her kinde, The buck, the do, the hert, the hinde, 1300 The madle go with the femele; And so began ther a querele Betwen love and hir oghne herte, Fro which sche couthe noght asterte. And as sche caste hire yhe aboute, Sche syh clad in o suite a route Of ladis, wher thei comen ryde Along under the wodes syde: On faire amblende hors thei sete, That were al whyte, fatte and grete, 1310 And everichon thei ride on side. The Sadles were of such a Pride, With Perle and gold so wel begon, So riche syh sche nevere non; In kertles and in Copes riche Thei weren clothed, alle liche, Departed evene of whyt and blew; With alle lustes that sche knew Thei were enbrouded overal. Here bodies weren long and smal, 1320 The beaute faye upon her face Non erthly thing it may desface; Corones on here hed thei beere, As ech of hem a qweene weere, That al the gold of Cresus halle The leste coronal of alle Ne mihte have boght after the worth: Thus come thei ridende forth.

The kinges dowhter, which this syh, For pure abaissht drowh hire adryh 1330 And hield hire clos under the bowh, And let hem passen stille ynowh; For as hire thoghte in hire avis, To hem that were of such a pris Sche was noght worthi axen there, Fro when they come or what thei were: Bot levere than this worldes good Sche wolde have wist hou that it stod, And putte hire hed alitel oute; And as sche lokede hire aboute, 1340 Sche syh comende under the linde A womman up an hors behinde. The hors on which sche rod was blak, Al lene and galled on the back, And haltede, as he were encluyed, Wherof the womman was annuied; Thus was the hors in sori plit, Bot for al that a sterre whit Amiddes in the front he hadde. Hir Sadel ek was wonder badde, 1350 In which the wofull womman sat, And natheles ther was with that A riche bridel for the nones Of gold and preciouse Stones. Hire cote was somdiel totore; Aboute hir middel twenty score Of horse haltres and wel mo Ther hyngen ate time tho.

Thus whan sche cam the ladi nyh, Than tok sche betre hiede and syh 1360 This womman fair was of visage, Freyssh, lusti, yong and of tendre age; And so this ladi, ther sche stod, Bethoghte hire wel and understod That this, which com ridende tho, Tidinges couthe telle of tho, Which as sche sih tofore ryde, And putte hir forth and preide abide, And seide, “Ha, Suster, let me hiere, What ben thei, that now riden hiere, 1370 And ben so richeliche arraied?”

This womman, which com so esmaied, Ansuerde with ful softe speche, And seith, “Ma Dame, I schal you teche. These ar of tho that whilom were Servantz to love, and trowthe beere, Ther as thei hadde here herte set. Fare wel, for I mai noght be let: Ma Dame, I go to mi servise, So moste I haste in alle wise; 1380 Forthi, ma Dame, yif me leve, I mai noght longe with you leve.”

“Ha, goode Soster, yit I preie, Tell me whi ye ben so beseie And with these haltres thus begon.”

“Ma Dame, whilom I was on That to mi fader hadde a king; Bot I was slow, and for no thing Me liste noght to love obeie, And that I now ful sore abeie. 1390 For I whilom no love hadde, Min hors is now so fieble and badde, And al totore is myn arai, And every yeer this freisshe Maii These lusti ladis ryde aboute, And I mot nedes suie here route In this manere as ye now se, And trusse here haltres forth with me, And am bot as here horse knave. Non other office I ne have, 1400 Hem thenkth I am worthi nomore, For I was slow in loves lore, Whan I was able forto lere, And wolde noght the tales hiere Of hem that couthen love teche.”

“Now tell me thanne, I you beseche, Wherof that riche bridel serveth.”

With that hire chere awei sche swerveth, And gan to wepe, and thus sche tolde: “This bridel, which ye nou beholde 1410 So riche upon myn horse hed,— Ma Dame, afore, er I was ded, Whan I was in mi lusti lif, Ther fel into myn herte a strif Of love, which me overcom, So that therafter hiede I nom And thoghte I wolde love a kniht: That laste wel a fourtenyht, For it no lengere mihte laste, So nyh my lif was ate laste. 1420 Bot now, allas, to late war That I ne hadde him loved ar: For deth cam so in haste bime, Er I therto hadde eny time, That it ne mihte ben achieved. Bot for al that I am relieved, Of that mi will was good therto, That love soffreth it be so That I schal swiche a bridel were. Now have ye herd al myn ansuere: 1430 To godd, ma Dame, I you betake, And warneth alle for mi sake, Of love that thei ben noght ydel, And bidd hem thenke upon mi brydel.” And with that word al sodeinly Sche passeth, as it were a Sky, Al clene out of this ladi sihte: And tho for fere hire herte afflihte, And seide to hirself, “Helas! I am riht in the same cas. 1440 Bot if I live after this day, I schal amende it, if I may.” And thus homward this lady wente, And changede al hire ferste entente, Withinne hire herte and gan to swere That sche none haltres wolde bere.

Lo, Sone, hier miht thou taken hiede, How ydelnesse is forto drede, Namliche of love, as I have write. For thou miht understonde and wite, 1450 Among the gentil nacion Love is an occupacion, Which forto kepe hise lustes save Scholde every gentil herte have: For as the ladi was chastised, Riht so the knyht mai ben avised, Which ydel is and wol noght serve To love, he mai per cas deserve A grettere peine than sche hadde, Whan sche aboute with hire ladde 1460 The horse haltres; and forthi Good is to be wel war therbi. Bot forto loke aboven alle, These Maidens, hou so that it falle, Thei scholden take ensample of this Which I have told, for soth it is.

Mi ladi Venus, whom I serve, What womman wole hire thonk deserve, Sche mai noght thilke love eschuie Of paramours, bot sche mot suie 1470 Cupides lawe; and natheles Men sen such love sielde in pes, That it nys evere upon aspie Of janglinge and of fals Envie, Fulofte medlid with disese: Bot thilke love is wel at ese, Which set is upon mariage; For that dar schewen the visage In alle places openly. A gret mervaile it is forthi, 1480 How that a Maiden wolde lette, That sche hir time ne besette To haste unto that ilke feste, Wherof the love is al honeste. Men mai recovere lost of good, Bot so wys man yit nevere stod, Which mai recovere time lore: So mai a Maiden wel therfore Ensample take, of that sche strangeth Hir love, and longe er that sche changeth 1490 Hir herte upon hir lustes greene To mariage, as it is seene. For thus a yer or tuo or thre Sche lest, er that sche wedded be, Whyl sche the charge myhte bere Of children, whiche the world forbere Ne mai, bot if it scholde faile. Bot what Maiden hire esposaile Wol tarie, whan sche take mai, Sche schal per chance an other dai 1500 Be let, whan that hire lievest were. Wherof a tale unto hire Ere, Which is coupable upon this dede, I thenke telle of that I rede.

Among the Jewes, as men tolde, Ther was whilom be daies olde A noble Duck, which Jepte hihte. And fell, he scholde go to fyhte Ayein Amon the cruel king: And forto speke upon this thing, 1510 Withinne his herte he made avou To god and seide, “Ha lord, if thou Wolt grante unto thi man victoire, I schal in tokne of thi memoire The ferste lif that I mai se, Of man or womman wher it be, Anon as I come hom ayein, To thee, which art god sovereign, Slen in thi name and sacrifie.” And thus with his chivalerie 1520 He goth him forth, wher that he scholde, And wan al that he winne wolde And overcam his fomen alle.

Mai noman lette that schal falle. This Duc a lusti dowhter hadde, And fame, which the wordes spradde, Hath broght unto this ladi Ere How that hire fader hath do there. Sche waiteth upon his cominge With dansinge and with carolinge, 1530 As sche that wolde be tofore Al othre, and so sche was therfore In Masphat at hir fader gate The ferste; and whan he com therate, And sih his douhter, he tobreide Hise clothes and wepende he seide:

“O mihti god among ous hiere, Nou wot I that in no manere This worldes joie mai be plein. I hadde al that I coude sein 1540 Ayein mi fomen be thi grace, So whan I cam toward this place Ther was non gladdere man than I: But now, mi lord, al sodeinli Mi joie is torned into sorwe, For I mi dowhter schal tomorwe Tohewe and brenne in thi servise To loenge of thi sacrifise Thurgh min avou, so as it is.”

The Maiden, whan sche wiste of this, 1550 And sih the sorwe hir fader made, So as sche mai with wordes glade Conforteth him, and bad him holde The covenant which he is holde Towardes god, as he behihte. Bot natheles hire herte aflihte Of that sche sih hire deth comende; And thanne unto the ground knelende Tofore hir fader sche is falle, And seith, so as it is befalle 1560 Upon this point that sche schal deie, Of o thing ferst sche wolde him preie, That fourty daies of respit He wolde hir grante upon this plit, That sche the whyle mai bewepe Hir maidenhod, which sche to kepe So longe hath had and noght beset; Wherof her lusti youthe is let, That sche no children hath forthdrawe In Mariage after the lawe, 1570 So that the poeple is noght encressed. Bot that it mihte be relessed, That sche hir time hath lore so, Sche wolde be his leve go With othre Maidens to compleigne, And afterward unto the peine Of deth sche wolde come ayein.

The fader herde his douhter sein, And therupon of on assent The Maidens were anon asent, 1580 That scholden with this Maiden wende. So forto speke unto this ende, Thei gon the dounes and the dales With wepinge and with wofull tales, And every wyht hire maidenhiede Compleigneth upon thilke nede, That sche no children hadde bore, Wherof sche hath hir youthe lore, Which nevere sche recovere mai: For so fell that hir laste dai 1590 Was come, in which sche scholde take Hir deth, which sche may noght forsake. Lo, thus sche deiede a wofull Maide For thilke cause which I saide, As thou hast understonde above.

Mi fader, as toward the Love Of Maidens forto telle trowthe, Ye have thilke vice of Slowthe, Me thenkth, riht wonder wel declared, That ye the wommen have noght spared 1600 Of hem that tarien so behinde. Bot yit it falleth in my minde, Toward the men hou that ye spieke Of hem that wole no travail sieke In cause of love upon decerte: To speke in wordes so coverte, I not what travaill that ye mente.

Mi Sone, and after min entente I woll thee telle what I thoghte, Hou whilom men here loves boghte 1610 Thurgh gret travaill in strange londes, Wher that thei wroghten with here hondes Of armes many a worthi dede, In sondri place as men mai rede.

That every love of pure kinde Is ferst forthdrawe, wel I finde: Bot natheles yit overthis Decerte doth so that it is The rather had in mani place. Forthi who secheth loves grace, 1620 Wher that these worthi wommen are, He mai noght thanne himselve spare Upon his travail forto serve, Wherof that he mai thonk deserve, There as these men of Armes be, Somtime over the grete Se: So that be londe and ek be Schipe He mot travaile for worschipe And make manye hastyf rodes, Somtime in Prus, somtime in Rodes, 1630 And somtime into Tartarie; So that these heraldz on him crie, “Vailant, vailant, lo, wher he goth!” And thanne he yifth hem gold and cloth, So that his fame mihte springe, And to his ladi Ere bringe Som tidinge of his worthinesse; So that sche mihte of his prouesce Of that sche herde men recorde, The betre unto his love acorde 1640 And danger pute out of hire mod, Whanne alle men recorden good, And that sche wot wel, for hir sake That he no travail wol forsake.

Mi Sone, of this travail I meene: Nou schrif thee, for it schal be sene If thou art ydel in this cas.

My fader ye, and evere was: For as me thenketh trewely That every man doth mor than I 1650 As of this point, and if so is That I have oght so don er this, It is so litel of acompte, As who seith, it mai noght amonte To winne of love his lusti yifte. For this I telle you in schrifte, That me were levere hir love winne Than Kaire and al that is ther inne: And forto slen the hethen alle, I not what good ther mihte falle, 1660 So mochel blod thogh ther be schad. This finde I writen, hou Crist bad That noman other scholde sle. What scholde I winne over the Se, If I mi ladi loste at hom? Bot passe thei the salte fom, To whom Crist bad thei scholden preche To al the world and his feith teche: Bot now thei rucken in here nest And resten as hem liketh best 1670 In all the swetnesse of delices. Thus thei defenden ous the vices, And sitte hemselven al amidde; To slen and feihten thei ous bidde Hem whom thei scholde, as the bok seith, Converten unto Cristes feith. Bot hierof have I gret mervaile, Hou thei wol bidde me travaile: A Sarazin if I sle schal, I sle the Soule forth withal, 1680 And that was nevere Cristes lore. Bot nou ho ther, I seie nomore.

Bot I wol speke upon mi schrifte; And to Cupide I make a yifte, That who as evere pris deserve Of armes, I wol love serve; And thogh I scholde hem bothe kepe, Als wel yit wolde I take kepe Whan it were time to abide, As forto travaile and to ryde: 1690 For how as evere a man laboure, Cupide appointed hath his houre.

For I have herd it telle also, Achilles lefte hise armes so Bothe of himself and of his men At Troie for Polixenen, Upon hire love whanne he fell, That for no chance that befell Among the Grecs or up or doun, He wolde noght ayein the toun 1700 Ben armed, for the love of hire. And so me thenketh, lieve Sire, A man of armes mai him reste Somtime in hope for the beste, If he mai finde a weie nerr. What scholde I thanne go so ferr In strange londes many a mile To ryde, and lese at hom therwhile Mi love? It were a schort beyete To winne chaf and lese whete. 1710 Bot if mi ladi bidde wolde, That I for hire love scholde Travaile, me thenkth trewely I mihte fle thurghout the Sky, And go thurghout the depe Se, For al ne sette I at a stre What thonk that I mihte elles gete. What helpeth it a man have mete, Wher drinke lacketh on the bord? What helpeth eny mannes word 1720 To seie hou I travaile faste, Wher as me faileth ate laste That thing which I travaile fore? O in good time were he bore, That mihte atteigne such a mede. Bot certes if I mihte spede With eny maner besinesse Of worldes travail, thanne I gesse, Ther scholde me non ydelschipe Departen fro hir ladischipe. 1730 Bot this I se, on daies nou The blinde god, I wot noght hou, Cupido, which of love is lord, He set the thinges in discord, That thei that lest to love entende Fulofte he wole hem yive and sende Most of his grace; and thus I finde That he that scholde go behinde, Goth many a time ferr tofore: So wot I noght riht wel therfore, 1740 On whether bord that I schal seile. Thus can I noght miself conseile, Bot al I sette on aventure, And am, as who seith, out of cure For ought that I can seie or do: For everemore I finde it so, The more besinesse I leie, The more that I knele and preie With goode wordes and with softe, The more I am refused ofte, 1750 With besinesse and mai noght winne. And in good feith that is gret Sinne; For I mai seie, of dede and thoght That ydel man have I be noght; For hou as evere I be deslaied, Yit evermore I have assaied. Bot thogh my besinesse laste, Al is bot ydel ate laste, For whan theffect is ydelnesse, I not what thing is besinesse. 1760 Sei, what availeth al the dede, Which nothing helpeth ate nede? For the fortune of every fame Schal of his ende bere a name. And thus for oght is yit befalle, An ydel man I wol me calle As after myn entendement: Bot upon youre amendement, Min holi fader, as you semeth, Mi reson and my cause demeth. 1770

Mi Sone, I have herd thi matiere, Of that thou hast thee schriven hiere: And forto speke of ydel fare, Me semeth that thou tharst noght care, Bot only that thou miht noght spede. And therof, Sone, I wol thee rede, Abyd, and haste noght to faste; Thi dees ben every dai to caste, Thou nost what chance schal betyde. Betre is to wayte upon the tyde 1780 Than rowe ayein the stremes stronge: For thogh so be thee thenketh longe, Per cas the revolucion Of hevene and thi condicion Ne be noght yit of on acord. Bot I dar make this record To Venus, whos Prest that I am, That sithen that I hidir cam To hiere, as sche me bad, thi lif, Wherof thou elles be gultif, 1790 Thou miht hierof thi conscience Excuse, and of gret diligence, Which thou to love hast so despended, Thou oghtest wel to be comended. Bot if so be that ther oght faile, Of that thou slowthest to travaile In armes forto ben absent, And for thou makst an argument Of that thou seidest hiere above, Hou Achilles thurgh strengthe of love 1800 Hise armes lefte for a throwe, Thou schalt an other tale knowe, Which is contraire, as thou schalt wite. For this a man mai finde write, Whan that knyhthode schal be werred, Lust mai noght thanne be preferred; The bedd mot thanne be forsake And Schield and spere on honde take, Which thing schal make hem after glade, Whan thei ben worthi knihtes made. 1810 Wherof, so as it comth to honde, A tale thou schalt understonde, Hou that a kniht schal armes suie, And for the while his ese eschuie.

Upon knyhthode I rede thus, How whilom whan the king Nauplus, The fader of Palamades, Cam forto preien Ulixes With othre Gregois ek also, That he with hem to Troie go, 1820 Wher that the Siege scholde be, Anon upon Penolope His wif, whom that he loveth hote, Thenkende, wolde hem noght behote. Bot he schop thanne a wonder wyle, How that he scholde hem best beguile, So that he mihte duelle stille At home and welde his love at wille: Wherof erli the morwe day Out of his bedd, wher that he lay, 1830 Whan he was uppe, he gan to fare Into the field and loke and stare, As he which feigneth to be wod: He tok a plowh, wher that it stod, Wherinne anon in stede of Oxes He let do yoken grete foxes, And with gret salt the lond he siew. But Nauplus, which the cause kniew, Ayein the sleihte which he feigneth An other sleihte anon ordeigneth. 1840 And fell that time Ulixes hadde A chyld to Sone, and Nauplus radde How men that Sone taken scholde, And setten him upon the Molde, Wher that his fader hield the plowh, In thilke furgh which he tho drowh. For in such wise he thoghte assaie, Hou it Ulixes scholde paie, If that he were wod or non.

The knihtes for this child forthgon; 1850 Thelamacus anon was fett, Tofore the plowh and evene sett, Wher that his fader scholde dryve. Bot whan he sih his child, als blyve He drof the plowh out of the weie, And Nauplus tho began to seie, And hath half in a jape cryd: “O Ulixes, thou art aspyd: What is al this thou woldest meene? For openliche it is now seene 1860 That thou hast feigned al this thing, Which is gret schame to a king, Whan that for lust of eny slowthe Thou wolt in a querele of trowthe Of armes thilke honour forsake, And duelle at hom for loves sake: For betre it were honour to winne Than love, which likinge is inne. Forthi tak worschipe upon honde, And elles thou schalt understonde 1870 These othre worthi kinges alle Of Grece, which unto thee calle, Towardes thee wol be riht wrothe, And grieve thee per chance bothe: Which schal be tothe double schame Most for the hindrynge of thi name, That thou for Slouthe of eny love Schalt so thi lustes sette above And leve of armes the knyhthode, Which is the pris of thi manhode 1880 And oghte ferst to be desired.” Bot he, which hadde his herte fyred Upon his wif, whan he this herde, Noght o word therayein ansuerde, Bot torneth hom halvinge aschamed, And hath withinne himself so tamed His herte, that al the sotie Of love for chivalerie He lefte, and be him lief or loth, To Troie forth with hem he goth, 1890 That he him mihte noght excuse. Thus stant it, if a knyht refuse The lust of armes to travaile, Ther mai no worldes ese availe, Bot if worschipe be with al. And that hath schewed overal; For it sit wel in alle wise A kniht to ben of hih emprise And puten alle drede aweie; For in this wise, I have herd seie, 1900

The worthi king Protheselai On his passage wher he lai Towardes Troie thilke Siege, Sche which was al his oghne liege, Laodomie his lusti wif, Which for his love was pensif, As he which al hire herte hadde, Upon a thing wherof sche dradde A lettre, forto make him duelle Fro Troie, sende him, thus to telle, 1910 Hou sche hath axed of the wyse Touchende of him in such a wise, That thei have don hire understonde, Towardes othre hou so it stonde, The destine it hath so schape That he schal noght the deth ascape In cas that he arryve at Troie. Forthi as to hir worldes joie With al hire herte sche him preide, And many an other cause alleide, 1920 That he with hire at home abide. Bot he hath cast hir lettre aside, As he which tho no maner hiede Tok of hire wommannysshe drede; And forth he goth, as noght ne were, To Troie, and was the ferste there Which londeth, and tok arryvaile: For him was levere in the bataille, He seith, to deien as a knyht, Than forto lyve in al his myht 1930 And be reproeved of his name. Lo, thus upon the worldes fame Knyhthode hath evere yit be set, Which with no couardie is let.

Of king Saül also I finde, Whan Samuel out of his kinde, Thurgh that the Phitonesse hath lered, In Samarie was arered Long time after that he was ded, The king Saül him axeth red, 1940 If that he schal go fyhte or non. And Samuel him seide anon, “The ferste day of the bataille Thou schalt be slain withoute faile And Jonathas thi Sone also.” Bot hou as evere it felle so, This worthi kniht of his corage Hath undertake the viage, And wol noght his knyhthode lette For no peril he couthe sette; 1950 Wherof that bothe his Sone and he Upon the Montz of Gelboe Assemblen with here enemys: For thei knyhthode of such a pris Be olde daies thanne hielden, That thei non other thing behielden. And thus the fader for worschipe Forth with his Sone of felaschipe Thurgh lust of armes weren dede, As men mai in the bible rede; 1960 The whos knyhthode is yit in mende, And schal be to the worldes ende.

And forto loken overmore, It hath and schal ben evermore That of knihthode the prouesse Is grounded upon hardinesse Of him that dar wel undertake. And who that wolde ensample take Upon the forme of knyhtes lawe, How that Achilles was forthdrawe 1970 With Chiro, which Centaurus hihte, Of many a wondre hiere he mihte. For it stod thilke time thus, That this Chiro, this Centaurus, Withinne a large wildernesse, Wher was Leon and Leonesse, The Lepard and the Tigre also, With Hert and Hynde, and buck and doo, Hadde his duellinge, as tho befell, Of Pileon upon the hel, 1980 Wherof was thanne mochel speche. Ther hath Chiro this Chyld to teche, What time he was of tuelve yer age; Wher forto maken his corage The more hardi be other weie, In the forest to hunte and pleie Whan that Achilles walke wolde, Centaurus bad that he ne scholde After no beste make his chace, Which wolde flen out of his place, 1990 As buck and doo and hert and hynde, With whiche he mai no werre finde; Bot tho that wolden him withstonde, Ther scholde he with his Dart on honde Upon the Tigre and the Leon Pourchace and take his veneison, As to a kniht is acordant. And therupon a covenant This Chiro with Achilles sette, That every day withoute lette 2000 He scholde such a cruel beste Or slen or wounden ate leste, So that he mihte a tokne bringe Of blod upon his hom cominge. And thus of that Chiro him tawhte Achilles such an herte cawhte, That he nomore a Leon dradde, Whan he his Dart on honde hadde, Thanne if a Leon were an asse: And that hath mad him forto passe 2010 Alle othre knihtes of his dede, Whan it cam to the grete nede, As it was afterward wel knowe.

Lo, thus, my Sone, thou miht knowe That the corage of hardiesce Is of knyhthode the prouesce, Which is to love sufficant Aboven al the remenant That unto loves court poursuie. Bot who that wol no Slowthe eschuie, 2020 Upon knihthode and noght travaile, I not what love him scholde availe; Bot every labour axeth why Of som reward, wherof that I Ensamples couthe telle ynowe Of hem that toward love drowe Be olde daies, as thei scholde.

Mi fader, therof hiere I wolde.

Mi Sone, it is wel resonable, In place which is honorable 2030 If that a man his herte sette, That thanne he for no Slowthe lette To do what longeth to manhede. For if thou wolt the bokes rede Of Lancelot and othre mo, Ther miht thou sen hou it was tho Of armes, for thei wolde atteigne To love, which withoute peine Mai noght be gete of ydelnesse. And that I take to witnesse 2040 An old Cronique in special, The which into memorial Is write, for his loves sake Hou that a kniht schal undertake.

Ther was a king, which Oënes Was hote, and he under his pes Hield Calidoyne in his Empire, And hadde a dowhter Deianire. Men wiste in thilke time non So fair a wiht as sche was on; 2050 And as sche was a lusti wiht, Riht so was thanne a noble kniht, To whom Mercurie fader was. This kniht the tuo pilers of bras, The whiche yit a man mai finde, Sette up in the desert of Ynde; That was the worthi Hercules, Whos name schal ben endeles For the merveilles whiche he wroghte. This Hercules the love soghte 2060 Of Deianire, and of this thing Unto hir fader, which was king, He spak touchende of Mariage. The king knowende his hih lignage, And dradde also hise mihtes sterne, To him ne dorste his dowhter werne; And natheles this he him seide, How Achelons er he ferst preide To wedden hire, and in accord Thei stode, as it was of record: 2070 Bot for al that this he him granteth, That which of hem that other daunteth In armes, him sche scholde take, And that the king hath undertake. This Achelons was a Geant, A soubtil man, a deceivant, Which thurgh magique and sorcerie Couthe al the world of tricherie: And whan that he this tale herde, Hou upon that the king ansuerde 2080 With Hercules he moste feighte, He tristeth noght upon his sleighte Al only, whan it comth to nede, Bot that which voydeth alle drede And every noble herte stereth, The love, that no lif forbereth, For his ladi, whom he desireth, With hardiesse his herte fyreth, And sende him word withoute faile That he wol take the bataille. 2090 Thei setten day, they chosen field, The knihtes coevered under Schield Togedre come at time set, And echon is with other met. It fell thei foghten bothe afote, Ther was no ston, ther was no rote, Which mihte letten hem the weie, But al was voide and take aweie. Thei smyten strokes bot a fewe, For Hercules, which wolde schewe 2100 His grete strengthe as for the nones, He sterte upon him al at ones And cawhte him in hise armes stronge. This Geant wot he mai noght longe Endure under so harde bondes, And thoghte he wolde out of hise hondes Be sleyhte in som manere ascape. And as he couthe himself forschape, In liknesse of an Eddre he slipte Out of his hond, and forth he skipte; 2110 And efte, as he that feighte wole, He torneth him into a Bole, And gan to belwe of such a soun, As thogh the world scholde al go doun: The ground he sporneth and he tranceth, Hise large hornes he avanceth And caste hem here and there aboute. Bot he, which stant of him no doute, Awaiteth wel whan that he cam, And him be bothe hornes nam 2120 And al at ones he him caste Unto the ground, and hield him faste, That he ne mihte with no sleighte Out of his hond gete upon heighte, Til he was overcome and yolde, And Hercules hath what he wolde. The king him granteth to fulfille His axinge at his oghne wille, And sche for whom he hadde served, Hire thoghte he hath hire wel deserved. 2130 And thus with gret decerte of Armes He wan him forto ligge in armes, As he which hath it dere aboght, For otherwise scholde he noght.

And overthis if thou wolt hiere Upon knihthode of this matiere, Hou love and armes ben aqueinted, A man mai se bothe write and peinted So ferforth that Pantasilee, Which was the queene of Feminee, 2140 The love of Hector forto sieke And for thonour of armes eke, To Troie cam with Spere and Schield, And rod hirself into the field With Maidens armed al a route In rescouss of the toun aboute, Which with the Gregois was belein.

Fro Pafagoine and as men sein, Which stant upon the worldes ende, That time it likede ek to wende 2150 To Philemenis, which was king, To Troie, and come upon this thing In helpe of thilke noble toun; And al was that for the renoun Of worschipe and of worldes fame, Of which he wolde bere a name: And so he dede, and forth withal He wan of love in special A fair tribut for everemo. For it fell thilke time so; 2160 Pirrus the Sone of Achilles This worthi queene among the press With dedli swerd soghte out and fond, And slowh hire with his oghne hond; Wherof this king of Pafagoine Pantasilee of Amazoine, Wher sche was queene, with him ladde, With suche Maidens as sche hadde Of hem that were left alyve, Forth in his Schip, til thei aryve; 2170 Wher that the body was begrave With worschipe, and the wommen save. And for the goodschipe of this dede Thei granten him a lusti mede, That every yeer as for truage To him and to his heritage Of Maidens faire he schal have thre. And in this wise spedde he, Which the fortune of armes soghte, With his travail his ese he boghte; 2180 For otherwise he scholde have failed, If that he hadde noght travailed.

Eneas ek withinne Ytaile, Ne hadde he wonne the bataille And don his miht so besily Ayein king Turne his enemy, He hadde noght Lavine wonne; Bot for he hath him overronne And gete his pris, he gat hire love.

Be these ensamples here above, 2190 Lo, now, mi Sone, as I have told, Thou miht wel se, who that is bold And dar travaile and undertake The cause of love, he schal be take The rathere unto loves grace; For comunliche in worthi place The wommen loven worthinesse Of manhode and of gentilesse, For the gentils ben most desired.

Mi fader, bot I were enspired 2200 Thurgh lore of you, I wot no weie What gentilesce is forto seie, Wherof to telle I you beseche.

The ground, Mi Sone, forto seche Upon this diffinicion, The worldes constitucion Hath set the name of gentilesse Upon the fortune of richesse Which of long time is falle in age. Thanne is a man of hih lignage 2210 After the forme, as thou miht hiere, Bot nothing after the matiere. For who that resoun understonde, Upon richesse it mai noght stonde, For that is thing which faileth ofte: For he that stant to day alofte And al the world hath in hise wones, Tomorwe he falleth al at ones Out of richesse into poverte, So that therof is no decerte, 2220 Which gentilesce makth abide. And forto loke on other side Hou that a gentil man is bore, Adam, which alle was tofore With Eve his wif, as of hem tuo, Al was aliche gentil tho; So that of generacion To make declaracion, Ther mai no gentilesce be. For to the reson if we se, 2230 Of mannes berthe the mesure, It is so comun to nature, That it yifth every man aliche, Als wel to povere as to the riche; For naked thei ben bore bothe, The lord nomore hath forto clothe As of himself that ilke throwe, Than hath the povereste of the rowe. And whan thei schulle both passe, I not of hem which hath the lasse 2240 Of worldes good, bot as of charge The lord is more forto charge, Whan god schal his accompte hiere, For he hath had hise lustes hiere. Bot of the bodi, which schal deie, Althogh ther be diverse weie To deth, yit is ther bot on ende, To which that every man schal wende, Als wel the beggere as the lord, Of o nature, of on acord: 2250 Sche which oure Eldemoder is, The Erthe, bothe that and this Receiveth and alich devoureth, That sche to nouther part favoureth. So wot I nothing after kinde Where I mai gentilesse finde.

For lacke of vertu lacketh grace, Wherof richesse in many place, Whan men best wene forto stonde, Al sodeinly goth out of honde: 2260 Bot vertu set in the corage, Ther mai no world be so salvage, Which mihte it take and don aweie, Til whanne that the bodi deie; And thanne he schal be riched so, That it mai faile neveremo; So mai that wel be gentilesse, Which yifth so gret a sikernesse. For after the condicion Of resonable entencion, 2270 The which out of the Soule groweth And the vertu fro vice knoweth, Wherof a man the vice eschuieth, Withoute Slowthe and vertu suieth, That is a verrai gentil man, And nothing elles which he can, Ne which he hath, ne which he mai. Bot for al that yit nou aday, In loves court to taken hiede, The povere vertu schal noght spiede, 2280 Wher that the riche vice woweth; For sielde it is that love alloweth The gentil man withoute good, Thogh his condicion be good. Bot if a man of bothe tuo Be riche and vertuous also, Thanne is he wel the more worth: Bot yit to putte himselve forth He moste don his besinesse, For nowther good ne gentilesse 2290 Mai helpen him whiche ydel be.

Bot who that wole in his degre Travaile so as it belongeth, It happeth ofte that he fongeth Worschipe and ese bothe tuo. For evere yit it hath be so, That love honeste in sondri weie Profiteth, for it doth aweie The vice, and as the bokes sein, It makth curteis of the vilein, 2300 And to the couard hardiesce It yifth, so that verrai prouesse Is caused upon loves reule To him that can manhode reule; And ek toward the wommanhiede, Who that therof wol taken hiede, For thei the betre affaited be In every thing, as men may se. For love hath evere hise lustes grene In gentil folk, as it is sene, 2310 Which thing ther mai no kinde areste: I trowe that ther is no beste, If he with love scholde aqueinte, That he ne wolde make it queinte As for the while that it laste. And thus I conclude ate laste, That thei ben ydel, as me semeth, Whiche unto thing that love demeth Forslowthen that thei scholden do.

And overthis, mi Sone, also 2320 After the vertu moral eke To speke of love if I schal seke, Among the holi bokes wise I finde write in such a wise, “Who loveth noght is hier as ded”; For love above alle othre is hed, Which hath the vertus forto lede, Of al that unto mannes dede Belongeth: for of ydelschipe He hateth all the felaschipe. 2330 For Slowthe is evere to despise, Which in desdeign hath al apprise, And that acordeth noght to man: For he that wit and reson kan, It sit him wel that he travaile Upon som thing which mihte availe, For ydelschipe is noght comended, Bot every lawe it hath defended. And in ensample therupon

The noble wise Salomon, 2340 Which hadde of every thing insihte, Seith, “As the briddes to the flihte Ben made, so the man is bore To labour,” which is noght forbore To hem that thenken forto thryve. For we, whiche are now alyve, Of hem that besi whylom were, Als wel in Scole as elleswhere, Mowe every day ensample take, That if it were now to make 2350 Thing which that thei ferst founden oute, It scholde noght be broght aboute. Here lyves thanne were longe, Here wittes grete, here mihtes stronge, Here hertes ful of besinesse, Wherof the worldes redinesse In bodi bothe and in corage Stant evere upon his avantage. And forto drawe into memoire Here names bothe and here histoire, 2360 Upon the vertu of her dede In sondri bokes thou miht rede.

Of every wisdom the parfit The hyhe god of his spirit Yaf to the men in Erthe hiere Upon the forme and the matiere Of that he wolde make hem wise: And thus cam in the ferste apprise Of bokes and of alle goode Thurgh hem that whilom understode 2370 The lore which to hem was yive, Wherof these othre, that now live, Ben every day to lerne newe. Bot er the time that men siewe, And that the labour forth it broghte, Ther was no corn, thogh men it soghte, In non of al the fieldes oute; And er the wisdom cam aboute Of hem that ferst the bokes write, This mai wel every wys man wite, 2380 Ther was gret labour ek also. Thus was non ydel of the tuo, That on the plogh hath undertake With labour which the hond hath take, That other tok to studie and muse, As he which wolde noght refuse The labour of hise wittes alle. And in this wise it is befalle, Of labour which that thei begunne We be now tawht of that we kunne: 2390 Here besinesse is yit so seene, That it stant evere alyche greene; Al be it so the bodi deie, The name of hem schal nevere aweie. In the Croniqes as I finde,

Cham, whos labour is yit in minde, Was he which ferst the lettres fond And wrot in Hebreu with his hond: Of naturel Philosophie He fond ferst also the clergie. 2400

Cadmus the lettres of Gregois Ferst made upon his oghne chois.

Theges of thing which schal befalle, He was the ferste Augurre of alle:

And Philemon be the visage Fond to descrive the corage.

Cladyns, Esdras and Sulpices, Termegis, Pandulf, Frigidilles, Menander, Ephiloquorus, Solins, Pandas and Josephus 2410 The ferste were of Enditours, Of old Cronique and ek auctours:

And Heredot in his science Of metre, of rime and of cadence The ferste was of which men note.

And of Musique also the note In mannes vois or softe or scharpe, That fond Jubal; and of the harpe The merie soun, which is to like, That fond Poulins forth with phisique. 2420

Zenzis fond ferst the pourtreture, And Promotheus the Sculpture; After what forme that hem thoghte, The resemblance anon thei wroghte.

Tubal in Iren and in Stel Fond ferst the forge and wroghte it wel:

And Jadahel, as seith the bok, Ferst made Net and fisshes tok: Of huntynge ek he fond the chace, Which now is knowe in many place: 2430 A tente of cloth with corde and stake He sette up ferst and dede it make.

Verconius of cokerie Ferst made the delicacie.

The craft Minerve of wolle fond And made cloth hire oghne hond;

And Delbora made it of lyn: Tho wommen were of great engyn.

Bot thing which yifth ous mete and drinke And doth the labourer to swinke 2440 To tile lond and sette vines, Wherof the cornes and the wynes Ben sustenance to mankinde, In olde bokes as I finde, Saturnus of his oghne wit Hath founde ferst, and more yit Of Chapmanhode he fond the weie, And ek to coigne the moneie Of sondri metall, as it is, He was the ferste man of this. 2450

Bot hou that metall cam a place Thurgh mannes wit and goddes grace The route of Philosophres wise Controeveden be sondri wise, Ferst forto gete it out of Myne, And after forto trie and fyne.

And also with gret diligence Thei founden thilke experience, Which cleped is Alconomie, Wherof the Selver multeplie 2460 Thei made and ek the gold also. And forto telle hou it is so, Of bodies sevene in special With foure spiritz joynt withal Stant the substance of this matiere. The bodies whiche I speke of hiere Of the Planetes ben begonne: The gold is titled to the Sonne, The mone of Selver hath his part, And Iren that stant upon Mart, 2470 The Led after Satorne groweth, And Jupiter the Bras bestoweth, The Coper set is to Venus, And to his part Mercurius Hath the quikselver, as it falleth, The which, after the bok it calleth, Is ferst of thilke fowre named Of Spiritz, whiche ben proclamed; And the spirit which is secounde In Sal Armoniak is founde: 2480 The thridde spirit Sulphur is; The ferthe suiende after this Arcennicum be name is hote. With blowinge and with fyres hote In these thinges, whiche I seie, Thei worchen be diverse weie. For as the philosophre tolde Of gold and selver, thei ben holde Tuo principal extremites, To whiche alle othre be degres 2490 Of the metalls ben acordant, And so thurgh kinde resemblant, That what man couthe aweie take The rust, of which thei waxen blake, And the savour and the hardnesse, Thei scholden take the liknesse Of gold or Selver parfitly.

Bot forto worche it sikirly, Betwen the corps and the spirit, Er that the metall be parfit, 2500 In sevene formes it is set; Of alle and if that on be let, The remenant mai noght availe, Bot otherwise it mai noght faile. For thei be whom this art was founde To every point a certain bounde Ordeignen, that a man mai finde This craft is wroght be weie of kinde, So that ther is no fallas inne. Bot what man that this werk beginne, 2510 He mot awaite at every tyde, So that nothing be left aside, Ferst of the distillacion, Forth with the congelacion, Solucion, descencion, And kepe in his entencion The point of sublimacion, And forth with calcinacion Of veray approbacion Do that ther be fixacion 2520 With tempred hetes of the fyr, Til he the parfit Elixir Of thilke philosophres Ston Mai gete, of which that many on Of Philosophres whilom write. And if thou wolt the names wite Of thilke Ston with othre tuo, Whiche as the clerkes maden tho, So as the bokes it recorden, The kinde of hem I schal recorden. 2530

These olde Philosophres wyse Be weie of kinde in sondri wise Thre Stones maden thurgh clergie. The ferste, if I schal specefie, Was _lapis vegetabilis_, Of which the propre vertu is To mannes hele forto serve, As forto kepe and to preserve The bodi fro siknesses alle, Til deth of kinde upon him falle. 2540

The Ston seconde I thee behote Is _lapis animalis_ hote, The whos vertu is propre and cowth For Ere and yhe and nase and mouth, Wherof a man mai hiere and se And smelle and taste in his degre, And forto fiele and forto go It helpeth man of bothe tuo: The wittes fyve he underfongeth To kepe, as it to him belongeth. 2550

The thridde Ston in special Be name is cleped Minerall, Which the metalls of every Mine Attempreth, til that thei ben fyne, And pureth hem be such a weie, That al the vice goth aweie Of rust, of stink and of hardnesse: And whan thei ben of such clennesse, This Mineral, so as I finde, Transformeth al the ferste kynde 2560 And makth hem able to conceive Thurgh his vertu, and to receive Bothe in substance and in figure Of gold and selver the nature. For thei tuo ben thextremetes, To whiche after the propretes Hath every metal his desir, With help and confort of the fyr Forth with this Ston, as it is seid, Which to the Sonne and Mone is leid; 2570 For to the rede and to the whyte This Ston hath pouer to profite. It makth mulptiplicacioun Of gold, and the fixacioun It causeth, and of his habit He doth the werk to be parfit Of thilke Elixer which men calle Alconomie, as is befalle To hem that whilom weren wise. Bot now it stant al otherwise; 2580 Thei speken faste of thilke Ston, Bot hou to make it, nou wot non After the sothe experience. And natheles gret diligence Thei setten upon thilke dede, And spille more than thei spede; For allewey thei finde a lette, Which bringeth in poverte and dette To hem that riche were afore: The lost is had, the lucre is lore, 2590 To gete a pound thei spenden fyve; I not hou such a craft schal thryve In the manere as it is used: It were betre be refused Than forto worchen upon weene In thing which stant noght as thei weene. Bot noght forthi, who that it knewe, The science of himself is trewe Upon the forme as it was founded, Wherof the names yit ben grounded 2600 Of hem that ferste it founden oute; And thus the fame goth aboute To suche as soghten besinesse Of vertu and of worthinesse. Of whom if I the names calle,

Hermes was on the ferste of alle, To whom this art is most applied; Geber therof was magnefied, And Ortolan and Morien, Among the whiche is Avicen, 2610 Which fond and wrot a gret partie The practique of Alconomie; Whos bokes, pleinli as thei stonde Upon this craft, fewe understonde; Bot yit to put hem in assai Ther ben full manye now aday, That knowen litel what thei meene. It is noght on to wite and weene; In forme of wordes thei it trete, Bot yit they failen of beyete, 2620 For of tomoche or of tolyte Ther is algate founde a wyte, So that thei folwe noght the lyne Of the parfite medicine, Which grounded is upon nature. Bot thei that writen the scripture Of Grek, Arabe and of Caldee, Thei were of such Auctorite That thei ferst founden out the weie Of al that thou hast herd me seie; 2630 Wherof the Cronique of her lore Schal stonde in pris for everemore.

Bot toward oure Marches hiere, Of the Latins if thou wolt hiere, Of hem that whilom vertuous Were and therto laborious, Carmente made of hire engin The ferste lettres of Latin, Of which the tunge Romein cam, Wherof that Aristarchus nam 2640 Forth with Donat and Dindimus The ferste reule of Scole, as thus, How that Latin schal be componed And in what wise it schal be soned, That every word in his degre Schal stonde upon congruite. And thilke time at Rome also Was Tullius with Cithero, That writen upon Rethorike, Hou that men schal the wordes pike 2650 After the forme of eloquence, Which is, men sein, a gret prudence: And after that out of Hebreu Jerom, which the langage kneu, The Bible, in which the lawe is closed, Into Latin he hath transposed; And many an other writere ek Out of Caldee, Arabe and Grek With gret labour the bokes wise Translateden. And otherwise 2660 The Latins of hemself also Here studie at thilke time so With gret travaile of Scole toke In sondri forme forto boke, That we mai take here evidences Upon the lore of the Sciences, Of craftes bothe and of clergie; Among the whiche in Poesie To the lovers Ovide wrot And tawhte, if love be to hot, 2670 In what manere it scholde akiele.

Forthi, mi Sone, if that thou fiele That love wringe thee to sore, Behold Ovide and take his lore.

My fader, if thei mihte spede Mi love, I wolde his bokes rede; And if thei techen to restreigne Mi love, it were an ydel peine To lerne a thing which mai noght be. For lich unto the greene tree, 2680 If that men toke his rote aweie, Riht so myn herte scholde deie, If that mi love be withdrawe. Wherof touchende unto this sawe There is bot only to poursuie Mi love, and ydelschipe eschuie.

Mi goode Sone, soth to seie, If ther be siker eny weie To love, thou hast seid the beste: For who that wolde have al his reste 2690 And do no travail at the nede, It is no resoun that he spede In loves cause forto winne; For he which dar nothing beginne, I not what thing he scholde achieve. Bot overthis thou schalt believe, So as it sit thee wel to knowe, That ther ben othre vices slowe, Whiche unto love don gret lette, If thou thin herte upon hem sette. 2700

Toward the Slowe progenie Ther is yit on of compaignie, And he is cleped Sompnolence, Which doth to Slouthe his reverence, As he which is his Chamberlein, That many an hundrid time hath lein To slepe, whan he scholde wake. He hath with love trewes take, That wake who so wake wile, If he mai couche a doun his bile, 2710 He hath al wowed what him list; That ofte he goth to bedde unkist, And seith that for no Druerie He wol noght leve his sluggardie. For thogh noman it wole allowe, To slepe levere than to wowe Is his manere, and thus on nyhtes, Whan that he seth the lusti knyhtes Revelen, wher these wommen are, Awey he skulketh as an hare, 2720 And goth to bedde and leith him softe, And of his Slouthe he dremeth ofte Hou that he stiketh in the Myr, And hou he sitteth be the fyr And claweth on his bare schanckes, And hou he clymbeth up the banckes And falleth into Slades depe. Bot thanne who so toke kepe, Whanne he is falle in such a drem, Riht as a Schip ayein the Strem, 2730 He routeth with a slepi noise, And brustleth as a monkes froise, Whanne it is throwe into the Panne. And otherwhile sielde whanne That he mai dreme a lusti swevene, Him thenkth as thogh he were in hevene And as the world were holi his: And thanne he spekth of that and this, And makth his exposicion After the disposicion 2740 Of that he wolde, and in such wise He doth to love all his service; I not what thonk he schal deserve. Bot, Sone, if thou wolt love serve, I rede that thou do noght so.

Ha, goode fader, certes no. I hadde levere be mi trowthe, Er I were set on such a slouthe And beere such a slepi snoute, Bothe yhen of myn hed were oute. 2750 For me were betre fulli die, Thanne I of such a slugardie Hadde eny name, god me schilde; For whan mi moder was with childe, And I lay in hire wombe clos, I wolde rathere Atropos, Which is goddesse of alle deth, Anon as I hadde eny breth, Me hadde fro mi Moder cast. Bot now I am nothing agast, 2760 I thonke godd; for Lachesis, Ne Cloto, which hire felawe is, Me schopen no such destine, Whan thei at mi nativite My weerdes setten as thei wolde; Bot thei me schopen that I scholde Eschuie of slep the truandise, So that I hope in such a wise To love forto ben excused, That I no Sompnolence have used. 2770 For certes, fader Genius, Yit into nou it hath be thus, At alle time if it befelle So that I mihte come and duelle In place ther my ladi were, I was noght slow ne slepi there: For thanne I dar wel undertake, That whanne hir list on nyhtes wake In chambre as to carole and daunce, Me thenkth I mai me more avaunce, 2780 If I mai gon upon hir hond, Thanne if I wonne a kinges lond. For whanne I mai hire hand beclippe, With such gladnesse I daunce and skippe, Me thenkth I touche noght the flor; The Ro, which renneth on the Mor, Is thanne noght so lyht as I: So mow ye witen wel forthi, That for the time slep I hate. And whanne it falleth othergate, 2790 So that hire like noght to daunce, Bot on the Dees to caste chaunce Or axe of love som demande, Or elles that hir list comaunde To rede and here of Troilus, Riht as sche wole or so or thus, I am al redi to consente. And if so is that I mai hente Somtime among a good leisir, So as I dar of mi desir 2800 I telle a part; bot whanne I preie, Anon sche bidt me go mi weie And seith it is ferr in the nyht; And I swere it is even liht. Bot as it falleth ate laste, Ther mai no worldes joie laste, So mot I nedes fro hire wende And of my wachche make an ende: And if sche thanne hiede toke, Hou pitousliche on hire I loke, 2810 Whan that I schal my leve take, Hire oghte of mercy forto slake Hire daunger, which seith evere nay.

Bot he seith often, “Have good day,” That loth is forto take his leve: Therfore, while I mai beleve, I tarie forth the nyht along, For it is noght on me along To slep that I so sone go, Til that I mot algate so; 2820 And thanne I bidde godd hire se, And so doun knelende on mi kne I take leve, and if I schal, I kisse hire, and go forth withal. And otherwhile, if that I dore, Er I come fulli to the Dore, I torne ayein and feigne a thing, As thogh I hadde lost a Ring Or somwhat elles, for I wolde Kisse hire eftsones, if I scholde, 2830 Bot selden is that I so spede. And whanne I se that I mot nede Departen, I departe, and thanne With al myn herte I curse and banne That evere slep was mad for yhe; For, as me thenkth, I mihte dryhe Withoute slep to waken evere, So that I scholde noght dissevere Fro hire, in whom is al my liht: And thanne I curse also the nyht 2840 With al the will of mi corage, And seie, “Awey, thou blake ymage, Which of thi derke cloudy face Makst al the worldes lyht deface, And causest unto slep a weie, Be which I mot nou gon aweie Out of mi ladi compaignie. O slepi nyht, I thee defie, And wolde that thou leye in presse With Proserpine the goddesse 2850 And with Pluto the helle king: For til I se the daies spring, I sette slep noght at a risshe.” And with that word I sike and wisshe, And seie, “Ha, whi ne were it day? For yit mi ladi thanne I may Beholde, thogh I do nomore.” And efte I thenke forthermore, To som man hou the niht doth ese, Whan he hath thing that mai him plese 2860 The longe nyhtes be his side, Where as I faile and go beside. Bot slep, I not wherof it serveth, Of which noman his thonk deserveth To gete him love in eny place, Bot is an hindrere of his grace And makth him ded as for a throwe, Riht as a Stok were overthrowe. And so, mi fader, in this wise The slepi nyhtes I despise, 2870 And evere amiddes of mi tale I thenke upon the nyhtingale, Which slepeth noght be weie of kinde For love, in bokes as I finde. Thus ate laste I go to bedde, And yit min herte lith to wedde With hire, wher as I cam fro; Thogh I departe, he wol noght so, Ther is no lock mai schette him oute, Him nedeth noght to gon aboute, 2880 That perce mai the harde wall; Thus is he with hire overall, That be hire lief, or be hire loth, Into hire bedd myn herte goth, And softly takth hire in his arm And fieleth hou that sche is warm, And wissheth that his body were To fiele that he fieleth there. And thus miselven I tormente, Til that the dede slep me hente: 2890 Bot thanne be a thousand score Welmore than I was tofore I am tormented in mi slep, Bot that I dreme is noght of schep; For I ne thenke noght on wulle, Bot I am drecched to the fulle Of love, that I have to kepe, That nou I lawhe and nou I wepe, And nou I lese and nou I winne, And nou I ende and nou beginne. 2900 And otherwhile I dreme and mete That I al one with hire mete And that Danger is left behinde; And thanne in slep such joie I finde, That I ne bede nevere awake. Bot after, whanne I hiede take, And schal arise upon the morwe, Thanne is al torned into sorwe, Noght for the cause I schal arise, Bot for I mette in such a wise, 2910 And ate laste I am bethoght That al is vein and helpeth noght: Bot yit me thenketh be my wille I wolde have leie and slepe stille, To meten evere of such a swevene, For thanne I hadde a slepi hevene.

Mi Sone, and for thou tellest so, A man mai finde of time ago That many a swevene hath be certein, Al be it so, that som men sein 2920 That swevenes ben of no credence. Bot forto schewe in evidence That thei fulofte sothe thinges Betokne, I thenke in my wrytinges To telle a tale therupon, Which fell be olde daies gon.

This finde I write in Poesie: Ceïx the king of Trocinie Hadde Alceone to his wif, Which as hire oghne hertes lif 2930 Him loveth; and he hadde also A brother, which was cleped tho Dedalion, and he per cas Fro kinde of man forschape was Into a Goshauk of liknesse; Wherof the king gret hevynesse Hath take, and thoghte in his corage To gon upon a pelrinage Into a strange regioun, Wher he hath his devocioun 2940 To don his sacrifice and preie, If that he mihte in eny weie Toward the goddes finde grace His brother hele to pourchace, So that he mihte be reformed Of that he hadde be transformed. To this pourpos and to this ende This king is redy forto wende, As he which wolde go be Schipe; And forto don him felaschipe 2950 His wif unto the See him broghte, With al hire herte and him besoghte, That he the time hire wolde sein, Whan that he thoghte come ayein: “Withinne,” he seith, “tuo Monthe day.” And thus in al the haste he may He tok his leve, and forth he seileth Wepende, and sche hirself beweileth, And torneth hom, ther sche cam fro. Bot whan the Monthes were ago, 2960 The whiche he sette of his comynge, And that sche herde no tydinge, Ther was no care forto seche: Wherof the goddes to beseche Tho sche began in many wise, And to Juno hire sacrifise Above alle othre most sche dede, And for hir lord sche hath so bede To wite and knowe hou that he ferde, That Juno the goddesse hire herde, 2970 Anon and upon this matiere Sche bad Yris hir Messagere To Slepes hous that sche schal wende, And bidde him that he make an ende Be swevene and schewen al the cas Unto this ladi, hou it was.

This Yris, fro the hihe stage Which undertake hath the Message, Hire reyny Cope dede upon, The which was wonderli begon 2980 With colours of diverse hewe, An hundred mo than men it knewe; The hevene lich into a bowe Sche bende, and so she cam doun lowe, The god of Slep wher that sche fond. And that was in a strange lond, Which marcheth upon Chymerie: For ther, as seith the Poesie, The god of Slep hath mad his hous, Which of entaille is merveilous. 2990 Under an hell ther is a Cave, Which of the Sonne mai noght have, So that noman mai knowe ariht The point betwen the dai and nyht: Ther is no fyr, ther is no sparke, Ther is no dore, which mai charke, Wherof an yhe scholde unschette, So that inward ther is no lette. And forto speke of that withoute, Ther stant no gret Tree nyh aboute 3000 Wher on ther myhte crowe or pie Alihte, forto clepe or crie: Ther is no cok to crowe day, Ne beste non which noise may The hell, bot al aboute round Ther is growende upon the ground Popi, which berth the sed of slep, With othre herbes suche an hep. A stille water for the nones Rennende upon the smale stones, 3010 Which hihte of Lethes the rivere, Under that hell in such manere Ther is, which yifth gret appetit To slepe. And thus full of delit Slep hath his hous; and of his couche Withinne his chambre if I schal touche, Of hebenus that slepi Tree The bordes al aboute be, And for he scholde slepe softe, Upon a fethrebed alofte 3020 He lith with many a pilwe of doun: The chambre is strowed up and doun With swevenes many thousendfold. Thus cam Yris into this hold, And to the bedd, which is al blak, Sche goth, and ther with Slep sche spak, And in the wise as sche was bede The Message of Juno sche dede. Fulofte hir wordes sche reherceth, Er sche his slepi Eres perceth; 3030 With mochel wo bot ate laste His slombrende yhen he upcaste And seide hir that it schal be do. Wherof among a thousend tho, Withinne his hous that slepi were, In special he ches out there Thre, whiche scholden do this dede: The ferste of hem, so as I rede, Was Morpheus, the whos nature Is forto take the figure 3040 Of what persone that him liketh, Wherof that he fulofte entriketh The lif which slepe schal be nyhte; And Ithecus that other hihte, Which hath the vois of every soun, The chiere and the condicioun Of every lif, what so it is: The thridde suiende after this Is Panthasas, which may transforme Of every thing the rihte forme, 3050 And change it in an other kinde. Upon hem thre, so as I finde, Of swevenes stant al thapparence, Which otherwhile is evidence And otherwhile bot a jape. Bot natheles it is so schape, That Morpheus be nyht al one Appiereth until Alceone In liknesse of hir housebonde Al naked ded upon the stronde, 3060 And hou he dreynte in special These othre tuo it schewen al. The tempeste of the blake cloude, The wode See, the wyndes loude, Al this sche mette, and sih him dyen; Wherof that sche began to crien, Slepende abedde ther sche lay, And with that noise of hire affray Hir wommen sterten up aboute, Whiche of here ladi were in doute, 3070 And axen hire hou that sche ferde; And sche, riht as sche syh and herde, Hir swevene hath told hem everydel. And thei it halsen alle wel And sein it is a tokne of goode; Bot til sche wiste hou that it stode, Sche hath no confort in hire herte, Upon the morwe and up sche sterte, And to the See, wher that sche mette The bodi lay, withoute lette 3080 Sche drowh, and whan that sche cam nyh, Stark ded, hise harmes sprad, sche syh Hire lord flietende upon the wawe. Wherof hire wittes ben withdrawe, And sche, which tok of deth no kepe, Anon forth lepte into the depe And wolde have cawht him in hire arm.

This infortune of double harm The goddes fro the hevene above Behielde, and for the trowthe of love, 3090 Which in this worthi ladi stod, Thei have upon the salte flod Hire dreinte lord and hire also Fro deth to lyve torned so, That thei ben schapen into briddes Swimmende upon the wawe amiddes. And whan sche sih hire lord livende In liknesse of a bridd swimmende, And sche was of the same sort, So as sche mihte do desport, 3100 Upon the joie which sche hadde Hire wynges bothe abrod sche spradde, And him, so as sche mai suffise, Beclipte and keste in such a wise, As sche was whilom wont to do: Hire wynges for hire armes tuo Sche tok, and for hire lippes softe Hire harde bile, and so fulofte Sche fondeth in hire briddes forme, If that sche mihte hirself conforme 3110 To do the plesance of a wif, As sche dede in that other lif: For thogh sche hadde hir pouer lore, Hir will stod as it was tofore, And serveth him so as sche mai. Wherof into this ilke day Togedre upon the See thei wone, Wher many a dowhter and a Sone Thei bringen forth of briddes kinde; And for men scholden take in mynde 3120 This Alceoun the trewe queene, Hire briddes yit, as it is seene, Of Alceoun the name bere.

Lo thus, mi Sone, it mai thee stere Of swevenes forto take kepe, For ofte time a man aslepe Mai se what after schal betide. Forthi it helpeth at som tyde A man to slepe, as it belongeth, Bot slowthe no lif underfongeth 3130 Which is to love appourtenant.

Mi fader, upon covenant I dar wel make this avou, Of all mi lif that into nou, Als fer as I can understonde, Yit tok I nevere Slep on honde, Whan it was time forto wake; For thogh myn yhe it wolde take, Min herte is evere therayein. Bot natheles to speke it plein, 3140 Al this that I have seid you hiere Of my wakinge, as ye mai hiere, It toucheth to mi lady swete; For otherwise, I you behiete, In strange place whanne I go, Me list nothing to wake so. For whan the wommen listen pleie, And I hir se noght in the weie, Of whom I scholde merthe take, Me list noght longe forto wake, 3150 Bot if it be for pure schame, Of that I wolde eschuie a name, That thei ne scholde have cause non To seie, “Ha, lo, wher goth such on, That hath forlore his contenaunce!” And thus among I singe and daunce, And feigne lust ther as non is. For ofte sithe I fiele this; Of thoght, which in mi herte falleth Whanne it is nyht, myn hed appalleth, 3160 And that is for I se hire noght, Which is the wakere of mi thoght: And thus as tymliche as I may, Fulofte whanne it is brod day, I take of all these othre leve And go my weie, and thei beleve, That sen per cas here loves there; And I go forth as noght ne were Unto mi bedd, so that al one I mai ther ligge and sighe and grone 3170 And wisshen al the longe nyht, Til that I se the daies lyht. I not if that be Sompnolence, Bot upon youre conscience, Min holi fader, demeth ye.

My Sone, I am wel paid with thee, Of Slep that thou the Sluggardie Be nyhte in loves compaignie Eschuied hast, and do thi peine So that thi love thar noght pleine: 3180 For love upon his lust wakende Is evere, and wolde that non ende Were of the longe nyhtes set. Wherof that thou be war the bet, To telle a tale I am bethoght, Hou love and Slep acorden noght.

For love who that list to wake Be nyhte, he mai ensample take Of Cephalus, whan that he lay With Aurora that swete may 3190 In armes all the longe nyht. Bot whanne it drogh toward the liht, That he withinne his herte sih The dai which was amorwe nyh, Anon unto the Sonne he preide For lust of love, and thus he seide:

“O Phebus, which the daies liht Governest, til that it be nyht, And gladest every creature After the lawe of thi nature,— 3200 Bot natheles ther is a thing, Which onli to the knouleching Belongeth as in privete To love and to his duete, Which asketh noght to ben apert, Bot in cilence and in covert Desireth forto be beschaded: And thus whan that thi liht is faded And Vesper scheweth him alofte, And that the nyht is long and softe, 3210 Under the cloudes derke and stille Thanne hath this thing most of his wille. Forthi unto thi myhtes hyhe, As thou which art the daies yhe, Of love and myht no conseil hyde, Upon this derke nyhtes tyde With al myn herte I thee beseche That I plesance myhte seche With hire which lith in min armes. Withdrawgh the Banere of thin Armes, 3220 And let thi lyhtes ben unborn, And in the Signe of Capricorn, The hous appropred to Satorne, I preie that thou wolt sojorne, Wher ben the nihtes derke and longe: For I mi love have underfonge, Which lith hier be mi syde naked, As sche which wolde ben awaked, And me lest nothing forto slepe. So were it good to take kepe 3230 Nou at this nede of mi preiere, And that the like forto stiere Thi fyri Carte, and so ordeigne, That thou thi swifte hors restreigne Lowe under Erthe in Occident, That thei towardes Orient Be Cercle go the longe weie.

And ek to thee, Diane, I preie, Which cleped art of thi noblesse The nyhtes Mone and the goddesse, 3240 That thou to me be gracious: And in Cancro thin oghne hous Ayein Phebus in opposit Stond al this time, and of delit Behold Venus with a glad yhe. For thanne upon Astronomie Of due constellacion Thou makst prolificacion, And dost that children ben begete: Which grace if that I mihte gete, 3250 With al myn herte I wolde serve Be nyhte, and thi vigile observe.”

Lo, thus this lusti Cephalus Preide unto Phebe and to Phebus The nyht in lengthe forto drawe, So that he mihte do the lawe In thilke point of loves heste, Which cleped is the nyhtes feste, Withoute Slep of sluggardie; Which Venus out of compaignie 3260 Hath put awey, as thilke same, Which lustles ferr from alle game In chambre doth fulofte wo Abedde, whanne it falleth so That love scholde ben awaited. But Slowthe, which is evele affaited, With Slep hath mad his retenue, That what thing is to love due, Of all his dette he paieth non: He wot noght how the nyht is gon 3270 Ne hou the day is come aboute, Bot onli forto slepe and route Til hyh midday, that he arise. Bot Cephalus dede otherwise, As thou, my Sone, hast herd above.

Mi fader, who that hath his love Abedde naked be his syde, And wolde thanne hise yhen hyde With Slep, I not what man is he: Bot certes as touchende of me, 3280 That fell me nevere yit er this. Bot otherwhile, whan so is That I mai cacche Slep on honde Liggende al one, thanne I fonde To dreme a merie swevene er day; And if so falle that I may Mi thought with such a swevene plese, Me thenkth I am somdiel in ese, For I non other confort have. So nedeth noght that I schal crave 3290 The Sonnes Carte forto tarie, Ne yit the Mone, that sche carie Hire cours along upon the hevene, For I am noght the more in evene Towardes love in no degree: Bot in mi slep yit thanne I se Somwhat in swevene of that me liketh, Which afterward min herte entriketh, Whan that I finde it otherwise. So wot I noght of what servise 3300 That Slep to mannes ese doth.

Mi Sone, certes thou seist soth, Bot only that it helpeth kinde Somtyme, in Phisique as I finde, Whan it is take be mesure: Bot he which can no Slep mesure Upon the reule as it belongeth, Fulofte of sodein chance he fongeth Such infortune that him grieveth. Bot who these olde bokes lieveth, 3310 Of Sompnolence hou it is write, Ther may a man the sothe wite, If that he wolde ensample take, That otherwhile is good to wake: Wherof a tale in Poesie I thenke forto specefie.

Ovide telleth in his sawes, How Jupiter be olde dawes Lay be a Mayde, which Yo Was cleped, wherof that Juno 3320 His wif was wroth, and the goddesse Of Yo torneth the liknesse Into a cow, to gon theroute The large fieldes al aboute And gete hire mete upon the griene. And therupon this hyhe queene Betok hire Argus forto kepe, For he was selden wont to slepe, And yit he hadde an hundred yhen, And alle alyche wel thei syhen. 3330 Now herkne hou that he was beguiled. Mercurie, which was al affiled This Cow to stele, he cam desguised, And hadde a Pipe wel devised Upon the notes of Musiqe, Wherof he mihte hise Eres like. And over that he hadde affaited Hise lusti tales, and awaited His time; and thus into the field He cam, where Argus he behield 3340 With Yo, which beside him wente. With that his Pype on honde he hente, And gan to pipe in his manere Thing which was slepi forto hiere; And in his pipinge evere among He tolde him such a lusti song, That he the fol hath broght aslepe. Ther was non yhe mihte kepe His hed, the which Mercurie of smot, And forth withal anon fot hot 3350 He stal the Cow which Argus kepte, And al this fell for that he slepte. Ensample it was to manye mo, That mochel Slep doth ofte wo, Whan it is time forto wake: For if a man this vice take, In Sompnolence and him delite, Men scholde upon his Dore wryte His epitaphe, as on his grave; For he to spille and noght to save 3360 Is schape, as thogh he were ded.

Forthi, mi Sone, hold up thin hed, And let no Slep thin yhe englue, Bot whanne it is to resoun due.

Mi fader, as touchende of this, Riht so as I you tolde it is, That ofte abedde, whanne I scholde, I mai noght slepe, thogh I wolde; For love is evere faste byme, Which takth no hiede of due time. 3370 For whanne I schal myn yhen close, Anon min herte he wole oppose And holde his Scole in such a wise, Til it be day that I arise, That selde it is whan that I slepe. And thus fro Sompnolence I kepe Min yhe: and forthi if ther be Oght elles more in this degre, Now axeth forth.

Mi Sone, yis: For Slowthe, which as Moder is 3380 The forthdrawere and the Norrice To man of many a dredful vice, Hath yit an other laste of alle, Which many a man hath mad to falle, Wher that he mihte nevere arise; Wherof for thou thee schalt avise, Er thou so with thiself misfare, What vice it is I wol declare.

Whan Slowthe hath don al that he may To dryve forth the longe day, 3390 Til it be come to the nede, Thanne ate laste upon the dede He loketh hou his time is lore, And is so wo begon therfore, That he withinne his thoght conceiveth Tristesce, and so himself deceiveth, That he wanhope bringeth inne, Wher is no confort to beginne, Bot every joie him is deslaied: So that withinne his herte affraied 3400 A thousend time with o breth Wepende he wissheth after deth, Whan he fortune fint adverse. For thanne he wole his hap reherce, As thogh his world were al forlore, And seith, “Helas, that I was bore! Hou schal I live? hou schal I do? For nou fortune is thus mi fo, I wot wel god me wol noght helpe. What scholde I thanne of joies yelpe, 3410 Whan ther no bote is of mi care? So overcast is my welfare, That I am schapen al to strif. Helas, that I nere of this lif, Er I be fulliche overtake!” And thus he wol his sorwe make, As god him mihte noght availe: Bot yit ne wol he noght travaile To helpe himself at such a nede, Bot slowtheth under such a drede, 3420 Which is affermed in his herte, Riht as he mihte noght asterte The worldes wo which he is inne.

Also whan he is falle in Sinne, Him thenkth he is so ferr coupable, That god wol noght be merciable So gret a Sinne to foryive; And thus he leeveth to be schrive. And if a man in thilke throwe Wolde him consaile, he wol noght knowe 3430 The sothe, thogh a man it finde: For Tristesce is of such a kinde, That forto meintiene his folie, He hath with him Obstinacie, Which is withinne of such a Slouthe, That he forsaketh alle trouthe, And wole unto no reson bowe; And yit ne can he noght avowe His oghne skile bot of hed: Thus dwyneth he, til he be ded, 3440 In hindringe of his oghne astat. For where a man is obstinat, Wanhope folweth ate laste, Which mai noght after longe laste, Till Slouthe make of him an ende. Bot god wot whider he schal wende.

Mi Sone, and riht in such manere Ther be lovers of hevy chiere, That sorwen mor than it is ned, Whan thei be taried of here sped 3450 And conne noght hemselven rede, Bot lesen hope forto spede And stinten love to poursewe; And thus thei faden hyde and hewe, And lustles in here hertes waxe. Hierof it is that I wolde axe, If thou, mi Sone, art on of tho.

Ha, goode fader, it is so, Outake a point, I am beknowe; For elles I am overthrowe 3460 In al that evere ye have seid. Mi sorwe is everemore unteid, And secheth overal my veines; Bot forto conseile of mi peines, I can no bote do therto; And thus withouten hope I go, So that mi wittes ben empeired, And I, as who seith, am despeired To winne love of thilke swete, Withoute whom, I you behiete, 3470 Min herte, that is so bestad, Riht inly nevere mai be glad. For be my trouthe I schal noght lie, Of pure sorwe, which I drye For that sche seith sche wol me noght, With drecchinge of myn oghne thoght In such a wanhope I am falle, That I ne can unethes calle, As forto speke of eny grace, Mi ladi merci to pourchace. 3480 Bot yit I seie noght for this That al in mi defalte it is; For I cam nevere yit in stede, Whan time was, that I my bede Ne seide, and as I dorste tolde: Bot nevere fond I that sche wolde, For oght sche knew of min entente, To speke a goodly word assente. And natheles this dar I seie, That if a sinful wolde preie 3490 To god of his foryivenesse With half so gret a besinesse As I have do to my ladi, In lacke of askinge of merci He scholde nevere come in Helle. And thus I mai you sothli telle, Save only that I crie and bidde, I am in Tristesce al amidde And fulfild of Desesperance: And therof yif me mi penance, 3500 Min holi fader, as you liketh.

Mi Sone, of that thin herte siketh With sorwe, miht thou noght amende, Til love his grace wol thee sende, For thou thin oghne cause empeirest What time as thou thiself despeirest. I not what other thing availeth, Of hope whan the herte faileth, For such a Sor is incurable, And ek the goddes ben vengable: 3510 And that a man mai riht wel frede, These olde bokes who so rede, Of thing which hath befalle er this: Now hier of what ensample it is.

Whilom be olde daies fer Of Mese was the king Theucer, Which hadde a kniht to Sone, Iphis: Of love and he so maistred is, That he hath set al his corage, As to reguard of his lignage, 3520 Upon a Maide of lou astat. Bot thogh he were a potestat Of worldes good, he was soubgit To love, and put in such a plit, That he excedeth the mesure Of reson, that himself assure He can noght; for the more he preide, The lass love on him sche leide. He was with love unwys constreigned, And sche with resoun was restreigned: 3530 The lustes of his herte he suieth, And sche for dred schame eschuieth, And as sche scholde, tok good hiede To save and kepe hir wommanhiede. And thus the thing stod in debat Betwen his lust and hire astat: He yaf, he sende, he spak be mouthe, Bot yit for oght that evere he couthe Unto his sped he fond no weie, So that he caste his hope aweie, 3540 Withinne his herte and gan despeire Fro dai to dai, and so empeire, That he hath lost al his delit Of lust, of Slep, of Appetit, That he thurgh strengthe of love lasseth His wit, and resoun overpasseth. As he which of his lif ne rowhte, His deth upon himself he sowhte, So that be nyhte his weie he nam, Ther wiste non wher he becam; 3550 The nyht was derk, ther schon no Mone, Tofore the gates he cam sone, Wher that this yonge Maiden was And with this wofull word, “Helas!” Hise dedli pleintes he began So stille that ther was noman It herde, and thanne he seide thus: “O thou Cupide, o thou Venus, Fortuned be whos ordinaunce Of love is every mannes chaunce, 3560 Ye knowen al min hole herte, That I ne mai your hond asterte; On you is evere that I crie, And yit you deigneth noght to plie, Ne toward me youre Ere encline. Thus for I se no medicine To make an ende of mi querele, My deth schal be in stede of hele.

Ha, thou mi wofull ladi diere, Which duellest with thi fader hiere 3570 And slepest in thi bedd at ese, Thou wost nothing of my desese. Hou thou and I be now unmete. Ha lord, what swevene schalt thou mete, What dremes hast thou nou on honde? Thou slepest there, and I hier stonde. Thogh I no deth to the deserve, Hier schal I for thi love sterve, Hier schal a kinges Sone dye For love and for no felonie; 3580 Wher thou therof have joie or sorwe, Hier schalt thou se me ded tomorwe. O herte hard aboven alle, This deth, which schal to me befalle For that thou wolt noght do me grace, Yit schal be told in many a place, Hou I am ded for love and trouthe In thi defalte and in thi slouthe: Thi Daunger schal to manye mo Ensample be for everemo, 3590 Whan thei my wofull deth recorde.” And with that word he tok a Corde, With which upon the gate tre He hyng himself, that was pite.

The morwe cam, the nyht is gon, Men comen out and syhe anon Wher that this yonge lord was ded: Ther was an hous withoute red, For noman knew the cause why; Ther was wepinge and ther was cry. 3600 This Maiden, whan that sche it herde, And sih this thing hou it misferde, Anon sche wiste what it mente, And al the cause hou it wente To al the world sche tolde it oute, And preith to hem that were aboute To take of hire the vengance, For sche was cause of thilke chaunce, Why that this kinges Sone is split. Sche takth upon hirself the gilt, 3610 And is al redi to the peine Which eny man hir wole ordeigne: And bot if eny other wolde, Sche seith that sche hirselve scholde Do wreche with hire oghne hond, Thurghout the world in every lond That every lif therof schal speke, Hou sche hirself i scholde wreke. Sche wepth, sche crith, sche swouneth ofte, Sche caste hire yhen up alofte 3620 And seide among ful pitously: “A godd, thou wost wel it am I, For whom Iphis is thus besein: Ordeine so, that men mai sein A thousend wynter after this, Hou such a Maiden dede amis, And as I dede, do to me: For I ne dede no pite To him, which for mi love is lore, Do no pite to me therfore.” 3630 And with this word sche fell to grounde Aswoune, and ther sche lay a stounde. The goddes, whiche hir pleigntes herde And syhe hou wofully sche ferde, Hire lif thei toke awey anon, And schopen hire into a Ston After the forme of hire ymage Of bodi bothe and of visage. And for the merveile of this thing Unto the place cam the king 3640 And ek the queene and manye mo; And whan thei wisten it was so, As I have told it heir above, Hou that Iphis was ded for love, Of that he hadde be refused, Thei hielden alle men excused And wondren upon the vengance. And forto kepe in remembrance, This faire ymage mayden liche With compaignie noble and riche 3650 With torche and gret sollempnite. To Salamyne the Cite Thei lede, and carie forth withal The dede corps, and sein it schal Beside thilke ymage have His sepulture and be begrave: This corps and this ymage thus Into the Cite to Venus, Wher that goddesse hire temple hadde, Togedre bothe tuo thei ladde. 3660 This ilke ymage as for miracle Was set upon an hyh pinacle, That alle men it mihte knowe, And under tht thei maden lowe A tumbe riche for the nones Of marbre and ek of jaspre stones, Wherin this Iphis was beloken, That evermor it schal be spoken. And for men schal the sothe wite, Thei have here epitaphe write, 3670 As thing which scholde abide stable: The lettres graven in a table Of marbre were and seiden this: “Hier lith, which slowh himself, Iphis, For love of Araxarathen: And in ensample of tho wommen, That soffren men to deie so, Hire forme a man mai sen also, Hou it is torned fleissh and bon Into the figure of a Ston: 3680 He was to neysshe and sche to hard. Be war forthi hierafterward; Ye men and wommen bothe tuo, Ensampleth you of that was tho:

Lo thus, mi Sone, as I thee seie, It grieveth be diverse weie In desepeir a man to falle, Which is the laste branche of alle Of Slouthe, as thou hast herd devise. Wherof that thou thiself avise 3690 Good is, er that thou be deceived, Wher that the grace of hope is weyved.

Mi fader, hou so that it stonde, Now have I pleinly understonde Of Slouthes court the proprete, Wherof touchende in my degre For evere I thenke to be war. Bot overthis, so as I dar, With al min herte I you beseche, That ye me wolde enforme and teche 3700 What ther is more of youre aprise In love als wel as otherwise, So that I mai me clene schryve.

Mi Sone, whyl thou art alyve And hast also thi fulle mynde, Among the vices whiche I finde Ther is yit on such of the sevene, Which al this world hath set unevene And causeth manye thinges wronge, Where he the cause hath underfonge: 3710 Wherof hierafter thou schalt hiere The forme bothe and the matiere.

Explicit Liber Quartus.

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 Of man, of hors, of Schep, of Oxe, 10 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 And hyhe walles forto kepe 20 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; For as these olde bokes telle, 30 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. So is he povere, and everemore 40 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, Who so that reson understod, 50 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.

Mi fader, as it semeth, no; 60 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, It scholde nevere be foryete, 70 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, If I hire hadde, I wolde hire kepe, 80 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. I sette noght of other good; 90 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 Hou thaverous hath yit som weie, 100 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: And in this wise I me travaile; 110 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: Bot, so as every bok recordeth, 120 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; And al is to him bot a charge, 130 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, As telleth ous the clerk Ovide. 140

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, So that upon his drunkeschipe 150 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, And up a couche fro the grounde 160 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, Him thenkth it were a vilenie, 170 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. This king was glad, and stille stod, 180 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 Delit, thogh I delit mai have, 190 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; Ther is no certain forto winne, 200 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 Of al the world withinne his wones 210 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; Bot pleinly forto gete him reste 220 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 To gete him gold withoute faile. 230 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, And long to schort and schort to long; 240 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 Which cleped is ydropesie 250 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; The more he hath of worldes good, 260 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 Become gold, and therupon 270 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 To go, bot hunger ate laste 280 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. And he with that began to crie, 290 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, In which as clene as evere he myhte 300 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, The flod his colour gan to change, 310 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, And seith that mete and cloth sufficeth. 320 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, And that thei scholde also forthdrawe 330 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, Which nou is closed overal; 340 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; For it mai neveremor be full, 350 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, Yif him som good, for this I rede 360 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, Which serveth al for Avarice: 370 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, The fruit withdrawth him ate nede, 380 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, And yit ther comth non in his mouth! 390 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, Wherof thou myht thiself amende 400 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, Of Avarice and the seknesse 410 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. For hou so that the body reste, 420 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, If thou thiself wolt wel avise, 430 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, To stele awey that hem is lief; 440 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, That ye me wolde enforme and teche 450 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, The which is cleped Jelousie: 460 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: For thanne he makth him tote and pryhe, 470 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, His yhe is ther at every houre. 480 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, And al upon diversete. 490 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, Sche scholde thanne afore his ije 500 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.

Of alle wommen be he waried, 510 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, That sche ne mai nowhider gon, 520 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, Til deth of him have mad an ende. 530 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, Whan he lith on his pilwes softe. 540 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 Of Jelousie, he torneth fro 550 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, Whan that alle othre sche forsok 560 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, Sche schal be wel mor harde schake; 570 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, Who so these olde bokes troweth, 580 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, Which caused is of fantasie, 590 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 Thei stonde bothe, as semeth me. 600 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 As wel of love as of monoie. 610

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, As men mai finde be the lore 620 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.

My goode Sone, at thi preiere 630 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. Among the goddes alle above 640 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 The faire Venus to his wif. 650 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; And sche, which hadde a good insihte 660 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. Bot thilke unkynde Jelousie, 670 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. And he with craft al redy maked 680 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 Of hem that loves frendes were; 690 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, If such a chaunce hem overtake: 700 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, Bot feigne, as thogh he wiste it noght: 710 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; And if a man him wolde avise 720 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, Hou such thing to the heveneward 730 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, That suche goddes ben believed: 740 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. Thei of Caldee as in this cas 750 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 Thei hadden a believe tho; 760 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, That be hem lieve or be hem lothe, 770 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, He doth to gret a forsfaiture. 780 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 The feith is fals, hou so it falle; 790 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, And the goddesse in hir degre 800 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, Whan he was ripe of age ynowh. 810 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, Which noman knew tofore there. 820 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 To hire clepe, and here offringe 830 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, As who seith, token al to gesses 840 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, Hise oghne children he to plihte, 850 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. And of Saturne also I finde 860 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.

For Jupiter was the secounde, 870 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, Saturne and Jupiter also, 880 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, Which in hire ordre was professed, 890 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 Remus and Romulus begat, 900 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, Thurgh hem he tok his name so, 910 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, Ther was with him no vertu elles, 920 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; Wherof among hise sleyhtes alle 930 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. Of Sorcerie he couthe ynowh, 940 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 A god, which was unto hem lief, 950 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, And he non other vertu couthe 960 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 He hield be weie of covenant 970 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. Lo nou, hou this believe is blynd! 980

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 He wan, that every man hath doute 990 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 With hem that so believe amis. 1000 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, Enclosed with the tres of Pigne, 1010 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. And forth withal yit natheles 1020 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 Was which the melodie fond 1030 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, The fot hath torned to the hed, 1040 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, He sende, in bokes as I finde: 1050 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 A godd in thilke time as thus. 1060 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 Ther was destruid a pestilence, 1070 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. And thei upon him thanne leide 1080 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, He dede with hise oghne hondes 1090 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, For in a rage himself he brende; 1100 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, Be Cochitum and Acheron, 1110 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 Unto the goddes let do make 1120 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, Whos names thou schalt hiere anon, 1130 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 Fro when sche cam and what sche is, 1140 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, Sibeles thanne was also 1150 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, Sibele his wif began to hate 1160 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 Was king, a wif unto him mete 1170 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 Of Regnes bothe and of richesse: 1180 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, To whom the Greks obeie and serve: 1190 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, Wher a Norrice hir kepte and dihte. 1200 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, Which in his time was geant, 1210 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. Now loke, hou they be forto blame. 1220

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 And of the grapes make wynes; 1230 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 Hire Sone goth amonges ous 1240 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 Diane his dowhter he begat 1250 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, Sche tok non hiede of mariage, 1260 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: Wherof the Cronique of this fable 1270 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, Hire moder in that ilke while 1280 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 That Pluto cam that weie ryde, 1290 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 Hou he was cleped god of helle, 1300 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 Thei made a temple forth withal, 1310 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, Whiche mihten noght hemself socoure, 1320 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: Oreades thei seiden tho 1330 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, So as the happes scholden falle, 1340 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, Nereïdes 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, In every place wher thei duelle 1350 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, Which was to hem dampnacion, 1360 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 To long it were forto rime. 1370 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, That ye me wolden now declare 1380 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 Of love, and fond to lust a weie; 1390 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: Anchises begat Eneas 1400 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, And he was also lecherous: 1410 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, For he his moder dorste love. 1420 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. Sche was the ferste also which tolde 1430 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; Wherof that sche the name wan, 1440 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, That thei ne token in that cas 1450 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.

Minerve for the hed thei soghten, 1460 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, Him for the throte thei beseke, 1470 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 That he adresce the corage. 1480

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, Which of the corn yaf hire encress 1490 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, Of suche as myhte hem noght availe; 1500 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, To morwe upon his majeste 1510 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, Petornius therof hath write 1520 And ek Nigargorus also; And thei afferme and write so, That Promotheus 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, That he for sorwe, which he tok 1530 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, Whan that they comen thilke weie. 1540

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 After his fader evene liche; 1550 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 Was, whan the king of Grece Apis 1560 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, Among the wondres that befelle, 1570 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, Liht of his hors and in he goth, 1580 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 And couthen noght the trouthe finde. 1590

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 Hath chose of the lignages tuelve, 1600 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 Noë 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, Which evere hath be to god unkinde: 1610 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. And thus cam forth the grete errour, 1620 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, Hou only that men scholde obeie 1630 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 Unto the mihti god above 1640 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. On Habraham the ground he leith, 1650 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 Moises To make the deliverance; And for his poeple gret vengance He tok, which is to hiere a wonder. The king was slain, the lond put under, 1660 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, A firy Piler hem alyhte. 1670 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, That man and beste hath drunke his fille: 1680 And afterward he yaf the lawe To Moises, 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 Josuë The Marches upon such degre Departen, after the lignage That ech of hem as Heritage 1690 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, The matiere is so general: 1700 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, Ayein the god brak his defence 1710 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, As men that wolden noght be spedd 1720 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.

And thus the feith is come aboute, 1730 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, Whan he sih time, ayein he boghte, 1740 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, Which Adam whilom broghte ous inne, 1750 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, Whan he which is the welle of helthe, 1760 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, Which schal withouten ende laste. 1770 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, Of which Crist lord is and felawe. 1780

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, That what man clepeth to Jhesu 1790 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, If we the goode dedes werche; 1800 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, Riht so this newe tapinage 1810 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. Bot if thou wolt live out of fere, 1820 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, Upon the which no fruit is sene. 1830

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. Bot Thoas at the same throwe, 1840 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 Excuse mihte the Prelatz, 1850 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, Bot nou our feerfull prelat seith, 1860 “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, The worldes wawe hath welnyh dreynt 1870 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, Which nou is come forto duelle, 1880 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, The poeple is stranged to the love 1890 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.

Bot who that wolde ensample take, 1900 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 Of Ynde, and Poul the routes grete 1910 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, Which takth non hiede of vein honour.” 1920 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, The which his lordes besant hedde 1930 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 And stonde upon the fleisshes wille. 1940 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. Bot elles we ben swifte ynowh 1950 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.

Mi fader, this matiere is bete 1960 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, So that thou schalt hem understonde. 1970

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 To Avarice, and bringth it inne. 1980 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, The smale path, the large Strete, 1990 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, Riht so is Covoitise afaited 2000 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; For thanne he takth non other hiede, 2010 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 Fro him that wol no riht allowe; 2020 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, Hierafterward thou schalt it hiere. 2030

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, With al here ordinance there, 2040 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. Cartage sih the stronge astat 2050 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, Wherof the world is yit merveiled 2060 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, That he was evere desirous 2070 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, To Rome and thus these philisophres 2080 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 Thei scholden seme as thei were olde. 2090 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 And hem be sondri dremes lereth 2100 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 Hem grante, and he assenteth wel; 2110 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, And therupon anon he bad 2120 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 Upon his swevene and undertok. 2130 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, Which, as thei seiden, was unmete 2140 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, That unto alle hise hors at ones 2150 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, So that the Mirour be himselve 2160 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; Til it befell upon a nyht 2170 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, And so forth, whil the nyht was derk, 2180 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, For every lond, to Romeward 2190 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, Whan he hem fond out of arai, 2200 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, The which after the covoitise 2210 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: And with gold, which thei hadden tho 2220 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 Than Covoitise aboute a king: 2230 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 The Hervest, than thei gredily 2240 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, On is mad povere, an other riche, 2250 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, Hou every man mot take his chance 2260 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: And hou in olde daies there 2270 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; And some also ben of the route 2280 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, He schop therfore an evidence 2290 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, Bot noman wot why thei be wroght, 2300 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; That other cofre of straw and mull 2310 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, The whiche ayein him grucche so, 2320 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, The sothe schal be proved nou, 2330 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; For of that on I undertake 2340 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, That no defalte schal be myn.” 2350 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, And seith that thei upon this thing, 2360 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. The king, which wolde his honour save, 2370 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 Anon that other cofre undede, 2380 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 And mercy of here king beseche. 2390

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, Bot, “He is riche and wel bego, 2400 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 Of florins al that mai withinne 2410 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 That other, which his fela tok. 2420 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, And I mot duelle stille povere.” 2430

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, Whiche evere pute hemself in press 2440 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, Thou schalt noght have o diel the more, 2450 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, And rouneth tales in hire Ere, 2460 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, Som on, for sche is noble of kin, 2470 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, Som on, for sche hath noght ben used, 2480 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, But al is on, riht as him semeth; 2490 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?

Nai, fader, such love I despise, 2500 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, The lawe was noght set so streite: 2510 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, Ther wol thei al here love affiche; 2520 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, For after that sche hath richesse, 2530 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, Which was exiled for Creusa, 2540 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, Whan sche for love of Hector cam 2550 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 Mi love is nouther mor ne lesse. 2560 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, That couthe Skile of a womman. 2570 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, And wol non other love profre: 2580 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, And al that to good governance 2590 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 Be lich hire in comparisoun: 2600 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, Which with hire chiere can deserve 2610 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; Bot o thing wolde I wel ye wiste, 2620 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, He schal wel finde his coveitise 2630 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 Such love mai noght longe stonde. 2640 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 Was yit noght falle in his corage 2650 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, He scholde with a womman dele, 2660 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, He tok, and tolde him everydel, 2670 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.

The Steward seide he wolde assaie: 2680 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 Hir fader was, and hire fond 2690 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 Sih that his lord mai noght asterte 2700 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, So that sechende his oghne schame 2710 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, And yive it where that he wolde, 2720 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 He tok, and seide hou thilke nyht 2730 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 In what thing that he bidde wile 2740 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, Wherof sche was so sore adrad 2750 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, The Steward tok his leve and goth 2760 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; And thus this king his joie ladde, 2770 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.” The king his tale wol noght hiere, 2780 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, Til that it was hih Sonne lyht; 2790 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, Welnyh out of his wit he ferde, 2800 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, After this day if I thee take, 2810 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! Bot natheles sche hadde a levere; 2820 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. Bot for al that a man mai finde 2830 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, For good mai ofte time save 2840 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, If I hire hadde, it were ynowh, 2850 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 Hou Coveitise hath yit on honde 2860 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, That other schal the thing forswere, 2870 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; For thei kepe evere o maner forme, 2880 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 Upon a bok, and swere and sein 2890 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, He is no lengere forto lieve. 2900 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; So that with lesinge is begunne 2910 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, Thou miht thin oghne conscience 2920 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 Unto mi word, bot acordable. 2930 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 To eny wiht, or me bewreie 2940 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, As ye have herd, and natheles 2950 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 In a Cronique write I finde. 2960

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. Forthi, so as the bokes sein, 2970 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.

Nou schalt thou hiere a wonder wyle: 2980 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, Hou so it afterward befalle, 2990 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 As to a yong ladi belongeth 3000 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. And in such wise as sche him saide, 3010 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 And sen his childly manere eke, 3020 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; And natheles ful buxomly 3030 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, As he that wot noght hou it ferde 3040 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 Deïdamie, His oghne dowhter, the eldeste, The faireste and the comelieste Of alle hise doghtres whiche he hadde.

Lo, thus Thetis the cause ladde, 3050 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 Deïdamie he hath be nyhte. Wher kinde wole himselve rihte, After the Philosophres sein, Ther mai no wiht be therayein: 3060 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.

For it befell that ilke throwe 3070 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; And ate laste among the grete 3080 Thei fellen unto this acord, That Protheus, 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, His studie sette upon this werk. 3090 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 Upon this point to Lichomede 3100 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, Which burned was as Selver bryht, 3110 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, Til Ulixes the Marche knew, 3120 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, Bot undernethe he was bethoght 3130 In what manere he mihte aspie Achilles fro Deïdamie 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; And for the strange mennes sake, 3140 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 Thei couden wite which was he, 3150 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,— And every thing in his degre 3160 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, The swerd, the hauberk and the Schield, 3170 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; Anon, and made no delay, 3180 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; Bot that he was so oversein, 3190 The wonder overgoth his wit. For in Cronique is write yit Thing which schal nevere be foryete, Hou that Achilles hath begete Pirrus upon Deïdamie, Wherof cam out the tricherie Of Falswitnesse, whan thei saide Hou that Achilles was a Maide. Bot that was nothing sene tho, For he is to the Siege go 3200 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, Deïdamie hath so bejaped, I not hou it schal ben ascaped With tho wommen whos innocence Is nou alday thurgh such credence 3210 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 The trouthe and the matiere expresse, 3220 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, I wolde preie you therfore, 3230 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, Thei finde it fals an other day: 3240 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 Peleüs He hihte; bot it fell him thus, 3250 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 Was named and the worthieste, 3260 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, As tho was in that yle there. 3270 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, Bot of his knyhthod undertake 3280 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 Peleüs his Em the king. And he wel paid was of that thing; 3290 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, Thei tok here leve, and forth thei fare 3300 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: Bot that is noght to mi matiere. 3310 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 Who weren ther and what thei wolden. 3320 Oëtes, 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, So fer the king cam on his gate 3330 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, And Jason tolde him tho tidinges, 3340 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 Fortune stant in aventure, 3350 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. Forthi he dredde him of his harmes, 3360 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. And Jason, which good hiede nam, 3370 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, And thoghte hou nevere creature 3380 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; Here hertes bothe of on acord 3390 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, Til nyht was come, and tho thei wente, 3400 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, Som time yee, som time nay, 3410 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, And thus to him good herte he nom. 3420

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, Sche moste thanne algate faile 3430 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 To speke, and he besoughte hir grace. 3440 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 To love, of al the remenant 3450 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 Such on that scholde him prively 3460 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, He tok to conseil Hercules, 3470 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; And sche with simple chiere and meke, 3480 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, Thei scholde nevere parte atwinne, 3490 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. And thanne of leisir sche him tolde, 3500 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, So that thei setten al on blase 3510 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; And therupon he mot as blyve 3520 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 Wel armed up at alle rihtes. 3530 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, That he ne moste algates deie. 3540 “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, That mai youre lif and honour save.” 3550 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 Mad al of gold and of Perrie, 3560 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, Which hath that ring upon his hond: 3570 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, Which al be charme and be conjure 3580 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, Thre sithes toward orient; 3590 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. Forthi sche tauhte him hou he schal 3600 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 Of tho tweie Oxen that fyr blowen, 3610 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, Til he the knyhtes se arise, 3620 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 The flees of gold he scholde sese. 3630 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, Sche tok him in hire armes tuo, 3640 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, And thanne Jason hire besoghte, 3650 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.”

Bot for he wolde kepe hir name, 3660 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. And thanne he gan to sighe sore 3670 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, He tolde him many a dredful sawe, 3680 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.

Whan he cam to that yle there, 3690 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. Bot erst he hadde sorwe ynowh, 3700 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, Ther mihte nothing go therin; 3710 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, And sette his Oxen in a plouh, 3720 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, And yaf thonk to the goddes alle. 3730 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, The kniht which hath mi maidenhiede!” 3740 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, Sche wolde have flowe unto him tho 3750 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; And as thei loken up and doun, 3760 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, For it was nevere of mannes miht 3770 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, And forth with hem the Flees thei broghte, 3780 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, Bot schame tornede hire agayn; 3790 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, And sche for joie hire Maide kiste. 3800 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, And goth him forth al merie and glad 3810 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, Was non so glad of alle as sche. 3820 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 That al the world ne mihte winne: 3830 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, Bot non so likinge as the word 3840 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: For love is everemore in doute, 3850 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, Jason, that wolde his time kepe, 3860 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? Hem list ech other forto plese, 3870 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, And whanne it fell towardes prime, 3880 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, And lengere woll he noght beleve; 3890 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 Awey sche stal and fond no let, 3900 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. Ther was no word bot Out, Allas! 3910 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: Anon thei weren ate See, 3920 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, Thei maden joie yonge and olde. 3930 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, And olde Eson gret joie made 3940 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: And sche, that was toward him trewe, 3950 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, That no wyht bot hirself it wiste, 3960 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, And there a while sche withstod. 3970 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 Sche preide, and ek hield up hir hond 3980 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: And tho sche gan hir hed doun bowe, 3990 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, Sche pulleth up som be the rote, 4000 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 Spercheïdos, To hem sche wente and ther sche nom Bothe of the water and the fom, The sond and ek the smale stones, Whiche as sche ches out for the nones, 4010 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, With gret travaile and with gret pyne, 4020 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 And mihte of noman be desclosed. 4030 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, Of herbes ben noght betre tueine, 4040 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 Sche gan to make hir sacrifice, 4050 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, Awei sche bad alle othre go 4060 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, And him upon hire herbes caste. 4070 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: Ther was no beste which goth oute 4080 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, And thries sche began to rase 4090 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, Somtime unto the Laverock, 4100 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, That passeth over manneskinde. 4110 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, Of jus, of water and of blod, 4120 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, And sche to builen caste hem in; 4130 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 Of thinges that sche hadde tho, 4140 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, Where as the drope falle was, 4150 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 And sek and trouble and fieble and cold. 4160 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 Lich unto twenty wynter Age; 4170 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, And after that fro kiththe and kinne 4180 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 Peleüs his Em was ded, Jason bar corone on his hed, Medea hath fulfild his wille: Bot whanne he scholde of riht fulfille 4190 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: Medea with hire art hath wroght 4200 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. Tho cam Medea to Jason 4210 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, Wher as sche pleigneth upon love, 4220 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.

Mi fader, I may lieve it wel, 4230 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; And natheles, if thou wolt wite, 4240 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 The Cronique of his name was; 4250 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, This worthi queene, as thou miht hiere, 4260 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, A newe wif he tok to bedde, 4270 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. A yeer or tuo sche let do sowe 4280 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, To loke if it mai be foryive, 4290 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 That he delivere the contre 4300 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, And every man thanne after tolde 4310 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: And bad his wif to take kepe 4320 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, Wher in the wise as Yno bad 4330 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; And this goddesse forth withal 4340 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, That fro the Schep, which hath hire bore, 4350 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, Why Jason was forswore so 4360 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 Upon mi Schrifte to procede, 4370 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 The name and the condicion 4380 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, Which is noght of tho racches founde; 4390 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, And with the more he makth his tasse, 4400 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. And riht so ther ben manye of these 4410 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; For sielden is whan thei recovere, 4420 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, With false weyhtes that thei make. 4430

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 Than evere I tok of love ayein: 4440 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: And if myn happ were so wel went, 4450 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, For every day the betre I se 4460 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. And if sche of hire goode leve 4470 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