Confessio Amantis; Or, Tales of the Seven Deadly Sins (part 2 of 2)

Confessio Amantis; Or, Tales of the Seven Deadly Sins (part 2 of 2)

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 partie I mai me wel excuse and schal; And forto speke forth withal, If eny brocour for me wente, That point cam nevere in myn entente: 4480 So that the more me merveilleth, What thing it is mi ladi eilleth, That al myn herte and al my time Sche hath, and doth no betre bime.

I have herd seid that thoght is fre, And natheles in privete To you, mi fader, that ben hiere Min hole schrifte forto hiere, I dar min herte wel desclose. Touchende usure, as I suppose, 4490 Which as ye telle in love is used, Mi ladi mai noght ben excused; That for o lokinge of hire yë Min hole herte til I dye With al that evere I may and can Sche hath me wonne to hire man: Wherof, me thenkth, good reson wolde That sche somdel rewarde scholde, And yive a part, ther sche hath al. I not what falle hierafter schal, 4500 Bot into nou yit dar I sein, Hire liste nevere yive ayein A goodli word in such a wise, Wherof min hope mihte arise, Mi grete love to compense. I not hou sche hire conscience Excuse wole of this usure; Be large weyhte and gret mesure Sche hath mi love, and I have noght Of that which I have diere boght, 4510 And with myn herte I have it paid; Bot al that is asyde laid, And I go loveles aboute. Hire oghte stonde if ful gret doute, Til sche redresce such a sinne, That sche wole al mi love winne And yifth me noght to live by: Noght als so moche as “grant mercy” Hir list to seie, of which I mihte Som of mi grete peine allyhte. 4520 Bot of this point, lo, thus I fare As he that paith for his chaffare, And beith it diere, and yit hath non, So mot he nedes povere gon: Thus beie I diere and have no love, That I ne mai noght come above To winne of love non encress. Bot I me wole natheles Touchende usure of love aquite; And if mi ladi be to wyte, 4530 I preie to god such grace hir sende That sche be time it mot amende.

Mi Sone, of that thou hast ansuerd Touchende Usure I have al herd, Hou thou of love hast wonne smale: Bot that thou tellest in thi tale And thi ladi therof accusest, Me thenkth tho wordes thou misusest. For be thin oghne knowlechinge Thou seist hou sche for o lokinge 4540 Thin hole herte fro the tok: Sche mai be such, that hire o lok Is worth thin herte manyfold; So hast thou wel thin herte sold, Whan thou hast that is more worth. And ek of that thou tellest forth, Hou that hire weyhte of love unevene Is unto thin, under the hevene Stod nevere in evene that balance Which stant in loves governance. 4550 Such is the statut of his lawe, That thogh thi love more drawe And peise in the balance more, Thou miht noght axe ayein therfore Of duete, bot al of grace. For love is lord in every place, Ther mai no lawe him justefie Be reddour ne be compaignie, That he ne wole after his wille Whom that him liketh spede or spille. 4560

To love a man mai wel beginne, Bot whether he schal lese or winne, That wot noman til ate laste: Forthi coveite noght to faste, Mi Sone, bot abyd thin ende, Per cas al mai to goode wende. Bot that thou hast me told and said, Of o thing I am riht wel paid, That thou be sleyhte ne be guile Of no brocour hast otherwhile 4570 Engined love, for such dede Is sore venged, as I rede.

Brocours of love that deceiven, No wonder is thogh thei receiven After the wrong that thei decerven; For whom as evere that thei serven And do plesance for a whyle, Yit ate laste here oghne guile Upon here oghne hed descendeth, Which god of his vengance sendeth, 4580 As be ensample of time go A man mai finde it hath be so. It fell somtime, as it was sene, The hihe goddesse and the queene Juno tho hadde in compainie A Maiden full of tricherie; For sche was evere in on acord With Jupiter, that was hire lord, To gete him othre loves newe, Thurgh such brocage and was untrewe 4590 Al otherwise than him nedeth. Bot sche, which of no schame dredeth, With queinte wordes and with slyhe Blente in such wise hir lady yhe, As sche to whom that Juno triste, So that therof sche nothing wiste. Bot so prive mai be nothing, That it ne comth to knowleching; Thing don upon the derke nyht Is after knowe on daies liht: 4600 So it befell, that ate laste Al that this slyhe maiden caste Was overcast and overthrowe. For as the sothe mot be knowe, To Juno was don understonde In what manere hir housebonde With fals brocage hath take usure Of love mor than his mesure, Whan he tok othre than his wif, Wherof this mayden was gultif, 4610 Which hadde ben of his assent. And thus was al the game schent; She soffreth him, as sche mot nede, Bot the brocour of his misdede, Sche which hir conseil yaf therto, On hire is the vengance do: For Juno with hire wordes hote, This Maiden, which Eccho was hote, Reproveth and seith in this wise: “O traiteresse, of which servise 4620 Hast thou thin oghne ladi served! Thou hast gret peine wel deserved, That thou canst maken it so queinte, Thi slyhe wordes forto peinte Towardes me, that am thi queene, Wherof thou madest me to wene That myn housbonde trewe were, Whan that he loveth elleswhere, Al be it so him nedeth noght. Bot upon thee it schal be boght, 4630 Which art prive to tho doinges, And me fulofte of thi lesinges Deceived hast: nou is the day That I thi while aquite may; And for thou hast to me conceled That my lord hath with othre deled, I schal thee sette in such a kende, That evere unto the worldes ende Al that thou hierest thou schalt telle, And clappe it out as doth a belle.” 4640 And with that word sche was forschape, Ther may no vois hire mouth ascape, What man that in the wodes crieth, Withoute faile Eccho replieth, And what word that him list to sein, The same word sche seith ayein. Thus sche, which whilom hadde leve To duelle in chambre, mot beleve In wodes and on helles bothe, For such brocage as wyves lothe, 4650 Which doth here lordes hertes change And love in other place strange.

Forthi, if evere it so befalle, That thou, mi Sone, amonges alle Be wedded man, hold that thou hast, For thanne al other love is wast. O wif schal wel to thee suffise, And thanne, if thou for covoitise Of love woldest axe more, Thou scholdest don ayein the lore 4660 Of alle hem that trewe be.

Mi fader, as in this degre My conscience is noght accused; For I no such brocage have used, Wherof that lust of love is wonne. Forthi spek forth, as ye begonne, Of Avarice upon mi schrifte.

Mi Sone, I schal the branches schifte Be ordre so as thei ben set, On whom no good is wel beset. 4670

Blinde Avarice of his lignage For conseil and for cousinage, To be withholde ayein largesse, Hath on, whos name is seid Skarsnesse, The which is kepere of his hous, And is so thurghout averous, That he no good let out of honde; Thogh god himself it wolde fonde, Of yifte scholde he nothing have; And if a man it wolde crave, 4680 He moste thanne faile nede, Wher god himselve mai noght spede. And thus Skarsnesse in every place Be reson mai no thonk porchace, And natheles in his degree Above all othre most prive With Avarice stant he this. For he governeth that ther is In ech astat of his office After the reule of thilke vice; 4690 He takth, he kepth, he halt, he bint, That lihtere is to fle the flint Than gete of him in hard or neisshe Only the value of a reysshe Of good in helpinge of an other, Noght thogh it were his oghne brother. For in the cas of yifte and lone Stant every man for him al one, Him thenkth of his unkindeschipe That him nedeth no felaschipe: 4700 Be so the bagge and he acorden, Him reccheth noght what men recorden Of him, or it be evel or good. For al his trust is on his good, So that al one he falleth ofte, Whan he best weneth stonde alofte, Als wel in love as other wise; For love is evere of som reprise To him that wole his love holde. Forthi, mi Sone, as thou art holde, 4710 Touchende of this tell me thi schrifte: Hast thou be scars or large of yifte Unto thi love, whom thou servest? For after that thou wel deservest Of yifte, thou miht be the bet; For that good holde I wel beset, For why thou miht the betre fare; Thanne is no wisdom forto spare. For thus men sein, in every nede He was wys that ferst made mede; 4720 For where as mede mai noght spede, I not what helpeth other dede: Fulofte he faileth of his game That wol with ydel hand reclame His hauk, as many a nyce doth. Forthi, mi Sone, tell me soth And sei the trouthe, if thou hast be Unto thy love or skars or fre.

Mi fader, it hath stonde thus, That if the tresor of Cresus 4730 And al the gold Octovien, Forth with the richesse Yndien Of Perles and of riche stones, Were al togedre myn at ones, I sette it at nomore acompte Than wolde a bare straw amonte, To yive it hire al in a day, Be so that to that suete may I myhte like or more or lesse. And thus be cause of my scarsnesse 4740 Ye mai wel understonde and lieve That I schal noght the worse achieve The pourpos which is in my thoght. Bot yit I yaf hir nevere noght, Ne therto dorste a profre make; For wel I wot sche wol noght take, And yive wol sche noght also, Sche is eschu of bothe tuo. And this I trowe be the skile Towardes me, for sche ne wile 4750 That I have eny cause of hope, Noght also mochel as a drope. Bot toward othre, as I mai se, Sche takth and yifth in such degre, That as be weie of frendlihiede Sche can so kepe hir wommanhiede, That every man spekth of hir wel. Bot sche wole take of me no del, And yit sche wot wel that I wolde Yive and do bothe what I scholde 4760 To plesen hire in al my myht: Be reson this wot every wyht, For that mai be no weie asterte, Ther sche is maister of the herte, Sche mot be maister of the good. For god wot wel that al my mod And al min herte and al mi thoght And al mi good, whil I have oght, Als freliche as god hath it yive, It schal ben hires, while I live, 4770 Riht as hir list hirself commande. So that it nedeth no demande, To axe of me if I be scars To love, for as to tho pars I wole ansuere and seie no.

Mi Sone, that is riht wel do. For often times of scarsnesse It hath be sen, that for the lesse Is lost the more, as thou schalt hiere A tale lich to this matiere. 4780

Skarsnesse and love acorden nevere, For every thing is wel the levere, Whan that a man hath boght it diere: And forto speke in this matiere, For sparinge of a litel cost Fulofte time a man hath lost The large cote for the hod. What man that scars is of his good And wol noght yive, he schal noght take: With yifte a man mai undertake 4790 The hihe god to plese and queme, With yifte a man the world mai deme; For every creature bore, If thou him yive, is glad therfore, And every gladschipe, as I finde, Is confort unto loves kinde And causeth ofte a man to spede. So was he wys that ferst yaf mede, For mede kepeth love in house; Bot wher the men ben coveitouse 4800 And sparen forto yive a part, Thei knowe noght Cupides art: For his fortune and his aprise Desdeigneth alle coveitise And hateth alle nygardie. And forto loke of this partie, A soth ensample, hou it is so,

I finde write of Babio; Which hadde a love at his menage, Ther was non fairere of hire age, 4810 And hihte Viola be name; Which full of youthe and ful of game Was of hirself, and large and fre, Bot such an other chinche as he Men wisten noght in al the lond, And hadde affaited to his hond His servant, the which Spodius Was hote. And in this wise thus The worldes good of sufficance Was had, bot likinge and plesance, 4820 Of that belongeth to richesse Of love, stod in gret destresse; So that this yonge lusty wyht Of thing which fell to loves riht Was evele served overal, That sche was wo bego withal, Til that Cupide and Venus eke A medicine for the seke Ordeigne wolden in this cas. So as fortune thanne was, 4830 Of love upon the destine It fell, riht as it scholde be, A freissh, a fre, a frendly man That noght of Avarice can, Which Croceus be name hihte, Toward this swete caste his sihte, And ther sche was cam in presence. Sche sih him large of his despence, And amorous and glad of chiere, So that hir liketh wel to hiere 4840 The goodly wordes whiche he seide; And therupon of love he preide, Of love was al that he mente, To love and for sche scholde assente, He yaf hire yiftes evere among. Bot for men sein that mede is strong, It was wel seene at thilke tyde; For as it scholde of ryht betyde, This Viola largesce hath take And the nygard sche hath forsake: 4850 Of Babio sche wol no more, For he was grucchende everemore, Ther was with him non other fare Bot forto prinche and forto spare, Of worldes muk to gete encress. So goth the wrecche loveles, Bejaped for his Skarcete, And he that large was and fre And sette his herte to despende, This Croceus, the bowe bende, 4860 Which Venus tok him forto holde, And schotte als ofte as evere he wolde.

Lo, thus departeth love his lawe, That what man wol noght be felawe To yive and spende, as I thee telle, He is noght worthi forto duelle In loves court to be relieved. Forthi, my Sone, if I be lieved, Thou schalt be large of thi despence.

Mi fader, in mi conscience 4870 If ther be eny thing amis, I wol amende it after this, Toward mi love namely.

Mi Sone, wel and redely Thou seist, so that wel paid withal I am, and forthere if I schal Unto thi schrifte specefie Of Avarices progenie What vice suieth after this, Thou schalt have wonder hou it is, 4880 Among the folk in eny regne That such a vice myhte regne, Which is comun at alle assaies, As men mai finde nou adaies.

The vice lik unto the fend, Which nevere yit was mannes frend, And cleped is Unkindeschipe, Of covine and of felaschipe With Avarice he is withholde. Him thenkth he scholde noght ben holde 4890 Unto the moder which him bar; Of him mai nevere man be war, He wol noght knowe the merite, For that he wolde it noght aquite; Which in this world is mochel used, And fewe ben therof excused. To telle of him is endeles, Bot this I seie natheles, Wher as this vice comth to londe, Ther takth noman his thonk on honde; 4900 Thogh he with alle his myhtes serve, He schal of him no thonk deserve. He takth what eny man wol yive, Bot whil he hath o day to live, He wol nothing rewarde ayein; He gruccheth forto yive o grein, Wher he hath take a berne full. That makth a kinde herte dull, To sette his trust in such frendschipe, Ther as he fint no kindeschipe; 4910 And forto speke wordes pleine, Thus hiere I many a man compleigne, That nou on daies thou schalt finde At nede fewe frendes kinde; What thou hast don for hem tofore, It is foryete, as it were lore. The bokes speken of this vice, And telle hou god of his justice, Be weie of kinde and ek nature And every lifissh creature, 4920 The lawe also, who that it kan, Thei dampnen an unkinde man.

It is al on to seie unkinde As thing which don is ayein kinde, For it with kinde nevere stod A man to yelden evel for good. For who that wolde taken hede, A beste is glad of a good dede, And loveth thilke creature After the lawe of his nature 4930 Which doth him ese. And forto se Of this matiere Auctorite, Fulofte time it hath befalle; Wherof a tale amonges alle, Which is of olde ensamplerie, I thenke forto specefie.

To speke of an unkinde man, I finde hou whilom Adrian, Of Rome which a gret lord was, Upon a day as he per cas 4940 To wode in his huntinge wente, It hapneth at a soudein wente, After his chace as he poursuieth, Thurgh happ, the which noman eschuieth, He fell unwar into a pet, Wher that it mihte noght be let. The pet was dep and he fell lowe, That of his men non myhte knowe Wher he becam, for non was nyh, Which of his fall the meschief syh. 4950 And thus al one ther he lay Clepende and criende al the day For socour and deliverance, Til ayein Eve it fell per chance, A while er it began to nyhte, A povere man, which Bardus hihte, Cam forth walkende with his asse, And hadde gadred him a tasse Of grene stickes and of dreie To selle, who that wolde hem beie, 4960 As he which hadde no liflode, Bot whanne he myhte such a lode To toune with his Asse carie. And as it fell him forto tarie That ilke time nyh the pet, And hath the trusse faste knet, He herde a vois, which cride dimme, And he his Ere to the brimme Hath leid, and herde it was a man, Which seide, “Ha, help hier Adrian, 4970 And I wol yiven half mi good.”

The povere man this understod, As he that wolde gladly winne, And to this lord which was withinne He spak and seide, “If I thee save, What sikernesse schal I have Of covenant, that afterward Thou wolt me yive such reward As thou behihtest nou tofore?”

That other hath his othes swore 4980 Be hevene and be the goddes alle, If that it myhte so befalle That he out of the pet him broghte, Of all the goodes whiche he oghte He schal have evene halvendel.

This Bardus seide he wolde wel; And with this word his Asse anon He let untrusse, and therupon Doun goth the corde into the pet, To which he hath at ende knet 4990 A staf, wherby, he seide, he wolde That Adrian him scholde holde. Bot it was tho per chance falle, Into that pet was also falle An Ape, which at thilke throwe, Whan that the corde cam doun lowe, Al sodeinli therto he skipte And it in bothe hise armes clipte. And Bardus with his Asse anon Him hath updrawe, and he is gon. 5000 But whan he sih it was an Ape, He wende al hadde ben a jape Of faierie, and sore him dradde: And Adrian eftsone gradde For help, and cride and preide faste, And he eftsone his corde caste; Bot whan it cam unto the grounde, A gret Serpent it hath bewounde, The which Bardus anon up drouh. And thanne him thoghte wel ynouh, 5010 It was fantosme, bot yit he herde The vois, and he therto ansuerde, “What wiht art thou in goddes name?”

“I am,” quod Adrian, “the same, Whos good thou schalt have evene half.” Quod Bardus, “Thanne a goddes half The thridde time assaie I schal”: And caste his corde forth withal Into the pet, and whan it cam To him, this lord of Rome it nam, 5020 And therupon him hath adresced, And with his hand fulofte blessed, And thanne he bad to Bardus hale. And he, which understod his tale, Betwen him and his Asse al softe Hath drawe and set him up alofte Withouten harm al esely. He seith noght ones “grant merci,” Bot strauhte him forth to the cite, And let this povere Bardus be. 5030 And natheles this simple man His covenant, so as he can, Hath axed; and that other seide, If so be that he him umbreide Of oght that hath be speke or do, It schal ben venged on him so, That him were betre to be ded. And he can tho non other red, But on his asse ayein he caste His trusse, and hieth homward faste: 5040 And whan that he cam hom to bedde, He tolde his wif hou that he spedde. Bot finaly to speke oght more Unto this lord he dradde him sore, So that a word ne dorste he sein: And thus upon the morwe ayein, In the manere as I recorde, Forth with his Asse and with his corde To gadre wode, as he dede er, He goth; and whan that he cam ner 5050 Unto the place where he wolde, He hath his Ape anon beholde, Which hadde gadred al aboute Of stickes hiere and there a route, And leide hem redy to his hond, Wherof he made his trosse and bond; Fro dai to dai and in this wise This Ape profreth his servise, So that he hadde of wode ynouh. Upon a time and as he drouh 5060 Toward the wode, he sih besyde The grete gastli Serpent glyde, Til that sche cam in his presence, And in hir kinde a reverence Sche hath him do, and forth withal A Ston mor briht than a cristall Out of hir mouth tofore his weie Sche let doun falle, and wente aweie, For that he schal noght ben adrad. Tho was this povere Bardus glad, 5070 Thonkende god, and to the Ston He goth an takth it up anon, And hath gret wonder in his wit Hou that the beste him hath aquit, Wher that the mannes Sone hath failed, For whom he hadde most travailed. Bot al he putte in goddes hond, And torneth hom, and what he fond Unto his wif he hath it schewed; And thei, that weren bothe lewed, 5080 Acorden that he scholde it selle. And he no lengere wolde duelle, Bot forth anon upon the tale The Ston he profreth to the sale; And riht as he himself it sette, The jueler anon forth fette The gold and made his paiement, Therof was no delaiement.

Thus whan this Ston was boght and sold, Homward with joie manyfold 5090 This Bardus goth; and whan he cam Hom to his hous and that he nam His gold out of his Purs, withinne He fond his Ston also therinne, Wherof for joie his herte pleide, Unto his wif and thus he seide, “Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi Ston!” His wif hath wonder therupon, And axeth him hou that mai be. “Nou be mi trouthe I not,” quod he, 5100 “Bot I dar swere upon a bok, That to my Marchant I it tok, And he it hadde whan I wente: So knowe I noght to what entente It is nou hier, bot it be grace. Forthi tomorwe in other place I wole it fonde forto selle, And if it wol noght with him duelle, Bot crepe into mi purs ayein, Than dar I saufly swere and sein, 5110 It is the vertu of the Ston.”

The morwe cam, and he is gon To seche aboute in other stede His Ston to selle, and he so dede, And lefte it with his chapman there. Bot whan that he cam elleswhere, In presence of his wif at hom, Out of his Purs and that he nom His gold, he fond his Ston withal: And thus it fell him overal, 5120 Where he it solde in sondri place, Such was the fortune and the grace. Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd, That it nys ate laste kidd: This fame goth aboute Rome So ferforth, that the wordes come To themperour Justinian; And he let sende for the man, And axede him hou that it was. And Bardus tolde him al the cas, 5130 Hou that the worm and ek the beste, Althogh thei maden no beheste, His travail hadden wel aquit; Bot he which hadde a mannes wit, And made his covenant be mouthe And swor therto al that he couthe To parte and yiven half his good, Hath nou foryete hou that it stod, As he which wol no trouthe holde.

This Emperour al that he tolde 5140 Hath herd, and thilke unkindenesse He seide he wolde himself redresse. And thus in court of juggement This Adrian was thanne assent, And the querele in audience Declared was in the presence Of themperour and many mo; Wherof was mochel speche tho And gret wondringe among the press. Bot ate laste natheles 5150 For the partie which hath pleigned The lawe hath diemed and ordeigned Be hem that were avised wel, That he schal have the halvendel Thurghout of Adrianes good. And thus of thilke unkinde blod Stant the memoire into this day, Wherof that every wysman may Ensamplen him, and take in mynde What schame it is to ben unkinde; 5160 Ayein the which reson debateth, And every creature it hateth.

Forthi, mi Sone, in thin office I rede fle that ilke vice. For riht as the Cronique seith Of Adrian, hou he his feith Foryat for worldes covoitise, Fulofte in such a maner wise Of lovers nou a man mai se Full manye that unkinde be: 5170 For wel behote and evele laste That is here lif; for ate laste, Whan that thei have here wille do, Here love is after sone ago. What seist thou, Sone, to this cas?

Mi fader, I wol seie Helas, That evere such a man was bore, Which whan he hath his trouthe suore And hath of love what he wolde, That he at eny time scholde 5180 Evere after in his herte finde To falsen and to ben unkinde. Bot, fader, as touchende of me, I mai noght stonde in that degre; For I tok nevere of love why, That I ne mai wel go therby And do my profit elles where, For eny sped I finde there. I dar wel thenken al aboute, Bot I ne dar noght speke it oute; 5190 And if I dorste, I wolde pleigne, That sche for whom I soffre peine And love hir evere aliche hote, That nouther yive ne behote In rewardinge of mi servise It list hire in no maner wise. I wol noght say that sche is kinde, And forto sai sche is unkinde, That dar I noght; bot god above, Which demeth every herte of love, 5200 He wot that on myn oghne side Schal non unkindeschipe abide: If it schal with mi ladi duelle, Therof dar I nomore telle. Nou, goode fader, as it is, Tell me what thenketh you of this.

Mi Sone, of that unkindeschipe, The which toward thi ladischipe Thou pleignest, for sche wol thee noght, Thou art to blamen of that thoght. 5210 For it mai be that thi desir, Thogh it brenne evere as doth the fyr, Per cas to hire honour missit, Or elles time com noght yit, Which standt upon thi destine: Forthi, mi Sone, I rede thee, Thenk wel, what evere the befalle; For noman hath his lustes alle. Bot as thou toldest me before That thou to love art noght forswore, 5220 And hast don non unkindenesse, Thou miht therof thi grace blesse: And lef noght that continuance; For ther mai be no such grevance To love, as is unkindeschipe. Wherof to kepe thi worschipe, So as these olde bokes tale, I schal thee telle a redi tale: Nou herkne and be wel war therby, For I wol telle it openly. 5230

Mynos, as telleth the Poete, The which whilom was king of Crete, A Sone hadde and Androchee He hihte: and so befell that he Unto Athenes forto lere Was send, and so he bar him there, For that he was of hih lignage, Such pride he tok in his corage, That he foryeten hath the Scoles, And in riote among the foles 5240 He dede manye thinges wronge; And useth thilke lif so longe, Til ate laste of that he wroghte He fond the meschief which he soghte, Wherof it fell that he was slain. His fader, which it herde sain, Was wroth, and al that evere he mihte, Of men of Armes he him dighte A strong pouer, and forth he wente Unto Athenys, where he brente 5250 The pleine contre al aboute: The Cites stode of him in doute, As thei that no defence hadde Ayein the pouer which he ladde.

Egeüs, which was there king, His conseil tok upon this thing, For he was thanne in the Cite: So that of pes into tretee Betwen Mynos and Egeüs Thei felle, and ben acorded thus; 5260 That king Mynos fro yer to yeere Receive schal, as thou schalt here, Out of Athenys for truage Of men that were of myhti Age Persones nyne, of whiche he schal His wille don in special For vengance of his Sones deth. Non other grace ther ne geth, Bot forto take the juise; And that was don in such a wise, 5270 Which stod upon a wonder cas. For thilke time so it was, Wherof that men yit rede and singe, King Mynos hadde in his kepinge A cruel Monstre, as seith the geste: For he was half man and half beste, And Minotaurus he was hote, Which was begete in a riote Upon Pasiphe, his oghne wif, Whil he was oute upon the strif 5280 Of thilke grete Siege at Troie. Bot sche, which lost hath alle joie, Whan that sche syh this Monstre bore, Bad men ordeigne anon therfore: And fell that ilke time thus, Ther was a Clerk, on Dedalus, Which hadde ben of hire assent Of that hir world was so miswent; And he made of his oghne wit, Wherof the remembrance is yit, 5290 For Minotaure such an hous, Which was so strange and merveilous, That what man that withinne wente, Ther was so many a sondri wente, That he ne scholde noght come oute, But gon amased al aboute. And in this hous to loke and warde Was Minotaurus put in warde, That what lif that therinne cam, Or man or beste, he overcam 5300 And slow, and fedde him therupon; And in this wise many on Out of Athenys for truage Devoured weren in that rage. For every yeer thei schope hem so, Thei of Athenys, er thei go Toward that ilke wofull chance, As it was set in ordinance, Upon fortune here lot thei caste; Til that Theseüs ate laste, 5310 Which was the kinges Sone there, Amonges othre that ther were In thilke yeer, as it befell, The lot upon his chance fell. He was a worthi kniht withalle; And whan he sih this chance falle, He ferde as thogh he tok non hiede, Bot al that evere he mihte spiede, With him and with his felaschipe Forth into Crete he goth be Schipe; 5320 Wher that the king Mynos he soghte, And profreth all that he him oghte Upon the point of here acord.

This sterne king, this cruel lord Tok every day on of the Nyne, And put him to the discipline Of Minotaure, to be devoured; Bot Theseüs was so favoured, That he was kept til ate laste. And in the meene while he caste 5330 What thing him were best to do: And fell that Adriagne tho, Which was the dowhter of Mynos, And hadde herd the worthi los Of Theseüs and of his myht, And syh he was a lusti kniht, Hire hole herte on him sche leide, And he also of love hir preide, So ferforth that thei were al on. And sche ordeigneth thanne anon 5340 In what manere he scholde him save, And schop so that sche dede him have A clue of thred, of which withinne Ferst ate dore he schal beginne With him to take that on ende, That whan he wolde ayeinward wende, He mihte go the same weie. And over this, so as I seie, Of pich sche tok him a pelote, The which he scholde into the throte 5350 Of Minotaure caste rihte: Such wepne also for him sche dighte, That he be reson mai noght faile To make an ende of his bataile; For sche him tawhte in sondri wise, Til he was knowe of thilke emprise, Hou he this beste schulde quelle. And thus, schort tale forto telle, So as this Maide him hadde tawht, Theseüs with this Monstre fawht, 5360 Smot of his hed, the which he nam, And be the thred, so as he cam, He goth ayein, til he were oute. Tho was gret wonder al aboute: Mynos the tribut hath relessed, And so was al the werre cessed Betwen Athene and hem of Crete.

Bot now to speke of thilke suete, Whos beaute was withoute wane, This faire Maiden Adriane, 5370 Whan that sche sih Theseüs sound, Was nevere yit upon the ground A gladder wyht that sche was tho. Theseüs duelte a dai or tuo Wher that Mynos gret chiere him dede: Theseüs in a prive stede Hath with this Maiden spoke and rouned, That sche to him was abandouned In al that evere that sche couthe, So that of thilke lusty youthe 5380 Al prively betwen hem tweie The ferste flour he tok aweie. For he so faire tho behihte That evere, whil he live mihte, He scholde hire take for his wif, And as his oghne hertes lif He scholde hire love and trouthe bere; And sche, which mihte noght forbere, So sore loveth him ayein, That what as evere he wolde sein 5390 With al hire herte sche believeth. And thus his pourpos he achieveth, So that assured of his trouthe With him sche wente, and that was routhe.

Fedra hire yonger Soster eke, A lusti Maide, a sobre, a meke, Fulfild of alle curtesie, For Sosterhode and compainie Of love, which was hem betuene, To sen hire Soster mad a queene, 5400 Hire fader lefte and forth sche wente With him, which al his ferste entente Foryat withinne a litel throwe, So that it was al overthrowe, Whan sche best wende it scholde stonde. The Schip was blowe fro the londe, Wherin that thei seilende were; This Adriagne hath mochel fere Of that the wynd so loude bleu, As sche which of the See ne kneu, 5410 And preide forto reste a whyle. And so fell that upon an yle, Which Chyo hihte, thei ben drive, Where he to hire his leve hath yive That sche schal londe and take hire reste. Bot that was nothing for the beste: For whan sche was to londe broght, Sche, which that time thoghte noght Bot alle trouthe, and tok no kepe, Hath leid hire softe forto slepe, 5420 As sche which longe hath ben forwacched; Bot certes sche was evele macched And fer from alle loves kinde; For more than the beste unkinde Theseüs, which no trouthe kepte, Whil that this yonge ladi slepte, Fulfild of his unkindeschipe Hath al foryete the goodschipe Which Adriane him hadde do, And bad unto the Schipmen tho 5430 Hale up the seil and noght abyde, And forth he goth the same tyde Toward Athene, and hire alonde He lefte, which lay nyh the stronde Slepende, til that sche awok. Bot whan that sche cast up hire lok Toward the stronde and sih no wyht, Hire herte was so sore aflyht, That sche ne wiste what to thinke, Bot drouh hire to the water brinke, 5440 Wher sche behield the See at large. Sche sih no Schip, sche sih no barge Als ferforth as sche mihte kenne: “Ha lord,” sche seide, “which a Senne, As al the world schal after hiere, Upon this woful womman hiere This worthi kniht hath don and wroght! I wende I hadde his love boght, And so deserved ate nede, Whan that he stod upon his drede, 5450 And ek the love he me behihte. It is gret wonder hou he mihte Towardes me nou ben unkinde, And so to lete out of his mynde Thing which he seide his oghne mouth. Bot after this whan it is couth And drawe into the worldes fame, It schal ben hindringe of his name: For wel he wot and so wot I, He yaf his trouthe bodily, 5460 That he myn honour scholde kepe.” And with that word sche gan to wepe, And sorweth more than ynouh: Hire faire tresces sche todrouh, And with hirself tok such a strif, That sche betwen the deth and lif Swounende lay fulofte among. And al was this on him along, Which was to love unkinde so, Wherof the wrong schal everemo 5470 Stonde in Cronique of remembrance. And ek it asketh a vengance To ben unkinde in loves cas, So as Theseüs thanne was, Al thogh he were a noble kniht; For he the lawe of loves riht Forfeted hath in alle weie, That Adriagne he putte aweie, Which was a gret unkinde dede: And after this, so as I rede, 5480 Fedra, the which hir Soster is, He tok in stede of hire, and this Fel afterward to mochel teene. For thilke vice of which I meene, Unkindeschipe, where it falleth, The trouthe of mannes herte it palleth, That he can no good dede aquite: So mai he stonde of no merite Towardes god, and ek also Men clepen him the worldes fo; 5490 For he nomore than the fend Unto non other man is frend, Bot al toward himself al one. Forthi, mi Sone, in thi persone This vice above all othre fle.

Mi fader, as ye techen me, I thenke don in this matiere. Bot over this nou wolde I hiere, Wherof I schal me schryve more.

Mi goode Sone, and for thi lore, 5500 After the reule of coveitise I schal the proprete devise Of every vice by and by. Nou herkne and be wel war therby.

In the lignage of Avarice, Mi Sone, yit ther is a vice, His rihte name it is Ravine, Which hath a route of his covine. Ravine among the maistres duelleth, And with his servantz, as men telleth, 5510 Extorcion is nou withholde: Ravine of othre mennes folde Makth his larder and paieth noght; For wher as evere it mai be soght, In his hous ther schal nothing lacke, And that fulofte abyth the packe Of povere men that duelle aboute. Thus stant the comun poeple in doute, Which can do non amendement; For whanne him faileth paiement, 5520 Ravine makth non other skile, Bot takth be strengthe what he wile.

So ben ther in the same wise Lovers, as I thee schal devise, That whan noght elles mai availe, Anon with strengthe thei assaile And gete of love the sesine, Whan thei se time, be Ravine.

Forthi, mi Sone, schrif thee hier, If thou hast ben a Raviner 5530 Of love.

Certes, fader, no: For I mi ladi love so, That thogh I were as was Pompeie, That al the world me wolde obeie, Or elles such as Alisandre, I wolde noght do such a sklaundre; It is no good man, which so doth.

In good feith, Sone, thou seist soth: For he that wole of pourveance Be such a weie his lust avance, 5540 He schal it after sore abie, Bot if these olde ensamples lie.

Nou, goode fader, tell me on, So as ye cunne manyon, Touchende of love in this matiere.

Nou list, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere, So as it hath befalle er this, In loves cause hou that it is A man to take be Ravine The preie which is femeline. 5550

Ther was a real noble king, And riche of alle worldes thing, Which of his propre enheritance Athenes hadde in governance, And who so thenke therupon, His name was king Pandion. Tuo douhtres hadde he be his wif, The whiche he lovede as his lif; The ferste douhter Progne hihte, And the secounde, as sche wel mihte, 5560 Was cleped faire Philomene, To whom fell after mochel tene. The fader of his pourveance His doughter Progne wolde avance, And yaf hire unto mariage A worthi king of hih lignage, A noble kniht eke of his hond, So was he kid in every lond, Of Trace he hihte Tereüs; The clerk Ovide telleth thus. 5570 This Tereüs his wif hom ladde, A lusti lif with hire he hadde; Til it befell upon a tyde, This Progne, as sche lay him besyde, Bethoughte hir hou it mihte be That sche hir Soster myhte se, And to hir lord hir will sche seide, With goodly wordes and him preide That sche to hire mihte go: And if it liked him noght so, 5580 That thanne he wolde himselve wende, Or elles be som other sende, Which mihte hire diere Soster griete, And schape hou that thei mihten miete. Hir lord anon to that he herde Yaf his acord, and thus ansuerde: “I wole,” he seide, “for thi sake The weie after thi Soster take Miself, and bringe hire, if I may.” And sche with that, there as he lay, 5590 Began him in hire armes clippe, And kist him with hir softe lippe, And seide, “Sire, grant mercy.” And he sone after was redy, And tok his leve forto go; In sori time dede he so.

This Tereüs goth forth to Schipe With him and with his felaschipe; Be See the rihte cours he nam, Into the contre til he cam, 5600 Wher Philomene was duellinge, And of hir Soster the tidinge He tolde, and tho thei weren glade, And mochel joie of him thei made. The fader and the moder bothe To leve here douhter weren lothe, Bot if thei weren in presence; And natheles at reverence Of him, that wolde himself travaile, Thei wolden noght he scholde faile 5610 Of that he preide, and yive hire leve: And sche, that wolde noght beleve, In alle haste made hire yare Toward hir Soster forto fare, With Tereüs and forth sche wente. And he with al his hole entente, Whan sche was fro hir frendes go, Assoteth of hire love so, His yhe myhte he noght withholde, That he ne moste on hir beholde; 5620 And with the sihte he gan desire, And sette his oghne herte on fyre; And fyr, whan it to tow aprocheth, To him anon the strengthe acrocheth, Til with his hete it be devoured, The tow ne mai noght be socoured. And so that tirant raviner, Whan that sche was in his pouer, And he therto sawh time and place, As he that lost hath alle grace, 5630 Foryat he was a wedded man, And in a rage on hire he ran, Riht as a wolf which takth his preie. And sche began to crie and preie, “O fader, o mi moder diere, Nou help!” Bot thei ne mihte it hiere, And sche was of to litel myht Defense ayein so ruide a knyht To make, whanne he was so wod That he no reson understod, 5640 Bot hield hire under in such wise, That sche ne myhte noght arise, Bot lay oppressed and desesed, As if a goshauk hadde sesed A brid, which dorste noght for fere Remue: and thus this tirant there Beraft hire such thing as men sein Mai neveremor be yolde ayein, And that was the virginite: Of such Ravine it was pite. 5650

Bot whan sche to hirselven com, And of hir meschief hiede nom, And knew hou that sche was no maide, With wofull herte thus sche saide, “O thou of alle men the worste, Wher was ther evere man that dorste Do such a dede as thou hast do? That dai schal falle, I hope so, That I schal telle out al mi fille, And with mi speche I schal fulfille 5660 The wyde world in brede and lengthe. That thou hast do to me be strengthe, If I among the poeple duelle, Unto the poeple I schal it telle; And if I be withinne wall Of Stones closed, thanne I schal Unto the Stones clepe and crie, And tellen hem thi felonie; And if I to the wodes wende, Ther schal I tellen tale and ende, 5670 And crie it to the briddes oute, That thei schul hiere it al aboute. For I so loude it schal reherce, That my vois schal the hevene perce, That it schal soune in goddes Ere. Ha, false man, where is thi fere? O mor cruel than eny beste, Hou hast thou holden thi beheste Which thou unto my Soster madest? O thou, which alle love ungladest, 5680 And art ensample of alle untrewe, Nou wolde god mi Soster knewe, Of thin untrouthe, hou that it stod!” And he than as a Lyon wod With hise unhappi handes stronge Hire cauhte be the tresses longe, With whiche he bond ther bothe hire armes, That was a fieble dede of armes, And to the grounde anon hire caste, And out he clippeth also faste 5690 Hire tunge with a peire scheres. So what with blod and what with teres Out of hire yhe and of hir mouth, He made hire faire face uncouth: Sche lay swounende unto the deth, Ther was unethes eny breth; Bot yit whan he hire tunge refte, A litel part therof belefte, Bot sche with al no word mai soune, Bot chitre and as a brid jargoune. 5700 And natheles that wode hound Hir bodi hent up fro the ground, And sente hir there as be his wille Sche scholde abyde in prison stille For everemo: bot nou tak hiede What after fell of this misdede.

Whanne al this meschief was befalle, This Tereüs, that foule him falle, Unto his contre hom he tyh; And whan he com his paleis nyh, 5710 His wif al redi there him kepte. Whan he hir sih, anon he wepte, And that he dede for deceite, For sche began to axe him streite, “Wher is mi Soster?” And he seide That sche was ded; and Progne abreide, As sche that was a wofull wif, And stod betuen hire deth and lif, Of that sche herde such tidinge: Bot for sche sih hire lord wepinge, 5720 She wende noght bot alle trouthe, And hadde wel the more routhe. The Perles weren tho forsake To hire, and blake clothes take; As sche that was gentil and kinde, In worschipe of hir Sostres mynde Sche made a riche enterement, For sche fond non amendement To syghen or to sobbe more: So was ther guile under the gore. 5730

Nou leve we this king and queene, And torne ayein to Philomene, As I began to tellen erst. Whan sche cam into prison ferst, It thoghte a kinges douhter strange To maken so soudein a change Fro welthe unto so grete a wo; And sche began to thenke tho, Thogh sche be mouthe nothing preide, Withinne hir herte thus sche seide: 5740 “O thou, almyhty Jupiter, That hihe sist and lokest fer, Thou soffrest many a wrong doinge, And yit it is noght thi willinge. To thee ther mai nothing ben hid, Thou wost hou it is me betid: I wolde I hadde noght be bore, For thanne I hadde noght forlore Mi speche and mi virginite. Bot, goode lord, al is in thee, 5750 Whan thou therof wolt do vengance And schape mi deliverance.” And evere among this ladi wepte, And thoghte that sche nevere kepte To ben a worldes womman more, And that sche wissheth everemore. Bot ofte unto hir Soster diere Hire herte spekth in this manere, And seide, “Ha, Soster, if ye knewe Of myn astat, ye wolde rewe, 5760 I trowe, and my deliverance Ye wolde schape, and do vengance On him that is so fals a man: And natheles, so as I can, I wol you sende som tokninge, Wherof ye schul have knowlechinge Of thing I wot, that schal you lothe, The which you toucheth and me bothe.” And tho withinne a whyle als tyt Sche waf a cloth of Selk al whyt 5770 With lettres and ymagerie, In which was al the felonie, Which Tereüs to hire hath do; And lappede it togedre tho And sette hir signet therupon And sende it unto Progne anon. The messager which forth it bar, What it amonteth is noght war; And natheles to Progne he goth And prively takth hire the cloth, 5780 And wente ayein riht as he cam, The court of him non hiede nam.

Whan Progne of Philomene herde, Sche wolde knowe hou that it ferde, And opneth that the man hath broght, And wot therby what hath be wroght And what meschief ther is befalle. In swoune tho sche gan doun falle, And efte aros and gan to stonde, And eft sche takth the cloth on honde, 5790 Behield the lettres and thymages; Bot ate laste, “Of suche oultrages,” Sche seith, “wepinge is noght the bote:” And swerth, if that sche live mote, It schal be venged otherwise. And with that sche gan hire avise Hou ferst sche mihte unto hire winne Hir Soster, that noman withinne, Bot only thei that were suore, It scholde knowe, and schop therfore 5800 That Tereüs nothing it wiste; And yit riht as hirselven liste, Hir Soster was delivered sone Out of prison, and be the mone To Progne sche was broght be nyhte.

Whan ech of other hadde a sihte, In chambre, ther thei were al one, Thei maden many a pitous mone; Bot Progne most of sorwe made, Which sihe hir Soster pale and fade 5810 And specheles and deshonoured, Of that sche hadde be defloured; And ek upon hir lord sche thoghte, Of that he so untreuly wroghte And hadde his espousaile broke. Sche makth a vou it schal be wroke, And with that word sche kneleth doun Wepinge in gret devocioun: Unto Cupide and to Venus Sche preide, and seide thanne thus: 5820 “O ye, to whom nothing asterte Of love mai, for every herte Ye knowe, as ye that ben above The god and the goddesse of love; Ye witen wel that evere yit With al mi will and al my wit, Sith ferst ye schopen me to wedde, That I lay with mi lord abedde, I have be trewe in mi degre, And evere thoghte forto be, 5830 And nevere love in other place, Bot al only the king of Trace, Which is mi lord and I his wif. Bot nou allas this wofull strif! That I him thus ayeinward finde The most untrewe and most unkinde That evere in ladi armes lay. And wel I wot that he ne may Amende his wrong, it is so gret; For he to lytel of me let, 5840 Whan he myn oughne Soster tok, And me that am his wif forsok.”

Lo, thus to Venus and Cupide Sche preide, and furthermor sche cride Unto Appollo the hiheste, And seide, “O myghti god of reste, Thou do vengance of this debat. Mi Soster and al hire astat Thou wost, and hou sche hath forlore Hir maidenhod, and I therfore 5850 In al the world schal bere a blame Of that mi Soster hath a schame, That Tereüs to hire I sente: And wel thou wost that myn entente Was al for worschipe and for goode. O lord, that yifst the lives fode To every wyht, I prei thee hiere Thes wofull Sostres that ben hiere, And let ous noght to the ben lothe; We ben thin oghne wommen bothe.” 5860

Thus pleigneth Progne and axeth wreche, And thogh hire Soster lacke speche, To him that alle thinges wot Hire sorwe is noght the lasse hot: Bot he that thanne had herd hem tuo, Him oughte have sorwed everemo For sorwe which was hem betuene. With signes pleigneth Philomene, And Progne seith, “It schal be wreke, That al the world therof schal speke.” 5870 And Progne tho seknesse feigneth, Wherof unto hir lord sche pleigneth, And preith sche moste hire chambres kepe, And as hir liketh wake and slepe. And he hire granteth to be so; And thus togedre ben thei tuo, That wolde him bot a litel good. Nou herk hierafter hou it stod Of wofull auntres that befelle: Thes Sostres, that ben bothe felle,— 5880 And that was noght on hem along, Bot onliche on the grete wrong Which Tereüs hem hadde do,— Thei schopen forto venge hem tho.

This Tereüs be Progne his wif A Sone hath, which as his lif He loveth, and Ithis he hihte: His moder wiste wel sche mihte Do Tereüs no more grief Than sle this child, which was so lief. 5890 Thus sche, that was, as who seith, mad Of wo, which hath hir overlad, Withoute insihte of moderhede Foryat pite and loste drede, And in hir chambre prively This child withouten noise or cry Sche slou, and hieu him al to pieces: And after with diverse spieces The fleissh, whan it was so toheewe, Sche takth, and makth therof a sewe, 5900 With which the fader at his mete Was served, til he hadde him ete; That he ne wiste hou that it stod, Bot thus his oughne fleissh and blod Himself devoureth ayein kinde, As he that was tofore unkinde. And thanne, er that he were arise, For that he scholde ben agrise, To schewen him the child was ded, This Philomene tok the hed 5910 Betwen tuo disshes, and al wrothe Tho comen forth the Sostres bothe, And setten it upon the bord. And Progne tho began the word, And seide, “O werste of alle wicke, Of conscience whom no pricke Mai stere, lo, what thou hast do! Lo, hier ben nou we Sostres tuo; O Raviner, lo hier thi preie, With whom so falsliche on the weie 5920 Thou hast thi tirannye wroght. Lo, nou it is somdel aboght, And bet it schal, for of thi dede The world schal evere singe and rede In remembrance of thi defame: For thou to love hast do such schame, That it schal nevere be foryete.” With that he sterte up fro the mete, And schof the bord unto the flor, And cauhte a swerd anon and suor 5930 That thei scholde of his handes dye. And thei unto the goddes crie Begunne with so loude a stevene, That thei were herd unto the hevene; And in a twinclinge of an yhe The goddes, that the meschief syhe, Here formes changen alle thre. Echon of hem in his degre Was torned into briddes kinde; Diverseliche, as men mai finde, 5940 After thastat that thei were inne, Here formes were set atwinne. And as it telleth in the tale, The ferst into a nyhtingale Was schape, and that was Philomene, Which in the wynter is noght sene, For thanne ben the leves falle And naked ben the buisshes alle. For after that sche was a brid, Hir will was evere to ben hid, 5950 And forto duelle in prive place, That noman scholde sen hir face For schame, which mai noght be lassed, Of thing that was tofore passed, Whan that sche loste hir maidenhiede: For evere upon hir wommanhiede, Thogh that the goddes wolde hire change, Sche thenkth, and is the more strange, And halt hir clos the wyntres day. Bot whan the wynter goth away, 5960 And that Nature the goddesse Wole of hir oughne fre largesse With herbes and with floures bothe The feldes and the medwes clothe, And ek the wodes and the greves Ben heled al with grene leves, So that a brid hire hyde mai, Betwen Averil and March and Maii, Sche that the wynter hield hir clos, For pure schame and noght aros, 5970 Whan that sche seth the bowes thikke, And that ther is no bare sticke, Bot al is hid with leves grene, To wode comth this Philomene And makth hir ferste yeres flyht; Wher as sche singeth day and nyht, And in hir song al openly Sche makth hir pleignte and seith, “O why, O why ne were I yit a maide?” For so these olde wise saide, 5980 Which understoden what sche mente, Hire notes ben of such entente. And ek thei seide hou in hir song Sche makth gret joie and merthe among, And seith, “Ha, nou I am a brid, Ha, nou mi face mai ben hid: Thogh I have lost mi Maidenhede, Schal noman se my chekes rede.” Thus medleth sche with joie wo And with hir sorwe merthe also, 5990 So that of loves maladie Sche makth diverse melodie, And seith love is a wofull blisse, A wisdom which can noman wisse, A lusti fievere, a wounde softe: This note sche reherceth ofte To hem whiche understonde hir tale. Nou have I of this nyhtingale, Which erst was cleped Philomene, Told al that evere I wolde mene, 6000 Bothe of hir forme and of hir note, Wherof men mai the storie note.

And of hir Soster Progne I finde, Hou sche was torned out of kinde Into a Swalwe swift of winge, Which ek in wynter lith swounynge, Ther as sche mai nothing be sene: Bot whan the world is woxe grene And comen is the Somertide, Than fleth sche forth and ginth to chide, 6010 And chitreth out in hir langage What falshod is in mariage, And telleth in a maner speche Of Tereüs the Spousebreche. Sche wol noght in the wodes duelle, For sche wolde openliche telle; And ek for that sche was a spouse, Among the folk sche comth to house, To do thes wyves understonde The falshod of hire housebonde, 6020 That thei of hem be war also, For ther ben manye untrewe of tho. Thus ben the Sostres briddes bothe, And ben toward the men so lothe, That thei ne wole of pure schame Unto no mannes hand be tame; For evere it duelleth in here mynde Of that thei founde a man unkinde, And that was false Tereüs. If such on be amonges ous 6030 I not, bot his condicion Men sein in every region Withinne toune and ek withoute Nou regneth comunliche aboute. And natheles in remembrance I wol declare what vengance The goddes hadden him ordeined, Of that the Sostres hadden pleigned: For anon after he was changed And from his oghne kinde stranged, 6040 A lappewincke mad he was, And thus he hoppeth on the gras, And on his hed ther stant upriht A creste in tokne he was a kniht; And yit unto this dai men seith, A lappewincke hath lore his feith And is the brid falseste of alle.

Bewar, mi Sone, er thee so falle; For if thou be of such covine, To gete of love be Ravine 6050 Thi lust, it mai thee falle thus, As it befell of Tereüs.

Mi fader, goddes forebode! Me were levere be fortrode With wilde hors and be todrawe, Er I ayein love and his lawe Dede eny thing or loude or stille, Which were noght mi ladi wille. Men sein that every love hath drede; So folweth it that I hire drede, 6060 For I hire love, and who so dredeth, To plese his love and serve him nedeth. Thus mai ye knowen be this skile That no Ravine don I wile Ayein hir will be such a weie; Bot while I live, I wol obeie Abidinge on hire courtesie, If eny merci wolde hir plie. Forthi, mi fader, as of this I wot noght I have don amis: 6070 Bot furthermore I you beseche, Som other point that ye me teche, And axeth forth, if ther be auht, That I mai be the betre tauht.

Whan Covoitise in povere astat Stant with himself upon debat Thurgh lacke of his misgovernance, That he unto his sustienance Ne can non other weie finde To gete him good, thanne as the blinde, 6080 Which seth noght what schal after falle, That ilke vice which men calle Of Robberie, he takth on honde; Wherof be water and be londe Of thing which othre men beswinke He get him cloth and mete and drinke. Him reccheth noght what he beginne, Thurgh thefte so that he mai winne: Forthi to maken his pourchas He lith awaitende on the pas, 6090 And what thing that he seth ther passe, He takth his part, or more or lasse, If it be worthi to be take. He can the packes wel ransake, So prively berth non aboute His gold, that he ne fint it oute, Or other juel, what it be; He takth it as his proprete. In wodes and in feldes eke Thus Robberie goth to seke, 6100 Wher as he mai his pourpos finde.

And riht so in the same kinde, My goode Sone, as thou miht hiere, To speke of love in the matiere And make a verrai resemblance, Riht as a thief makth his chevance And robbeth mennes good aboute In wode and field, wher he goth oute, So be ther of these lovers some, In wylde stedes wher thei come 6110 And finden there a womman able, And therto place covenable, Withoute leve, er that thei fare, Thei take a part of that chaffare: Yee, though sche were a Scheperdesse, Yit wol the lord of wantounesse Assaie, althogh sche be unmete, For other mennes good is swete. Bot therof wot nothing the wif At hom, which loveth as hir lif 6120 Hir lord, and sitt alday wisshinge After hir lordes hom comynge: Bot whan that he comth hom at eve, Anon he makth his wif beleve, For sche noght elles scholde knowe: He telth hire hou his hunte hath blowe, And hou his houndes have wel runne, And hou ther schon a merye Sunne, And hou his haukes flowen wel; Bot he wol telle her nevere a diel 6130 Hou he to love untrewe was, Of that he robbede in the pas, And tok his lust under the schawe Ayein love and ayein his lawe.

Which thing, mi Sone, I thee forbede, For it is an ungoodly dede. For who that takth be Robberie His love, he mai noght justefie His cause, and so fulofte sithe For ones that he hath be blithe 6140 He schal ben after sory thries. Ensample of suche Robberies I finde write, as thou schalt hiere, Acordende unto this matiere.

I rede hou whilom was a Maide, The faireste, as Ovide saide, Which was in hire time tho; And sche was of the chambre also Of Pallas, which is the goddesse And wif to Marte, of whom prouesse 6150 Is yove to these worthi knihtes. For he is of so grete mihtes, That he governeth the bataille; Withouten him may noght availe The stronge hond, bot he it helpe; Ther mai no knyht of armes yelpe, Bot he feihte under his banere. Bot nou to speke of mi matiere, This faire, freisshe, lusti mai, Al one as sche wente on a dai 6160 Upon the stronde forto pleie, Ther cam Neptunus in the weie, Which hath the See in governance; And in his herte such plesance He tok, whan he this Maide sih, That al his herte aros on hih, For he so sodeinliche unwar Behield the beaute that sche bar. And caste anon withinne his herte That sche him schal no weie asterte, 6170 Bot if he take in avantage Fro thilke maide som pilage, Noght of the broches ne the Ringes, Bot of some othre smale thinges He thoghte parte, er that sche wente; And hire in bothe hise armes hente, And putte his hond toward the cofre, Wher forto robbe he made a profre, That lusti tresor forto stele, Which passeth othre goodes fele 6180 And cleped is the maidenhede, Which is the flour of wommanhede. This Maiden, which Cornix be name Was hote, dredende alle schame, Sih that sche mihte noght debate, And wel sche wiste he wolde algate Fulfille his lust of Robberie, Anon began to wepe and crie, And seide, “O Pallas, noble queene, Scheu nou thi myht and let be sene, 6190 To kepe and save myn honour: Help, that I lese noght mi flour, Which nou under thi keie is loke.” That word was noght so sone spoke, Whan Pallas schop recoverir After the will and the desir Of hire, which a Maiden was, And sodeinliche upon this cas Out of hire wommanisshe kinde Into a briddes like I finde 6200 Sche was transformed forth withal, So that Neptunus nothing stal Of such thing as he wolde have stole. With fetheres blake as eny cole Out of hise armes in a throwe Sche flih before his yhe a Crowe; Which was to hire a more delit, To kepe hire maidenhede whit Under the wede of fethers blake, In Perles whyte than forsake 6210 That no lif mai restore ayein. Bot thus Neptune his herte in vein Hath upon Robberie sett; The bridd is flowe and he was let, The faire Maide him hath ascaped, Wherof for evere he was bejaped And scorned of that he hath lore.

Mi Sone, be thou war therfore That thou no maidenhode stele, Wherof men sen deseses fele 6220 Aldai befalle in sondri wise; So as I schal thee yit devise An other tale therupon, Which fell be olde daies gon.

King Lichaon upon his wif A dowhter hadde, a goodly lif, A clene Maide of worthi fame, Calistona whos rihte name Was cleped, and of many a lord Sche was besoght, bot hire acord 6230 To love myhte noman winne, As sche which hath no lust therinne; Bot swor withinne hir herte and saide That sche wolde evere ben a Maide. Wherof to kepe hireself in pes, With suche as Amadriades Were cleped, wodemaydes, tho, And with the Nimphes ek also Upon the spring of freisshe welles Sche schop to duelle and nagher elles. 6240 And thus cam this Calistona Into the wode of Tegea, Wher sche virginite behihte Unto Diane, and therto plihte Her trouthe upon the bowes grene, To kepe hir maidenhode clene. Which afterward upon a day Was priveliche stole away; For Jupiter thurgh his queintise From hire it tok in such a wise, 6250 That sodeinliche forth withal Hire wombe aros and sche toswal, So that it mihte noght ben hidd. And therupon it is betidd, Diane, which it herde telle, In prive place unto a welle With Nimphes al a compainie Was come, and in a ragerie Sche seide that sche bathe wolde, And bad that every maide scholde 6260 With hire al naked bathe also. And tho began the prive wo, Calistona wax red for schame; Bot thei that knewe noght the game, To whom no such thing was befalle, Anon thei made hem naked alle, As thei that nothing wolden hyde: Bot sche withdrouh hire evere asyde, And natheles into the flod, Wher that Diane hirselve stod, 6270 Sche thoghte come unaperceived. Bot therof sche was al deceived; For whan sche cam a litel nyh, And that Diane hire wombe syh, Sche seide, “Awey, thou foule beste, For thin astat is noght honeste This chaste water forto touche; For thou hast take such a touche, Which nevere mai ben hol ayein.” And thus goth sche which was forlein 6280 With schame, and fro the Nimphes fledde, Til whanne that nature hire spedde, That of a Sone, which Archas Was named, sche delivered was. And tho Juno, which was the wif Of Jupiter, wroth and hastif, In pourpos forto do vengance Cam forth upon this ilke chance, And to Calistona sche spak, And sette upon hir many a lak, 6290 And seide, “Ha, nou thou art atake, That thou thi werk myht noght forsake. Ha, thou ungoodlich ypocrite, Hou thou art gretly forto wyte! Bot nou thou schalt ful sore abie That ilke stelthe and micherie, Which thou hast bothe take and do; Wherof thi fader Lichao Schal noght be glad, whan he it wot, Of that his dowhter was so hot, 6300 That sche hath broke hire chaste avou. Bot I thee schal chastise nou; Thi grete beaute schal be torned, Thurgh which that thou hast be mistorned, Thi large frount, thin yhen greie, I schal hem change in other weie, And al the feture of thi face In such a wise I schal deface, That every man thee schal forbere.” With that the liknesse of a bere 6310 Sche tok and was forschape anon.

Withinne a time and therupon Befell that with a bowe on honde, To hunte and gamen forto fonde, Into that wode goth to pleie Hir Sone Archas, and in his weie It hapneth that this bere cam. And whan that sche good hiede nam, Wher that he stod under the bowh, Sche kneu him wel and to him drouh; 6320 For thogh sche hadde hire forme lore, The love was noght lost therfore Which kinde hath set under his lawe. Whan sche under the wodesschawe Hire child behield, sche was so glad, That sche with bothe hire armes sprad, As thogh sche were in wommanhiede, Toward him cam, and tok non hiede Of that he bar a bowe bent. And he with that an Arwe hath hent 6330 And gan to teise it in his bowe, As he that can non other knowe, Bot that it was a beste wylde. Bot Jupiter, which wolde schylde The Moder and the Sone also, Ordeineth for hem bothe so, That thei for evere were save.

Bot thus, mi Sone, thou myht have Ensample, hou that it is to fle To robbe the virginite 6340 Of a yong innocent aweie: And overthis be other weie, In olde bokes as I rede, Such Robberie is forto drede, And nameliche of thilke good Which every womman that is good Desireth forto kepe and holde, As whilom was be daies olde. For if thou se mi tale wel Of that was tho, thou miht somdiel 6350 Of old ensample taken hiede, Hou that the flour of maidenhiede Was thilke time holde in pris. And so it was, and so it is, And so it schal for evere stonde: And for thou schalt it understonde, Nou herkne a tale next suiende, Hou maidenhod is to commende.

Of Rome among the gestes olde I finde hou that Valerie tolde 6360 That what man tho was Emperour Of Rome, he scholde don honour To the virgine, and in the weie, Wher he hire mette, he scholde obeie In worschipe of virginite, Which tho was of gret dignite. Noght onliche of the wommen tho, Bot of the chaste men also It was commended overal: And forto speke in special 6370 Touchende of men, ensample I finde,

Phyryns, which was of mannes kinde Above alle othre the faireste Of Rome and ek the comelieste, That wel was hire which him mihte Beholde and have of him a sihte. Thus was he tempted ofte sore; Bot for he wolde be nomore Among the wommen so coveited, The beaute of his face streited 6380 He hath, and threste out bothe hise yhen, That alle wommen whiche him syhen Thanne afterward, of him ne roghte: And thus his maidehiede he boghte. So mai I prove wel forthi, Above alle othre under the Sky, Who that the vertus wolde peise, Virginite is forto preise, Which, as thapocalips recordeth, To Crist in hevene best acordeth. 6390 So mai it schewe wel therfore, As I have told it hier tofore, In hevene and ek in Erthe also It is accept to bothe tuo.

And if I schal more over this Declare what this vertu is, I finde write upon this thing Of Valentinian the king And Emperour be thilke daies, A worthi knyht at alle assaies, 6400 Hou he withoute Mariage Was of an hundred wynter Age, And hadde ben a worthi kniht Bothe of his lawe and of his myht. Bot whan men wolde his dedes peise And his knyhthode of Armes preise, Of that he dede with his hondes, Whan he the kinges and the londes To his subjeccion put under, Of al that pris hath he no wonder, 6410 For he it sette of non acompte, And seide al that may noght amonte Ayeins o point which he hath nome, That he his fleissh hath overcome: He was a virgine, as he seide; On that bataille his pris he leide. Lo nou, my Sone, avise thee.

Yee, fader, al this wel mai be, Bot if alle othre dede so, The world of men were sone go: 6420 And in the lawe a man mai finde, Hou god to man be weie of kinde Hath set the world to multeplie; And who that wol him justefie, It is ynouh to do the lawe. And natheles youre goode sawe Is good to kepe, who so may, I wol noght therayein seie nay.

Mi Sone, take it as I seie; If maidenhod be take aweie 6430 Withoute lawes ordinance, It mai noght failen of vengance. And if thou wolt the sothe wite, Behold a tale which is write, Hou that the King Agamenon, Whan he the Cite of Lesbon Hath wonne, a Maiden ther he fond, Which was the faireste of the Lond In thilke time that men wiste. He tok of hire what him liste 6440 Of thing which was most precious, Wherof that sche was dangerous. This faire Maiden cleped is Criseide, douhter of Crisis, Which was that time in special Of thilke temple principal, Wher Phebus hadde his sacrifice, So was it wel the more vice. Agamenon was thanne in weie To Troieward, and tok aweie 6450 This Maiden, which he with him ladde, So grete a lust in hire he hadde. Bot Phebus, which hath gret desdeign Of that his Maiden was forlein, Anon as he to Troie cam, Vengance upon this dede he nam And sende a comun pestilence. Thei soghten thanne here evidence And maden calculacion, To knowe in what condicion 6460 This deth cam in so sodeinly; And ate laste redyly The cause and ek the man thei founde: And forth withal the same stounde Agamenon opposed was, Which hath beknowen al the cas Of the folie which he wroghte. And therupon mercy thei soghte Toward the god in sondri wise With preiere and with sacrifise, 6470 The Maide and hom ayein thei sende, And yive hire good ynouh to spende For evere whil sche scholde live: And thus the Senne was foryive And al the pestilence cessed.

Lo, what it is to ben encressed Of love which is evele wonne. It were betre noght begonne Than take a thing withoute leve, Which thou most after nedes leve, 6480 And yit have malgre forth withal. Forthi to robben overal In loves cause if thou beginne, I not what ese thou schalt winne. Mi Sone, be wel war of this, For thus of Robberie it is.

Mi fader, youre ensamplerie In loves cause of Robberie I have it riht wel understonde. Bot overthis, hou so it stonde, 6490 Yit wolde I wite of youre aprise What thing is more of Covoitise.

With Covoitise yit I finde A Servant of the same kinde, Which Stelthe is hote, and Mecherie With him is evere in compainie. Of whom if I schal telle soth, He stalketh as a Pocok doth, And takth his preie so covert, That noman wot it in apert. 6500 For whan he wot the lord from home, Than wol he stalke aboute and rome; And what thing he fint in his weie, Whan that he seth the men aweie, He stelth it and goth forth withal, That therof noman knowe schal. And ek fulofte he goth a nyht Withoute Mone or sterreliht, And with his craft the dore unpiketh, And takth therinne what him liketh: 6510 And if the dore be so schet, That he be of his entre let, He wole in ate wyndou crepe, And whil the lord is faste aslepe, He stelth what thing as him best list, And goth his weie er it be wist. Fulofte also be lyhte of day Yit wole he stele and make assay; Under the cote his hond he put, Til he the mannes Purs have cut, 6520 And rifleth that he fint therinne. And thus he auntreth him to winne, And berth an horn and noght ne bloweth, For noman of his conseil knoweth; What he mai gete of his Michinge, It is al bile under the winge. And as an hound that goth to folde And hath ther taken what he wolde, His mouth upon the gras he wypeth, And so with feigned chiere him slypeth, 6530 That what as evere of schep he strangle, Ther is noman therof schal jangle, As forto knowen who it dede; Riht so doth Stelthe in every stede, Where as him list his preie take. He can so wel his cause make And so wel feigne and so wel glose, That ther ne schal noman suppose, Bot that he were an innocent, And thus a mannes yhe he blent: 6540 So that this craft I mai remene Withouten help of eny mene.

Ther be lovers of that degre, Which al here lust in privete, As who seith, geten al be Stelthe, And ofte atteignen to gret welthe As for the time that it lasteth. For love awaiteth evere and casteth Hou he mai stele and cacche his preie, Whan he therto mai finde a weie: 6550 For be it nyht or be it day, He takth his part, whan that he may, And if he mai nomore do, Yit wol he stele a cuss or tuo.

Mi Sone, what seist thou therto? Tell if thou dedest evere so.

Mi fader, hou?

Mi Sone, thus,— If thou hast stolen eny cuss Or other thing which therto longeth, For noman suche thieves hongeth: 6560 Tell on forthi and sei the trouthe.

Mi fader, nay, and that is routhe, For be mi will I am a thief; Bot sche that is to me most lief, Yit dorste I nevere in privete Noght ones take hire be the kne, To stele of hire or this or that, And if I dorste, I wot wel what: And natheles, bot if I lie, Be Stelthe ne be Robberie 6570 Of love, which fell in mi thoght, To hire dede I nevere noght. Bot as men sein, wher herte is failed, Ther schal no castell ben assailed; Bot thogh I hadde hertes ten, And were als strong as alle men, If I be noght myn oghne man And dar noght usen that I can, I mai miselve noght recovere. Thogh I be nevere man so povere, 6580 I bere an herte and hire it is, So that me faileth wit in this, Hou that I scholde of myn acord The servant lede ayein the lord: For if mi fot wolde awher go, Or that min hand wolde elles do, Whan that myn herte is therayein, The remenant is al in vein. And thus me lacketh alle wele, And yit ne dar I nothing stele 6590 Of thing which longeth unto love: And ek it is so hyh above, I mai noght wel therto areche, Bot if so be at time of speche, Ful selde if thanne I stele may A word or tuo and go my way. Betwen hire hih astat and me Comparison ther mai non be, So that I fiele and wel I wot, Al is to hevy and to hot 6600 To sette on hond withoute leve: And thus I mot algate leve To stele that I mai noght take, And in this wise I mot forsake To ben a thief ayein mi wille Of thing which I mai noght fulfille. For that Serpent which nevere slepte The flees of gold so wel ne kepte In Colchos, as the tale is told, That mi ladi a thousendfold 6610 Nys betre yemed and bewaked, Wher sche be clothed or be naked. To kepe hir bodi nyht and day, Sche hath a wardein redi ay, Which is so wonderful a wyht, That him ne mai no mannes myht With swerd ne with no wepne daunte, Ne with no sleihte of charme enchaunte, Wherof he mihte be mad tame, And Danger is his rihte name; 6620 Which under lock and under keie, That noman mai it stele aweie, Hath al the Tresor underfonge That unto love mai belonge. The leste lokinge of hire yhe Mai noght be stole, if he it syhe; And who so gruccheth for so lyte, He wolde sone sette a wyte On him that wolde stele more. And that me grieveth wonder sore, 6630 For this proverbe is evere newe, That stronge lokes maken trewe Of hem that wolden stele and pyke: For so wel can ther noman slyke Be him ne be non other mene, To whom Danger wol yive or lene Of that tresor he hath to kepe. So thogh I wolde stalke and crepe, And wayte on eve and ek on morwe, Of Danger schal I nothing borwe, 6640 And stele I wot wel may I noght: And thus I am riht wel bethoght, Whil Danger stant in his office, Of Stelthe, which ye clepe a vice, I schal be gultif neveremo. Therfore I wolde he were ago So fer that I nevere of him herde, Hou so that afterward it ferde: For thanne I mihte yit per cas Of love make som pourchas 6650 Be Stelthe or be som other weie, That nou fro me stant fer aweie.

Bot, fader, as ye tolde above, Hou Stelthe goth a nyht for love, I mai noght wel that point forsake, That ofte times I ne wake On nyhtes, whan that othre slepe; Bot hou, I prei you taketh kepe. Whan I am loged in such wise That I be nyhte mai arise, 6660 At som wyndowe and loken oute And se the housinge al aboute, So that I mai the chambre knowe In which mi ladi, as I trowe, Lyth in hir bed and slepeth softe, Thanne is myn herte a thief fulofte: For there I stonde to beholde The longe nyhtes that ben colde, And thenke on hire that lyth there. And thanne I wisshe that I were 6670 Als wys as was Nectanabus Or elles as was Protheus, That couthen bothe of nigromaunce In what liknesse, in what semblaunce, Riht as hem liste, hemself transforme: For if I were of such a forme, I seie thanne I wolde fle Into the chambre forto se If eny grace wolde falle, So that I mihte under the palle 6680 Som thing of love pyke and stele. And thus I thenke thoghtes fele, And thogh therof nothing be soth, Yit ese as for a time it doth: Bot ate laste whanne I finde That I am falle into my mynde, And se that I have stonde longe And have no profit underfonge, Than stalke I to mi bedd withinne. And this is al that evere I winne 6690 Of love, whanne I walke on nyht: Mi will is good, bot of mi myht Me lacketh bothe and of mi grace; For what so that mi thoght embrace, Yit have I noght the betre ferd. Mi fader, lo, nou have ye herd What I be Stelthe of love have do, And hou mi will hath be therto: If I be worthi to penance I put it on your ordinance. 6700

Mi Sone, of Stelthe I the behiete, Thogh it be for a time swete, At ende it doth bot litel good, As be ensample hou that it stod Whilom, I mai thee telle nou.

I preie you, fader, sei me hou.

Mi Sone, of him which goth be daie Be weie of Stelthe to assaie, In loves cause and takth his preie, Ovide seide as I schal seie, 6710 And in his Methamor he tolde A tale, which is good to holde.

The Poete upon this matiere Of Stelthe wrot in this manere. Venus, which hath this lawe in honde Of thing which mai noght be withstonde, As sche which the tresor to warde Of love hath withinne hir warde, Phebum to love hath so constreigned, That he withoute reste is peined 6720 With al his herte to coveite A Maiden, which was warded streyte Withinne chambre and kept so clos, That selden was whan sche desclos Goth with hir moder forto pleie. Leuchotoe, so as men seie, This Maiden hihte, and Orchamus Hir fader was; and befell thus. This doughter, that was kept so deere, And hadde be fro yer to yeere 6730 Under hir moder discipline A clene Maide and a Virgine, Upon the whos nativite Of comelihiede and of beaute Nature hath set al that sche may, That lich unto the fresshe Maii, Which othre monthes of the yeer Surmonteth, so withoute pier Was of this Maiden the feture. Wherof Phebus out of mesure 6740 Hire loveth, and on every syde Awaiteth, if so mai betyde, That he thurgh eny sleihte myhte Hire lusti maidenhod unrihte, The which were al his worldes welthe. And thus lurkende upon his stelthe In his await so longe he lai, Til it befell upon a dai, That he thurghout hir chambre wall Cam in al sodeinliche, and stall 6750 That thing which was to him so lief. Bot wo the while, he was a thief! For Venus, which was enemie Of thilke loves micherie, Discovereth al the pleine cas To Clymene, which thanne was Toward Phebus his concubine. And sche to lette the covine Of thilke love, dedli wroth To pleigne upon this Maide goth, 6760 And tolde hire fader hou it stod; Wherof for sorwe welnyh wod Unto hire moder thus he saide: “Lo, what it is to kepe a Maide! To Phebus dar I nothing speke, Bot upon hire I schal be wreke, So that these Maidens after this Mow take ensample, what it is To soffre her maidenhed be stole, Wherof that sche the deth schal thole.” 6770 And bad with that do make a pet, Wherinne he hath his douhter set, As he that wol no pite have, So that sche was al quik begrave And deide anon in his presence. Bot Phebus, for the reverence Of that sche hadde be his love, Hath wroght thurgh his pouer above, That sche sprong up out of the molde Into a flour was named golde, 6780 Which stant governed of the Sonne. And thus whan love is evele wonne, Fulofte it comth to repentaile.

Mi fader, that is no mervaile, Whan that the conseil is bewreid. Bot ofte time love hath pleid And stole many a prive game, Which nevere yit cam into blame, Whan that the thinges weren hidde. Bot in youre tale, as it betidde, 6790 Venus discoverede al the cas, And ek also brod dai it was, Whan Phebus such a Stelthe wroghte, Wherof the Maide in blame he broghte, That afterward sche was so lore. Bot for ye seiden nou tofore Hou stelthe of love goth be nyhte, And doth hise thinges out of syhte, Therof me liste also to hiere A tale lich to the matiere, 6800 Wherof I myhte ensample take.

Mi goode Sone, and for thi sake, So as it fell be daies olde, And so as the Poete it tolde, Upon the nyhtes micherie Nou herkne a tale of Poesie.

The myhtieste of alle men Whan Hercules with Eolen, Which was the love of his corage, Togedre upon a Pelrinage 6810 Towardes Rome scholden go, It fell hem be the weie so, That thei upon a dai a Cave Withinne a roche founden have, Which was real and glorious And of Entaile curious, Be name and Thophis it was hote. The Sonne schon tho wonder hote, As it was in the Somer tyde; This Hercules, which be his syde 6820 Hath Eolen his love there, Whan thei at thilke cave were, He seide it thoghte him for the beste That sche hire for the hete reste Al thilke day and thilke nyht; And sche, that was a lusti wyht, It liketh hire al that he seide: And thus thei duelle there and pleide The longe dai. And so befell, This Cave was under the hell 6830 Of Tymolus, which was begrowe With vines, and at thilke throwe Faunus with Saba the goddesse, Be whom the large wildernesse In thilke time stod governed, Weere in a place, as I am lerned, Nyh by, which Bachus wode hihte. This Faunus tok a gret insihte Of Eolen, that was so nyh; For whan that he hire beaute syh, 6840 Out of his wit he was assoted, And in his herte it hath so noted, That he forsok the Nimphes alle, And seide he wolde, hou so it falle, Assaie an other forto winne; So that his hertes thoght withinne He sette and caste hou that he myhte Of love pyke awey be nyhte That he be daie in other wise To stele mihte noght suffise: 6850 And therupon his time he waiteth.

Nou tak good hiede hou love afaiteth Him which withal is overcome. Faire Eolen, whan sche was come With Hercules into the Cave, Sche seide him that sche wolde have Hise clothes of and hires bothe, That ech of hem scholde other clothe. And al was do riht as sche bad, He hath hire in hise clothes clad 6860 And caste on hire his gulion, Which of the Skyn of a Leoun Was mad, as he upon the weie It slouh, and overthis to pleie Sche tok his grete Mace also And knet it at hir gerdil tho. So was sche lich the man arraied, And Hercules thanne hath assaied To clothen him in hire array: And thus thei jape forth the dai, 6870 Til that her Souper redy were. And whan thei hadden souped there, Thei schopen hem to gon to reste; And as it thoghte hem for the beste, Thei bede, as for that ilke nyht, Tuo sondri beddes to be dyht, For thei togedre ligge nolde, Be cause that thei offre wolde Upon the morwe here sacrifice. The servantz deden here office 6880 And sondri beddes made anon, Wherin that thei to reste gon Ech be himself in sondri place. Faire Eole hath set the Mace Beside hire beddes hed above, And with the clothes of hire love Sche helede al hire bed aboute; And he, which hadde of nothing doute, Hire wympel wond aboute his cheke, Hire kertell and hire mantel eke 6890 Abrod upon his bed he spredde. And thus thei slepen bothe abedde; And what of travail, what of wyn, The servantz lich to drunke Swyn Begunne forto route faste.

This Faunus, which his Stelthe caste, Was thanne come to the Cave, And fond thei weren alle save Withoute noise, and in he wente. The derke nyht his sihte blente, 6900 And yit it happeth him to go Where Eolen abedde tho Was leid al one for to slepe; Bot for he wolde take kepe Whos bed it was, he made assai, And of the Leoun, where it lay, The Cote he fond, and ek he fieleth The Mace, and thanne his herte kieleth, That there dorste he noght abyde, Bot stalketh upon every side 6910 And soghte aboute with his hond, That other bedd til that he fond, Wher lai bewympled a visage. Tho was he glad in his corage, For he hir kertell fond also And ek hir mantell bothe tuo Bespred upon the bed alofte. He made him naked thanne, and softe Into the bedd unwar he crepte, Wher Hercules that time slepte, 6920 And wende wel it were sche; And thus in stede of Eole Anon he profreth him to love. But he, which felte a man above, This Hercules, him threw to grounde So sore, that thei have him founde Liggende there upon the morwe; And tho was noght a litel sorwe, That Faunus of himselve made, Bot elles thei were alle glade 6930 And lowhen him to scorne aboute: Saba with Nimphis al a route Cam doun to loke hou that he ferde, And whan that thei the sothe herde, He was bejaped overal.

Mi Sone, be thou war withal To seche suche mecheries, Bot if thou have the betre aspies, In aunter if the so betyde As Faunus dede thilke tyde, 6940 Wherof thou miht be schamed so.

Min holi fader, certes no. Bot if I hadde riht good leve, Such mecherie I thenke leve: Mi feinte herte wol noght serve; For malgre wolde I noght deserve In thilke place wher I love. Bot for ye tolden hier above Of Covoitise and his pilage, If ther be more of that lignage, 6950 Which toucheth to mi schrifte, I preie That ye therof me wolde seie, So that I mai the vice eschuie.

Mi Sone, if I be order suie The vices, as thei stonde arowe, Of Covoitise thou schalt knowe Ther is yit on, which is the laste; In whom ther mai no vertu laste, For he with god himself debateth, Wherof that al the hevene him hateth. 6960

The hihe god, which alle goode Pourveied hath for mannes fode Of clothes and of mete and drinke, Bad Adam that he scholde swinke To geten him his sustienance: And ek he sette an ordinance Upon the lawe of Moises, That though a man be haveles, Yit schal he noght be thefte stele. Bot nou adaies ther ben fele, 6970 That wol no labour undertake, Bot what thei mai be Stelthe take Thei holde it sikerliche wonne. And thus the lawe is overronne, Which god hath set, and namely With hem that so untrewely The goodes robbe of holi cherche. The thefte which thei thanne werche Be name is cleped Sacrilegge, Ayein the whom I thenke alegge. 6980 Of his condicion to telle, Which rifleth bothe bok and belle, So forth with al the remenant To goddes hous appourtenant, Wher that he scholde bidde his bede, He doth his thefte in holi stede, And takth what thing he fint therinne: For whan he seth that he mai winne, He wondeth for no cursednesse, That he ne brekth the holinesse 6990 And doth to god no reverence; For he hath lost his conscience, That though the Prest therfore curse, He seith he fareth noght the wurse.

And forto speke it otherwise, What man that lasseth the franchise And takth of holi cherche his preie, I not what bedes he schal preie. Whan he fro god, which hath yive al, The Pourpartie in special, 7000 Which unto Crist himself is due, Benymth, he mai noght wel eschue The peine comende afterward; For he hath mad his foreward With Sacrilegge forto duelle, Which hath his heritage in helle. And if we rede of tholde lawe, I finde write, in thilke dawe Of Princes hou ther weren thre Coupable sore in this degre. 7010 That on of hem was cleped thus, The proude king Antiochus; That other Nabuzardan hihte, Which of his crualte behyhte The temple to destruie and waste, And so he dede in alle haste; The thridde, which was after schamed, Was Nabugodonosor named, And he Jerusalem putte under, Of Sacrilegge and many a wonder 7020 There in the holi temple he wroghte, Which Baltazar his heir aboghte, Whan Mane, Techel, Phares write Was on the wal, as thou miht wite, So as the bible it hath declared. Bot for al that it is noght spared Yit nou aday, that men ne pile, And maken argument and skile To Sacrilegge as it belongeth, For what man that ther after longeth, 7030 He takth non hiede what he doth.

And riht so, forto telle soth, In loves cause if I schal trete, Ther ben of suche smale and grete: If thei no leisir fynden elles, Thei wol noght wonden for the belles, Ne thogh thei sen the Prest at masse; That wol thei leten overpasse. If that thei finde here love there, Thei stonde and tellen in hire Ere, 7040 And axe of god non other grace, Whyl thei ben in that holi place; Bot er thei gon som avantage Ther wol thei have, and som pilage Of goodli word or of beheste, Or elles thei take ate leste Out of hir hand or ring or glove, So nyh the weder thei wol love, As who seith sche schal noght foryete, Nou I this tokne of hire have gete: 7050 Thus halwe thei the hihe feste. Such thefte mai no cherche areste, For al is leveful that hem liketh, To whom that elles it misliketh. And ek riht in the selve kinde In grete Cites men mai finde This lusti folk, that make it gay, And waite upon the haliday: In cherches and in Menstres eke Thei gon the wommen forto seke, 7060 And wher that such on goth aboute, Tofore the faireste of the route, Wher as thei sitten alle arewe, Ther wol he most his bodi schewe, His croket kembd and theron set A Nouche with a chapelet, Or elles on of grene leves, Which late com out of the greves, Al for he scholde seme freissh. And thus he loketh on the fleissh, 7070 Riht as an hauk which hath a sihte Upon the foul, ther he schal lihte; And as he were of faierie, He scheweth him tofore here yhe In holi place wher thei sitte, Al forto make here hertes flitte. His yhe nawher wole abyde, Bot loke and prie on every syde On hire and hire, as him best lyketh: And otherwhile among he syketh; 7080 Thenkth on of hem, “That was for me,” And so ther thenken tuo or thre, And yit he loveth non of alle, Bot wher as evere his chance falle. And natheles to seie a soth, The cause why that he so doth Is forto stele an herte or tuo, Out of the cherche er that he go: And as I seide it hier above, Al is that Sacrilege of love; 7090 For wel mai be he stelth away That he nevere after yelde may. Tell me forthi, my Sone, anon, Hast thou do Sacrilege, or non, As I have said in this manere?

Mi fader, as of this matiere I wole you tellen redely What I have do; bot trewely I mai excuse min entente, That nevere I yit to cherche wente 7100 In such manere as ye me schryve, For no womman that is on lyve. The cause why I have it laft Mai be for I unto that craft Am nothing able so to stele, Thogh ther be wommen noght so fele. Bot yit wol I noght seie this, Whan I am ther mi ladi is, In whom lith holly mi querele, And sche to cherche or to chapele 7110 Wol go to matins or to messe,— That time I waite wel and gesse, To cherche I come and there I stonde, And thogh I take a bok on honde, Mi contienance is on the bok, Bot toward hire is al my lok; And if so falle that I preie Unto mi god, and somwhat seie Of Paternoster or of Crede, Al is for that I wolde spede, 7120 So that mi bede in holi cherche Ther mihte som miracle werche Mi ladi herte forto chaunge, Which evere hath be to me so strange. So that al mi devocion And al mi contemplacion With al min herte and mi corage Is only set on hire ymage; And evere I waite upon the tyde. If sche loke eny thing asyde, 7130 That I me mai of hire avise, Anon I am with covoitise So smite, that me were lief To ben in holi cherche a thief; Bot noght to stele a vestement, For that is nothing mi talent, Bot I wold stele, if that I mihte, A glad word or a goodly syhte; And evere mi service I profre, And namly whan sche wol gon offre, 7140 For thanne I lede hire, if I may, For somwhat wolde I stele away. Whan I beclippe hire on the wast, Yit ate leste I stele a tast, And otherwhile “grant mercy” Sche seith, and so winne I therby A lusti touch, a good word eke, Bot al the remenant to seke Is fro mi pourpos wonder ferr. So mai I seie, as I seide er, 7150 In holy cherche if that I wowe, My conscience it wolde allowe, Be so that up amendement I mihte gete assignement Wher forto spede in other place: Such Sacrilege I holde a grace. And thus, mi fader, soth to seie, In cherche riht as in the weie, If I mihte oght of love take, Such hansell have I noght forsake. 7160 Bot finali I me confesse, Ther is in me non holinesse, Whil I hire se in eny stede; And yit, for oght that evere I dede, No Sacrilege of hire I tok, Bot if it were of word or lok, Or elles if that I hir fredde, Whan I toward offringe hir ledde, Take therof what I take may, For elles bere I noght away: 7170 For thogh I wolde oght elles have, Alle othre thinges ben so save And kept with such a privilege, That I mai do no Sacrilege. God wot mi wille natheles, Thogh I mot nedes kepe pes And malgre myn so let it passe, Mi will therto is noght the lasse, If I mihte other wise aweie. Forthi, mi fader, I you preie, 7180 Tell what you thenketh therupon, If I therof have gult or non.

Thi will, mi Sone, is forto blame, The remenant is bot a game, That I have herd the telle as yit. Bot tak this lore into thi wit, That alle thing hath time and stede, The cherche serveth for the bede, The chambre is of an other speche. Bot if thou wistest of the wreche, 7190 Hou Sacrilege it hath aboght, Thou woldest betre ben bethoght; And for thou schalt the more amende, A tale I wole on the despende.

To alle men, as who seith, knowe It is, and in the world thurgh blowe, Hou that of Troie Lamedon To Hercules and to Jasoun, Whan toward Colchos out of Grece Be See sailende upon a piece 7200 Of lond of Troie reste preide,— Bot he hem wrathfulli congeide: And for thei founde him so vilein, Whan thei come into Grece ayein, With pouer that thei gete myhte Towardes Troie thei hem dyhte, And ther thei token such vengance, Wherof stant yit the remembrance; For thei destruide king and al, And leften bot the brente wal. 7210 The Grecs of Troiens many slowe And prisoners thei toke ynowe, Among the whiche ther was on, The kinges doughter Lamedon, Esiona, that faire thing, Which unto Thelamon the king Be Hercules and be thassent Of al the hole parlement Was at his wille yove and granted. And thus hath Grece Troie danted, 7220 And hom thei torne in such manere: Bot after this nou schalt thou hiere The cause why this tale I telle, Upon the chances that befelle.

King Lamedon, which deide thus, He hadde a Sone, on Priamus, Which was noght thilke time at hom: Bot whan he herde of this, he com, And fond hou the Cite was falle, Which he began anon to walle 7230 And made ther a cite newe, That thei whiche othre londes knewe Tho seiden, that of lym and Ston In al the world so fair was non. And on that o side of the toun The king let maken Ylioun, That hihe Tour, that stronge place, Which was adrad of no manace Of quarel nor of non engin; And thogh men wolde make a Myn, 7240 No mannes craft it mihte aproche, For it was sett upon a roche. The walles of the toun aboute, Hem stod of al the world no doute, And after the proporcion Sex gates weren of the toun Of such a forme, of such entaile, That hem to se was gret mervaile: The diches weren brode and depe, A fewe men it mihte kepe 7250 From al the world, as semeth tho, Bot if the goddes weren fo. Gret presse unto that cite drouh, So that ther was of poeple ynouh, Of Burgeis that therinne duellen; Ther mai no mannes tunge tellen Hou that cite was riche of good.

Whan al was mad and al wel stod, King Priamus tho him bethoghte What thei of Grece whilom wroghte, 7260 And what was of her swerd devoured, And hou his Soster deshonoured With Thelamon awey was lad: And so thenkende he wax unglad, And sette anon a parlement, To which the lordes were assent. In many a wise ther was spoke, Hou that thei mihten ben awroke, Bot ate laste natheles Thei seiden alle, “Acord and pes.” 7270 To setten either part in reste It thoghte hem thanne for the beste With resonable amendement; And thus was Anthenor forth sent To axe Esionam ayein And witen what thei wolden sein. So passeth he the See be barge To Grece forto seie his charge, The which he seide redely Unto the lordes by and by: 7280 Bot where he spak in Grece aboute, He herde noght bot wordes stoute, And nameliche of Thelamon; The maiden wolde he noght forgon, He seide, for no maner thing, And bad him gon hom to his king, For there gat he non amende For oght he couthe do or sende.

This Anthenor ayein goth hom Unto his king, and whan he com, 7290 He tolde in Grece of that he herde, And hou that Thelamon ansuerde, And hou thei were at here above, That thei wol nouther pes ne love, Bot every man schal don his beste. Bot for men sein that nyht hath reste, The king bethoghte him al that nyht, And erli, whan the dai was lyht, He tok conseil of this matiere; And thei acorde in this manere, 7300 That he withouten eny lette A certein time scholde sette Of Parlement to ben avised: And in the wise it was devised, Of parlement he sette a day, And that was in the Monthe of Maii. This Priamus hadde in his yhte A wif, and Hecuba sche hyhte, Be whom that time ek hadde he Of Sones fyve, and douhtres thre 7310 Besiden hem, and thritty mo, And weren knyhtes alle tho, Bot noght upon his wif begete, Bot elles where he myhte hem gete Of wommen whiche he hadde knowe; Such was the world at thilke throwe: So that he was of children riche, As therof was noman his liche.

Of Parlement the dai was come, Ther ben the lordes alle and some; 7320 Tho was pronounced and pourposed, And al the cause hem was desclosed, Hou Anthenor in Grece ferde. Thei seten alle stille and herde, And tho spak every man aboute: Ther was alegged many a doute, And many a proud word spoke also; Bot for the moste part as tho Thei wisten noght what was the beste, Or forto werre or forto reste. 7330 Bot he that was withoute fere, Hector, among the lordes there His tale tolde in such a wise, And seide, “Lordes, ye ben wise, Ye knowen this als wel as I, Above all othre most worthi Stant nou in Grece the manhode Of worthinesse and of knihthode; For who so wole it wel agrope, To hem belongeth al Europe, 7340 Which is the thridde parti evene Of al the world under the hevene; And we be bot of folk a fewe. So were it reson forto schewe The peril, er we falle thrinne: Betre is to leve, than beginne Thing which as mai noght ben achieved; He is noght wys that fint him grieved, And doth so that his grief be more; For who that loketh al tofore 7350 And wol noght se what is behinde, He mai fulofte hise harmes finde: Wicke is to stryve and have the worse. We have encheson forto corse, This wot I wel, and forto hate The Greks; bot er that we debate With hem that ben of such a myht, It is ful good that every wiht Be of himself riht wel bethoght. Bot as for me this seie I noght; 7360 For while that mi lif wol stonde, If that ye taken werre on honde, Falle it to beste or to the werste, I schal miselven be the ferste To grieven hem, what evere I may. I wol noght ones seie nay To thing which that youre conseil demeth, For unto me wel more it quemeth The werre certes than the pes; Bot this I seie natheles, 7370 As me belongeth forto seie. Nou schape ye the beste weie.”

Whan Hector hath seid his avis, Next after him tho spak Paris, Which was his brother, and alleide What him best thoghte, and thus he seide: “Strong thing it is to soffre wrong, And suffre schame is more strong, Bot we have suffred bothe tuo; And for al that yit have we do 7380 What so we mihte to reforme The pes, whan we in such a forme Sente Anthenor, as ye wel knowe. And thei here grete wordes blowe Upon her wrongful dedes eke; And who that wole himself noght meke To pes, and list no reson take, Men sein reson him wol forsake: For in the multitude of men Is noght the strengthe, for with ten 7390 It hath be sen in trew querele Ayein an hundred false dele, And had the betre of goddes grace. This hath befalle in many place; And if it like unto you alle, I wolde assaie, hou so it falle, Oure enemis if I mai grieve; For I have cawht a gret believe Upon a point I wol declare.

This ender day, as I gan fare 7400 To hunte unto the grete hert, Which was tofore myn houndes stert, And every man went on his syde Him to poursuie, and I to ryde Began the chace, and soth to seie, Withinne a while out of mi weie I rod, and nyste where I was. And slep me cauhte, and on the gras Beside a welle I lay me doun To slepe, and in a visioun 7410 To me the god Mercurie cam; Goddesses thre with him he nam, Minerve, Venus and Juno, And in his hond an Appel tho He hield of gold with lettres write: And this he dede me to wite, Hou that thei putt hem upon me, That to the faireste of hem thre Of gold that Appel scholde I yive. With ech of hem tho was I schrive, 7420 And echon faire me behihte; Bot Venus seide, if that sche mihte That Appel of mi yifte gete, Sche wolde it neveremor foryete, And seide hou that in Grece lond Sche wolde bringe unto myn hond Of al this Erthe the faireste; So that me thoghte it for the beste, To hire and yaf that Appel tho. Thus hope I wel, if that I go, 7430 That sche for me wol so ordeine, That thei matiere forto pleigne Schul have, er that I come ayein. Nou have ye herd that I wol sein: Sey ye what stant in youre avis.” And every man tho seide his, And sundri causes thei recorde, Bot ate laste thei acorde That Paris schal to Grece wende, And thus the parlement tok ende. 7440

Cassandra, whan sche herde of this, The which to Paris Soster is, Anon sche gan to wepe and weile, And seide, “Allas, what mai ous eile? Fortune with hire blinde whiel Ne wol noght lete ous stonde wel: For this I dar wel undertake, That if Paris his weie take, As it is seid that he schal do, We ben for evere thanne undo.” 7450 This, which Cassandre thanne hihte, In al the world as it berth sihte, In bokes as men finde write, Is that Sibille of whom ye wite, That alle men yit clepen sage. Whan that sche wiste of this viage, Hou Paris schal to Grece fare, No womman mihte worse fare Ne sorwe more than sche dede; And riht so in the same stede 7460 Ferde Helenus, which was hir brother, Of prophecie and such an other: And al was holde bot a jape, So that the pourpos which was schape, Or were hem lief or were hem loth, Was holde, and into Grece goth This Paris with his retenance. And as it fell upon his chance, Of Grece he londeth in an yle, And him was told the same whyle 7470 Of folk which he began to freyne, Tho was in thyle queene Heleyne, And ek of contres there aboute Of ladis many a lusti route, With mochel worthi poeple also. And why thei comen theder tho, The cause stod in such a wise,— For worschipe and for sacrifise That thei to Venus wolden make, As thei tofore hadde undertake, 7480 Some of good will, some of beheste, For thanne was hire hihe feste Withinne a temple which was there.

Whan Paris wiste what thei were, Anon he schop his ordinance To gon and don his obeissance To Venus on hire holi day, And dede upon his beste aray. With gret richesse he him behongeth, As it to such a lord belongeth, 7490 He was noght armed natheles, Bot as it were in lond of pes, And thus he goth forth out of Schipe And takth with him his felaschipe: In such manere as I you seie Unto the temple he hield his weie.

Tydinge, which goth overal To grete and smale, forth withal Com to the queenes Ere and tolde Hou Paris com, and that he wolde 7500 Do sacrifise to Venus: And whan sche herde telle thus, Sche thoghte, hou that it evere be, That sche wole him abyde and se.

Forth comth Paris with glad visage Into the temple on pelrinage, Wher unto Venus the goddesse He yifth and offreth gret richesse, And preith hir that he preie wolde. And thanne aside he gan beholde, 7510 And sih wher that this ladi stod; And he forth in his freisshe mod Goth ther sche was and made her chiere, As he wel couthe in his manere, That of his wordes such plesance Sche tok, that al hire aqueintance, Als ferforth as the herte lay, He stal er that he wente away. So goth he forth and tok his leve, And thoghte, anon as it was eve, 7520 He wolde don his Sacrilegge, That many a man it scholde abegge.

Whan he to Schipe ayein was come, To him he hath his conseil nome, And al devised the matiere In such a wise as thou schalt hiere. Withinne nyht al prively His men he warneth by and by, That thei be redy armed sone For certein thing which was to done: 7530 And thei anon ben redi alle, And ech on other gan to calle, And went hem out upon the stronde And tok a pourpos ther alonde Of what thing that thei wolden do, Toward the temple and forth thei go. So fell it, of devocion Heleine in contemplacion With many an other worthi wiht Was in the temple and wok al nyht, 7540 To bidde and preie unto thymage Of Venus, as was thanne usage; So that Paris riht as him liste Into the temple, er thei it wiste, Com with his men al sodeinly, And alle at ones sette ascry In hem whiche in the temple were, For tho was mochel poeple there; Bot of defense was no bote, So soffren thei that soffre mote. 7550

Paris unto the queene wente, And hire in bothe hise armes hente With him and with his felaschipe, And forth thei bere hire unto Schipe. Up goth the Seil and forth thei wente, And such a wynd fortune hem sente, Til thei the havene of Troie cauhte; Where out of Schipe anon thei strauhte And gon hem forth toward the toun, The which cam with processioun 7560 Ayein Paris to sen his preie. And every man began to seie To Paris and his felaschipe Al that thei couthen of worschipe; Was non so litel man in Troie, That he ne made merthe and joie Of that Paris hath wonne Heleine. Bot al that merthe is sorwe and peine To Helenus and to Cassaundre; For thei it token schame and sklaundre 7570 And lost of al the comun grace, That Paris out of holi place Be Stelthe hath take a mannes wif, Wherof that he schal lese his lif And many a worthi man therto, And al the Cite be fordo, Which nevere schal be mad ayein. And so it fell, riht as thei sein, The Sacrilege which he wroghte Was cause why the Gregois soughte 7580 Unto the toun and it beleie, And wolden nevere parte aweie, Til what be sleihte and what be strengthe Thei hadde it wonne in brede and lengthe, And brent and slayn that was withinne. Now se, mi Sone, which a sinne Is Sacrilege in holy stede: Be war therfore and bidd thi bede, And do nothing in holy cherche, Bot that thou miht be reson werche. 7590

And ek tak hiede of Achilles, Whan he unto his love ches Polixena, that was also In holi temple of Appollo, Which was the cause why he dyde And al his lust was leyd asyde.

And Troilus upon Criseide Also his ferste love leide In holi place, and hou it ferde, As who seith, al the world it herde; 7600 Forsake he was for Diomede, Such was of love his laste mede.

Forthi, mi Sone, I wolde rede, Be this ensample as thou myht rede, Sech elles, wher thou wolt, thi grace, And war the wel in holi place What thou to love do or speke, In aunter if it so be wreke As thou hast herd me told before. And tak good hiede also therfore 7610 Upon what forme, of Avarice Mor than of eny other vice, I have divided in parties The branches, whiche of compainies Thurghout the world in general Ben nou the leders overal, Of Covoitise and of Perjure, Of fals brocage and of Usure, Of Skarsnesse and Unkindeschipe, Which nevere drouh to felaschipe, 7620 Of Robberie and privi Stelthe, Which don is for the worldes welthe, Of Ravine and of Sacrilegge, Which makth the conscience agregge; Althogh it mai richesse atteigne, It floureth, bot it schal noght greine Unto the fruit of rihtwisnesse. Bot who that wolde do largesse Upon the reule as it is yive, So myhte a man in trouthe live 7630 Toward his god, and ek also Toward the world, for bothe tuo Largesse awaiteth as belongeth, To neither part that he ne wrongeth; He kepth himself, he kepth his frendes, So stant he sauf to bothe hise endes, That he excedeth no mesure, So wel he can himself mesure: Wherof, mi Sone, thou schalt wite, So as the Philosophre hath write. 7640

Betwen the tuo extremites Of vice stant the propretes Of vertu, and to prove it so Tak Avarice and tak also The vice of Prodegalite; Betwen hem Liberalite, Which is the vertu of Largesse, Stant and governeth his noblesse. For tho tuo vices in discord Stonde evere, as I finde of record; 7650 So that betwen here tuo debat Largesse reuleth his astat. For in such wise as Avarice, As I tofore have told the vice, Thurgh streit holdinge and thurgh skarsnesse Stant in contraire to Largesse, Riht so stant Prodegalite Revers, bot noght in such degre. For so as Avarice spareth, And forto kepe his tresor careth, 7660 That other al his oghne and more Ayein the wise mannes lore Yifth and despendeth hiere and there, So that him reccheth nevere where. While he mai borwe, he wol despende, Til ate laste he seith, “I wende”; Bot that is spoken al to late, For thanne is poverte ate gate And takth him evene be the slieve, For erst wol he no wisdom lieve. 7670 And riht as Avarice is Sinne, That wolde his tresor kepe and winne, Riht so is Prodegalite: Bot of Largesse in his degre, Which evene stant betwen the tuo, The hihe god and man also The vertu ech of hem commendeth. For he himselven ferst amendeth, That overal his name spredeth, And to alle othre, where it nedeth, 7680 He yifth his good in such a wise, That he makth many a man arise, Which elles scholde falle lowe. Largesce mai noght ben unknowe; For what lond that he regneth inne, It mai noght faile forto winne Thurgh his decerte love and grace, Wher it schal faile in other place.

And thus betwen tomoche and lyte Largesce, which is noght to wyte, 7690 Halt evere forth the middel weie: Bot who that torne wole aweie Fro that to Prodegalite, Anon he lest the proprete Of vertu and goth to the vice; For in such wise as Avarice Lest for scarsnesse his goode name, Riht so that other is to blame, Which thurgh his wast mesure excedeth, For noman wot what harm that bredeth. 7700

Bot mochel joie ther betydeth, Wher that largesse an herte guydeth: For his mesure is so governed, That he to bothe partz is lerned, To god and to the world also, He doth reson to bothe tuo. The povere folk of his almesse Relieved ben in the destresse Of thurst, of hunger and of cold; The yifte of him was nevere sold, 7710 Bot frely yive, and natheles The myhti god of his encress Rewardeth him of double grace; The hevene he doth him to pourchace And yifth him ek the worldes good: And thus the Cote for the hod Largesse takth, and yit no Sinne He doth, hou so that evere he winne.

What man hath hors men yive him hors, And who non hath of him no fors, 7720 For he mai thanne on fote go; The world hath evere stonde so. Bot forto loken of the tweie, A man to go the siker weie, Betre is to yive than to take: With yifte a man mai frendes make, Bot who that takth or gret or smal, He takth a charge forth withal, And stant noght fre til it be quit. So forto deme in mannes wit, 7730 It helpeth more a man to have His oghne good, than forto crave Of othre men and make him bounde, Wher elles he mai stonde unbounde.

Senec conseileth in this wise, And seith, “Bot, if thi good suffise Unto the liking of thi wille, Withdrawh thi lust and hold the stille, And be to thi good sufficant.” For that thing is appourtenant 7740 To trouthe and causeth to be fre After the reule of charite, Which ferst beginneth of himselve. For if thou richest othre tuelve, Wherof thou schalt thiself be povere, I not what thonk thou miht recovere.

Whil that a man hath good to yive, With grete routes he mai live And hath his frendes overal, And everich of him telle schal. 7750 Therwhile he hath his fulle packe, Thei seie, “A good felawe is Jacke”; Bot whanne it faileth ate laste, Anon his pris thei overcaste, For thanne is ther non other lawe Bot, “Jacke was a good felawe.” Whan thei him povere and nedy se, Thei lete him passe and farwel he; Al that he wende of compainie Is thanne torned to folie. 7760

Bot nou to speke in other kinde Of love, a man mai suche finde, That wher thei come in every route Thei caste and waste her love aboute, Til al here time is overgon, And thanne have thei love non: For who that loveth overal, It is no reson that he schal Of love have eny proprete. Forthi, mi Sone, avise thee 7770 If thou of love hast be to large, For such a man is noght to charge: And if it so be that thou hast Despended al thi time in wast And set thi love in sondri place, Though thou the substance of thi grace Lese ate laste, it is no wonder; For he that put himselven under, As who seith, comun overal, He lest the love special 7780 Of eny on, if sche be wys; For love schal noght bere his pris Be reson, whanne it passeth on. So have I sen ful many on, That were of love wel at ese, Whiche after felle in gret desese Thurgh wast of love, that thei spente In sondri places wher thei wente.

Riht so, mi Sone, I axe of thee If thou with Prodegalite 7790 Hast hier and ther thi love wasted.

Mi fader, nay; bot I have tasted In many a place as I have go, And yit love I nevere on of tho, Bot forto drive forth the dai. For lieveth wel, myn herte is ay Withoute mo for everemore Al upon on, for I nomore Desire bot hire love al one: So make I many a prive mone, 7800 For wel I fiele I have despended Mi longe love and noght amended Mi sped, for oght I finde yit. If this be wast to youre wit Of love, and Prodegalite, Nou, goode fader, demeth ye: Bot of o thing I wol me schryve, That I schal for no love thryve, Bot if hirself me wol relieve.

Mi Sone, that I mai wel lieve: 7810 And natheles me semeth so, For oght that thou hast yit misdo Of time which thou hast despended, It mai with grace ben amended. For thing which mai be worth the cost Per chaunce is nouther wast ne lost; For what thing stant on aventure, That can no worldes creature Telle in certein hou it schal wende, Til he therof mai sen an ende. 7820 So that I not as yit therfore If thou, mi Sone, hast wonne or lore: For ofte time, as it is sene, Whan Somer hath lost al his grene And is with Wynter wast and bare, That him is left nothing to spare, Al is recovered in a throwe; The colde wyndes overblowe, And still be the scharpe schoures, And soudeinliche ayein his floures 7830 The Somer hapneth and is riche: And so per cas thi graces liche, Mi Sone, thogh thou be nou povere Of love, yit thou miht recovere.

Mi fader, certes grant merci: Ye have me tawht so redeli, That evere whil I live schal The betre I mai be war withal Of thing which ye have seid er this. Bot overmore hou that it is, 7840 Toward mi schrifte as it belongeth, To wite of othre pointz me longeth; Wherof that ye me wolden teche With al myn herte I you beseche.

Explicit Liber Quintus.

Incipit Liber Sextus

Est gula, que nostrum maculavit prima parentem Ex vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo Hec agit, ut corpus anime contraria spirat, Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer. Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur, Potibus ebrietas conviciata ruit. Mersa sopore labis, que Bachus inebriat hospes, Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.

The grete Senne original, Which every man in general Upon his berthe hath envenymed, In Paradis it was mystymed: Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot, His swete morscel was to hot, Which dedly made the mankinde. And in the bokes as I finde, This vice, which so out of rule Hath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule; 10 Of which the branches ben so grete, That of hem alle I wol noght trete, Bot only as touchende of tuo I thenke speke and of no mo; Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe, Which berth the cuppe felaschipe. Ful many a wonder doth this vice, He can make of a wisman nyce, And of a fool, that him schal seme That he can al the lawe deme, 20 And yiven every juggement Which longeth to the firmament Bothe of the sterre and of the mone; And thus he makth a gret clerk sone Of him that is a lewed man. Ther is nothing which he ne can, Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde, He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde, He is a noble man of armes, And yit no strengthe is in his armes: 30 Ther he was strong ynouh tofore, With Dronkeschipe it is forlore, And al is changed his astat, And wext anon so fieble and mat, That he mai nouther go ne come, Bot al togedre him is benome The pouer bothe of hond and fot, So that algate abide he mot. And alle hise wittes he foryet, The which is to him such a let, 40 That he wot nevere what he doth, Ne which is fals, ne which is soth, Ne which is dai, ne which is nyht, And for the time he knowth no wyht, That he ne wot so moche as this, What maner thing himselven is, Or he be man, or he be beste. That holde I riht a sori feste, Whan he that reson understod So soudeinliche is woxe wod, 50 Or elles lich the dede man, Which nouther go ne speke can. Thus ofte he is to bedde broght, Bot where he lith yit wot he noght, Til he arise upon the morwe; And thanne he seith, “O, which a sorwe It is a man be drinkeles!” So that halfdrunke in such a res With dreie mouth he sterte him uppe, And seith, “Nou baillez ça the cuppe.” 60 That made him lese his wit at eve Is thanne a morwe al his beleve; The cuppe is al that evere him pleseth, And also that him most deseseth; It is the cuppe whom he serveth, Which alle cares fro him kerveth And alle bales to him bringeth: In joie he wepth, in sorwe he singeth, For Dronkeschipe is so divers, It may no whyle stonde in vers. 70 He drinkth the wyn, bot ate laste The wyn drynkth him and bint him faste, And leith him drunke be the wal, As him which is his bonde thral And al in his subjeccion.

And lich to such condicion, As forto speke it other wise, It falleth that the moste wise Ben otherwhile of love adoted, And so bewhaped and assoted, 80 Of drunke men that nevere yit Was non, which half so loste his wit Of drinke, as thei of such thing do Which cleped is the jolif wo; And waxen of here oghne thoght So drunke, that thei knowe noght What reson is, or more or lesse. Such is the kinde of that sieknesse, And that is noght for lacke of brain, Bot love is of so gret a main, 90 That where he takth an herte on honde, Ther mai nothing his miht withstonde: The wise Salomon was nome, And stronge Sampson overcome, The knihtli David him ne mihte Rescoue, that he with the sihte Of Bersabee ne was bestad, Virgile also was overlad, And Aristotle was put under. Forthi, mi Sone, it is no wonder 100 If thou be drunke of love among, Which is above alle othre strong: And if so is that thou so be, Tell me thi Schrifte in privite; It is no schame of such a thew A yong man to be dronkelew. Of such Phisique I can a part, And as me semeth be that art, Thou scholdest be Phisonomie Be schapen to that maladie 110 Of lovedrunke, and that is routhe.

Ha, holi fader, al is trouthe That ye me telle: I am beknowe That I with love am so bethrowe, And al myn herte is so thurgh sunke, That I am verrailiche drunke, And yit I mai bothe speke and go. Bot I am overcome so, And torned fro miself so clene, That ofte I wot noght what I mene; 120 So that excusen I ne mai Min herte, fro the ferste day That I cam to mi ladi kiththe, I was yit sobre nevere siththe. Wher I hire se or se hire noght, With musinge of min oghne thoght, Of love, which min herte assaileth, So drunke I am, that mi wit faileth And al mi brain is overtorned, And mi manere so mistorned, 130 That I foryete al that I can And stonde lich a mased man; That ofte, whanne I scholde pleie, It makth me drawe out of the weie In soulein place be miselve, As doth a labourer to delve, Which can no gentil mannes chere; Or elles as a lewed Frere, Whan he is put to his penance, Riht so lese I mi contienance. 140 And if it nedes to betyde, That I in compainie abyde, Wher as I moste daunce and singe The hovedance and carolinge, Or forto go the newefot, I mai noght wel heve up mi fot, If that sche be noght in the weie; For thanne is al mi merthe aweie, And waxe anon of thoght so full, Wherof mi limes ben so dull, 150 I mai unethes gon the pas. For thus it is and evere was, Whanne I on suche thoghtes muse, The lust and merthe that men use, Whan I se noght mi ladi byme, Al is foryete for the time So ferforth that mi wittes changen And alle lustes fro me strangen, That thei seie alle trewely, And swere, that it am noght I. 160 For as the man which ofte drinketh, With win that in his stomac sinketh Wext drunke and witles for a throwe, Riht so mi lust is overthrowe, And of myn oghne thoght so mat I wexe, that to myn astat Ther is no lime wol me serve, Bot as a drunke man I swerve, And suffre such a Passion, That men have gret compassion, 170 And everich be himself merveilleth What thing it is that me so eilleth. Such is the manere of mi wo Which time that I am hire fro, Til eft ayein that I hire se. Bot thanne it were a nycete To telle you hou that I fare: For whanne I mai upon hire stare, Hire wommanhede, hire gentilesse, Myn herte is full of such gladnesse, 180 That overpasseth so mi wit, That I wot nevere where it sit, Bot am so drunken of that sihte, Me thenkth that for the time I mihte Riht sterte thurgh the hole wall; And thanne I mai wel, if I schal, Bothe singe and daunce and lepe aboute, And holde forth the lusti route. Bot natheles it falleth so Fulofte, that I fro hire go 190 Ne mai, bot as it were a stake, I stonde avisement to take And loke upon hire faire face; That for the while out of the place For al the world ne myhte I wende. Such lust comth thanne unto mi mende, So that withoute mete or drinke, Of lusti thoughtes whiche I thinke Me thenkth I mihte stonden evere; And so it were to me levere 200 Than such a sihte forto leve, If that sche wolde yif me leve To have so mochel of mi wille. And thus thenkende I stonde stille Withoute blenchinge of myn yhe, Riht as me thoghte that I syhe Of Paradis the moste joie: And so therwhile I me rejoie, Into myn herte a gret desir, The which is hotere than the fyr, 210 Al soudeinliche upon me renneth, That al mi thoght withinne brenneth, And am so ferforth overcome, That I not where I am become; So that among the hetes stronge In stede of drinke I underfonge A thoght so swete in mi corage, That nevere Pyment ne vernage Was half so swete forto drinke. For as I wolde, thanne I thinke 220 As thogh I were at myn above, For so thurgh drunke I am of love, That al that mi sotye demeth Is soth, as thanne it to me semeth. And whyle I mai tho thoghtes kepe, Me thenkth as thogh I were aslepe And that I were in goddes barm; Bot whanne I se myn oghne harm, And that I soudeinliche awake Out of my thought, and hiede take 230 Hou that the sothe stant in dede, Thanne is mi sekernesse in drede And joie torned into wo, So that the hete is al ago Of such sotie as I was inne. And thanne ayeinward I beginne To take of love a newe thorst, The which me grieveth altherworst, For thanne comth the blanche fievere, With chele and makth me so to chievere, 240 And so it coldeth at myn herte, That wonder is hou I asterte, In such a point that I ne deie: For certes ther was nevere keie Ne frosen ys upon the wal More inly cold that I am al. And thus soffre I the hote chele, Which passeth othre peines fele; In cold I brenne and frese in hete: And thanne I drinke a biter swete 250 With dreie lippe and yhen wete. Lo, thus I tempre mi diete, And take a drauhte of such reles, That al mi wit is herteles, And al myn herte, ther it sit, Is, as who seith, withoute wit; So that to prove it be reson In makinge of comparison Ther mai no difference be Betwen a drunke man and me. 260 Bot al the worste of everychon Is evere that I thurste in on; The more that myn herte drinketh, The more I may; so that me thinketh, My thurst schal nevere ben aqueint. God schilde that I be noght dreint Of such a superfluite: For wel I fiele in mi degre That al mi wit is overcast, Wherof I am the more agast, 270 That in defaulte of ladischipe Per chance in such a drunkeschipe I mai be ded er I be war. For certes, fader, this I dar Beknowe and in mi schrifte telle: Bot I a drauhte have of that welle, In which mi deth is and mi lif, Mi joie is torned into strif, That sobre schal I nevere worthe, Bot as a drunke man forworthe; 280 So that in londe where I fare The lust is lore of mi welfare, As he that mai no bote finde. Bot this me thenkth a wonder kinde, As I am drunke of that I drinke, So am I ek for falte of drinke; Of which I finde no reles: Bot if I myhte natheles Of such a drinke as I coveite, So as me liste, have o receite, 290 I scholde assobre and fare wel. Bot so fortune upon hire whiel On hih me deigneth noght to sette, For everemore I finde a lette: The boteler is noght mi frend, Which hath the keie be the bend; I mai wel wisshe and that is wast, For wel I wot, so freissh a tast, Bot if mi grace be the more, I schal assaie neveremore. 300 Thus am I drunke of that I se, For tastinge is defended me, And I can noght miselven stanche: So that, mi fader, of this branche I am gultif, to telle trouthe.

Mi Sone, that me thenketh routhe; For lovedrunke is the meschief Above alle othre the most chief, If he no lusti thoght assaie, Which mai his sori thurst allaie: 310 As for the time yit it lisseth To him which other joie misseth. Forthi, mi Sone, aboven alle Thenk wel, hou so it the befalle, And kep thi wittes that thou hast, And let hem noght be drunke in wast: Bot natheles ther is no wyht That mai withstonde loves miht. Bot why the cause is, as I finde, Of that ther is diverse kinde 320 Of lovedrunke, why men pleigneth After the court which al ordeigneth, I wol the tellen the manere; Nou lest, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere.

For the fortune of every chance After the goddes pourveance To man it groweth from above, So that the sped of every love Is schape there, er it befalle. For Jupiter aboven alle, 330 Which is of goddes soverein, Hath in his celier, as men sein, Tuo tonnes fulle of love drinke, That maken many an herte sinke And many an herte also to flete, Or of the soure or of the swete. That on is full of such piment, Which passeth all entendement Of mannes witt, if he it taste, And makth a jolif herte in haste: 340 That other biter as the galle, Which makth a mannes herte palle, Whos drunkeschipe is a sieknesse Thurgh fielinge of the biternesse. Cupide is boteler of bothe, Which to the lieve and to the lothe Yifth of the swete and of the soure, That some lawhe, and some loure. Bot for so moche as he blind is, Fulofte time he goth amis 350 And takth the badde for the goode, Which hindreth many a mannes fode Withoute cause, and forthreth eke. So be ther some of love seke, Whiche oghte of reson to ben hole, And some comen to the dole In happ and as hemselve leste Drinke undeserved of the beste. And thus this blinde Boteler Yifth of the trouble in stede of cler 360 And ek the cler in stede of trouble: Lo, hou he can the hertes trouble, And makth men drunke al upon chaunce Withoute lawe of governance. If he drawe of the swete tonne, Thanne is the sorwe al overronne Of lovedrunke, and schalt noght greven So to be drunken every even, For al is thanne bot a game. Bot whanne it is noght of the same, 370 And he the biter tonne draweth, Such drunkeschipe an herte gnaweth And fiebleth al a mannes thoght, That betre him were have drunke noght And al his bred have eten dreie; For thanne he lest his lusti weie With drunkeschipe, and wot noght whider To go, the weies ben so slider, In which he mai per cas so falle, That he schal breke his wittes alle. 380 And in this wise men be drunke After the drink that thei have drunke: Bot alle drinken noght alike, For som schal singe and som schal syke, So that it me nothing merveilleth, Mi Sone, of love that thee eilleth; For wel I knowe be thi tale, That thou hast drunken of the duale, Which biter is, til god the sende Such grace that thou miht amende. 390

Bot, Sone, thou schalt bidde and preie In such a wise as I schal seie, That thou the lusti welle atteigne Thi wofull thurstes to restreigne Of love, and taste the swetnesse; As Bachus dede in his distresse, Whan bodiliche thurst him hente In strange londes where he wente. This Bachus Sone of Jupiter Was hote, and as he wente fer 400 Be his fadres assignement To make a werre in Orient, And gret pouer with him he ladde, So that the heiere hond he hadde And victoire of his enemys, And torneth homward with his pris, In such a contre which was dreie A meschief fell upon the weie. As he rod with his compainie Nyh to the strondes of Lubie, 410 Ther myhte thei no drinke finde Of water nor of other kinde, So that himself and al his host Were of defalte of drinke almost Destruid, and thanne Bachus preide To Jupiter, and thus he seide: “O hihe fader, that sest al, To whom is reson that I schal Beseche and preie in every nede, Behold, mi fader, and tak hiede 420 This wofull thurst that we ben inne To staunche, and grante ous forto winne, And sauf unto the contre fare, Wher that oure lusti loves are Waitende upon oure hom cominge.” And with the vois of his preiynge, Which herd was to the goddes hihe, He syh anon tofore his yhe A wether, which the ground hath sporned; And wher he hath it overtorned, 430 Ther sprang a welle freissh and cler, Wherof his oghne boteler After the lustes of his wille Was every man to drinke his fille. And for this ilke grete grace Bachus upon the same place A riche temple let arere, Which evere scholde stonde there To thursti men in remembrance.

Forthi, mi Sone, after this chance 440 It sit thee wel to taken hiede So forto preie upon thi nede, As Bachus preide for the welle; And thenk, as thou hast herd me telle, Hou grace he gradde and grace he hadde. He was no fol that ferst so radde, For selden get a domb man lond: Tak that proverbe, and understond That wordes ben of vertu grete. Forthi to speke thou ne lete, 450 And axe and prei erli and late Thi thurst to quenche, and thenk algate, The boteler which berth the keie Is blind, as thou hast herd me seie; And if it mihte so betyde, That he upon the blinde side Per cas the swete tonne arauhte, Than schalt thou have a lusti drauhte And waxe of lovedrunke sobre. And thus I rede thou assobre 460 Thin herte in hope of such a grace; For drunkeschipe in every place, To whether side that it torne, Doth harm and makth a man to sporne And ofte falle in such a wise, Wher he per cas mai noght arise.

And forto loke in evidence Upon the sothe experience, So as it hath befalle er this, In every mannes mouth it is 470 Hou Tristram was of love drunke With Bele Ysolde, whan thei drunke The drink which Brangwein hem betok, Er that king Marc his Eem hire tok To wyve, as it was after knowe. And ek, mi Sone, if thou wolt knowe, As it hath fallen overmore In loves cause, and what is more Of drunkeschipe forto drede, As it whilom befell in dede, 480 Wherof thou miht the betre eschuie Of drunke men that thou ne suie The compaignie in no manere, A gret ensample thou schalt hiere.

This finde I write in Poesie Of thilke faire Ipotacie, Of whos beaute ther as sche was Spak every man,—and fell per cas, That Pirotous so him spedde, That he to wyve hire scholde wedde, 490 Wherof that he gret joie made. And for he wolde his love glade, Ayein the day of mariage Be mouthe bothe and be message Hise frendes to the feste he preide, With gret worschipe and, as men seide, He hath this yonge ladi spoused. And whan that thei were alle housed, And set and served ate mete, Ther was no wyn which mai be gete, 500 That ther ne was plente ynouh: Bot Bachus thilke tonne drouh, Wherof be weie of drunkeschipe The greteste of the felaschipe Were oute of reson overtake; And Venus, which hath also take The cause most in special, Hath yove hem drinke forth withal Of thilke cuppe which exciteth The lust wherinne a man deliteth: 510 And thus be double weie drunke, Of lust that ilke fyri funke Hath mad hem, as who seith, halfwode, That thei no reson understode, Ne to non other thing thei syhen, Bot hire, which tofore here yhen Was wedded thilke same day, That freisshe wif, that lusti May, On hire it was al that thei thoghten. And so ferforth here lustes soghten, 520 That thei the whiche named were Centauri, ate feste there Of on assent, of an acord This yonge wif malgre hire lord In such a rage awei forth ladden, As thei whiche non insihte hadden Bot only to her drunke fare, Which many a man hath mad misfare In love als wel as other weie. Wherof, if I schal more seie 530 Upon the nature of the vice, Of custume and of exercice The mannes grace hou it fordoth, A tale, which was whilom soth, Of fooles that so drunken were, I schal reherce unto thine Ere.

I rede in a Cronique thus Of Galba and of Vitellus, The whiche of Spaigne bothe were The greteste of alle othre there, 540 And bothe of o condicion After the disposicion Of glotonie and drunkeschipe. That was a sori felaschipe: For this thou miht wel understonde, That man mai wel noght longe stonde Which is wyndrunke of comun us; For he hath lore the vertus, Wherof reson him scholde clothe; And that was seene upon hem bothe. 550 Men sein ther is non evidence, Wherof to knowe a difference Betwen the drunken and the wode, For thei be nevere nouther goode; For wher that wyn doth wit aweie, Wisdom hath lost the rihte weie, That he no maner vice dredeth; Nomore than a blind man thredeth His nedle be the Sonnes lyht, Nomore is reson thanne of myht, 560 Whan he with drunkeschipe is blent. And in this point thei weren schent, This Galba bothe and ek Vitelle, Upon the cause as I schal telle, Wherof good is to taken hiede. For thei tuo thurgh her drunkenhiede Of witles excitacioun Oppressede al the nacion Of Spaigne; for of fool usance, Which don was of continuance 570 Of hem, whiche alday drunken were, Ther was no wif ne maiden there, What so thei were, or faire or foule, Whom thei ne token to defoule, Wherof the lond was often wo: And ek in othre thinges mo Thei wroghten many a sondri wrong. Bot hou so that the dai be long, The derke nyht comth ate laste: God wolde noght thei scholden laste, 580 And schop the lawe in such a wise, That thei thurgh dom to the juise Be dampned forto be forlore. Bot thei, that hadden ben tofore Enclin to alle drunkenesse,— Here ende thanne bar witnesse; For thei in hope to assuage The peine of deth, upon the rage That thei the lasse scholden fiele, Of wyn let fille full a Miele, 590 And dronken til so was befalle That thei her strengthes losten alle Withouten wit of eny brain; And thus thei ben halfdede slain, That hem ne grieveth bot a lyte.

Mi Sone, if thou be forto wyte In eny point which I have seid, Wherof thi wittes ben unteid, I rede clepe hem hom ayein.

I schal do, fader, as ye sein, 600 Als ferforth as I mai suffise: Bot wel I wot that in no wise The drunkeschipe of love aweie I mai remue be no weie, It stant noght upon my fortune. Bot if you liste to comune Of the seconde Glotonie, Which cleped is Delicacie, Wherof ye spieken hier tofore, Beseche I wolde you therfore. 610

Mi Sone, as of that ilke vice, Which of alle othre is the Norrice, And stant upon the retenue Of Venus, so as it is due, The proprete hou that it fareth The bok hierafter nou declareth.

Of this chapitre in which we trete There is yit on of such diete, To which no povere mai atteigne; For al is Past of paindemeine 620 And sondri wyn and sondri drinke, Wherof that he wole ete and drinke: Hise cokes ben for him affaited, So that his body is awaited, That him schal lacke no delit, Als ferforth as his appetit Sufficeth to the metes hote. Wherof this lusti vice is hote Of Gule the Delicacie, Which al the hole progenie 630 Of lusti folk hath undertake To feede, whil that he mai take Richesses wherof to be founde: Of Abstinence he wot no bounde, To what profit it scholde serve. And yit phisique of his conserve Makth many a restauracioun Unto his recreacioun, Which wolde be to Venus lief. Thus for the point of his relief 640 The coc which schal his mete arraie, Bot he the betre his mouth assaie, His lordes thonk schal ofte lese, Er he be served to the chese: For ther mai lacke noght so lyte, That he ne fint anon a wyte; For bot his lust be fully served, Ther hath no wiht his thonk deserved. And yit for mannes sustenance, To kepe and holde in governance, 650 To him that wole his hele gete Is non so good as comun mete: For who that loketh on the bokes, It seith, confeccion of cokes, A man him scholde wel avise Hou he it toke and in what wise. For who that useth that he knoweth, Ful selden seknesse on him groweth, And who that useth metes strange, Though his nature empeire and change 660 It is no wonder, lieve Sone, Whan that he doth ayein his wone; For in Phisique this I finde, Usage is the seconde kinde.

And riht so changeth his astat He that of love is delicat: For though he hadde to his hond The beste wif of al the lond, Or the faireste love of alle, Yit wolde his herte on othre falle 670 And thenke hem mor delicious Than he hath in his oghne hous: Men sein it is nou ofte so; Avise hem wel, thei that so do. And forto speke in other weie, Fulofte time I have herd seie, That he which hath no love achieved, Him thenkth that he is noght relieved, Thogh that his ladi make him chiere, So as sche mai in good manere 680 Hir honour and hir name save, Bot he the surplus mihte have. Nothing withstondende hire astat, Of love more delicat He set hire chiere at no delit, Bot he have al his appetit.

Mi Sone, if it be with thee so, Tell me.

Myn holi fader, no: For delicat in such a wise Of love, as ye to me devise, 690 Ne was I nevere yit gultif; For if I hadde such a wif As ye speke of, what scholde I more? For thanne I wolde neveremore For lust of eny wommanhiede Myn herte upon non other fiede: And if I dede, it were a wast. Bot al withoute such repast Of lust, as ye me tolde above, Of wif, or yit of other love, 700 I faste, and mai no fode gete; So that for lacke of deinte mete, Of which an herte mai be fedd, I go fastende to my bedd. Bot myhte I geten, as ye tolde, So mochel that mi ladi wolde Me fede with hir glad semblant, Though me lacke al the remenant, Yit scholde I somdel ben abeched And for the time wel refreched. 710 Bot certes, fader, sche ne doth; For in good feith, to telle soth, I trowe, thogh I scholde sterve, Sche wolde noght hire yhe swerve, Min herte with o goodly lok To fede, and thus for such a cok I mai go fastinge everemo: Bot if so is that eny wo Mai fede a mannes herte wel, Therof I have at every meel 720 Of plente more than ynowh; Bot that is of himself so towh, Mi stomac mai it noght defie. Lo, such is the delicacie Of love, which myn herte fedeth; Thus have I lacke of that me nedeth.

Bot for al this yit natheles I seie noght I am gylteles, That I somdel am delicat: For elles were I fulli mat, 730 Bot if that I som lusti stounde Of confort and of ese founde, To take of love som repast; For thogh I with the fulle tast The lust of love mai noght fiele, Min hunger otherwise I kiele Of smale lustes whiche I pike, And for a time yit thei like; If that ye wisten what I mene.

Nou, goode Sone, schrif thee clene 740 Of suche deyntes as ben goode, Wherof thou takst thin hertes fode.

Mi fader, I you schal reherce, Hou that mi fodes ben diverse, So as thei fallen in degre. O fiedinge is of that I se, An other is of that I here, The thridde, as I schal tellen here, It groweth of min oghne thoght: And elles scholde I live noght; 750 For whom that failleth fode of herte, He mai noght wel the deth asterte.

Of sihte is al mi ferste fode, Thurgh which myn yhe of alle goode Hath that to him is acordant, A lusti fode sufficant. Whan that I go toward the place Wher I schal se my ladi face, Min yhe, which is loth to faste, Beginth to hungre anon so faste, 760 That him thenkth of on houre thre, Til I ther come and he hire se: And thanne after his appetit He takth a fode of such delit, That him non other deynte nedeth. Of sondri sihtes he him fedeth: He seth hire face of such colour, That freisshere is than eny flour, He seth hire front is large and plein Withoute fronce of eny grein, 770 He seth hire yhen lich an hevene, He seth hire nase strauht and evene, He seth hire rode upon the cheke, He seth hire rede lippes eke, Hire chyn acordeth to the face, Al that he seth is full of grace, He seth hire necke round and clene, Therinne mai no bon be sene, He seth hire handes faire and whyte; For al this thing withoute wyte 780 He mai se naked ate leste, So is it wel the more feste And wel the mor Delicacie Unto the fiedinge of myn yhe. He seth hire schapthe forth withal, Hire bodi round, hire middel smal, So wel begon with good array, Which passeth al the lust of Maii, Whan he is most with softe schoures Ful clothed in his lusti floures. 790 With suche sihtes by and by Min yhe is fed; bot finaly, Whan he the port and the manere Seth of hire wommanysshe chere, Than hath he such delice on honde, Him thenkth he mihte stille stonde, And that he hath ful sufficance Of liflode and of sustienance As to his part for everemo. And if it thoghte alle othre so, 800 Fro thenne wolde he nevere wende, Bot there unto the worldes ende He wolde abyde, if that he mihte, And fieden him upon the syhte. For thogh I mihte stonden ay Into the time of domesday And loke upon hire evere in on, Yit whanne I scholde fro hire gon, Min yhe wolde, as thogh he faste, Ben hungerstorven al so faste, 810 Til efte ayein that he hire syhe. Such is the nature of myn yhe: Ther is no lust so deintefull, Of which a man schal noght be full, Of that the stomac underfongeth, Bot evere in on myn yhe longeth: For loke hou that a goshauk tireth, Riht so doth he, whan that he pireth And toteth on hire wommanhiede; For he mai nevere fulli fiede 820 His lust, bot evere aliche sore Him hungreth, so that he the more Desireth to be fed algate: And thus myn yhe is mad the gate, Thurgh which the deyntes of my thoght Of lust ben to myn herte broght.

Riht as myn yhe with his lok Is to myn herte a lusti coc Of loves fode delicat, Riht so myn Ere in his astat, 830 Wher as myn yhe mai noght serve, Can wel myn hertes thonk deserve And fieden him fro day to day With suche deyntes as he may. For thus it is, that overal, Wher as I come in special, I mai hiere of mi ladi pris; I hiere on seith that sche is wys, An other seith that sche is good, And som men sein, of worthi blod 840 That sche is come, and is also So fair, that nawher is non so; And som men preise hire goodli chiere: Thus every thing that I mai hiere, Which souneth to mi ladi goode, Is to myn Ere a lusti foode. And ek min Ere hath over this A deynte feste, whan so is That I mai hiere hirselve speke; For thanne anon mi faste I breke 850 On suche wordes as sche seith, That full of trouthe and full of feith Thei ben, and of so good desport, That to myn Ere gret confort Thei don, as thei that ben delices. For al the metes and the spices, That eny Lombard couthe make, Ne be so lusti forto take Ne so ferforth restauratif, I seie as for myn oghne lif, 860 As ben the wordes of hire mouth: For as the wyndes of the South Ben most of alle debonaire, So whan hir list to speke faire, The vertu of hire goodly speche Is verraily myn hertes leche. And if it so befalle among, That sche carole upon a song, Whan I it hiere I am so fedd, That I am fro miself so ledd, 870 As thogh I were in paradis; For certes, as to myn avis, Whan I here of hir vois the stevene, Me thenkth it is a blisse of hevene.

And ek in other wise also Fulofte time it falleth so, Min Ere with a good pitance Is fedd of redinge of romance Of Ydoine and of Amadas, That whilom weren in mi cas, 880 And eke of othre many a score, That loveden longe er I was bore. For whan I of here loves rede, Min Ere with the tale I fede; And with the lust of here histoire Somtime I drawe into memoire Hou sorwe mai noght evere laste; And so comth hope in ate laste, Whan I non other fode knowe. And that endureth bot a throwe, 890 Riht as it were a cherie feste; Bot forto compten ate leste, As for the while yit it eseth And somdel of myn herte appeseth: For what thing to myn Ere spreedeth, Which is plesant, somdel it feedeth With wordes suche as he mai gete Mi lust, in stede of other mete.

Lo thus, mi fader, as I seie, Of lust the which myn yhe hath seie, 900 And ek of that myn Ere hath herd, Fulofte I have the betre ferd. And tho tuo bringen in the thridde, The which hath in myn herte amidde His place take, to arraie The lusti fode, which assaie I mot; and nameliche on nyhtes, Whan that me lacketh alle sihtes, And that myn heringe is aweie, Thanne is he redy in the weie 910 Mi reresouper forto make, Of which myn hertes fode I take.

This lusti cokes name is hote Thoght, which hath evere hise pottes hote Of love buillende on the fyr With fantasie and with desir, Of whiche er this fulofte he fedde Min herte, whanne I was abedde; And thanne he set upon my bord Bothe every syhte and every word 920 Of lust, which I have herd or sein. Bot yit is noght mi feste al plein, Bot al of woldes and of wisshes, Therof have I my fulle disshes, Bot as of fielinge and of tast, Yit mihte I nevere have o repast. And thus, as I have seid aforn, I licke hony on the thorn, And as who seith, upon the bridel I chiewe, so that al is ydel 930 As in effect the fode I have. Bot as a man that wolde him save, Whan he is seck, be medicine, Riht so of love the famine I fonde in al that evere I mai To fiede and dryve forth the day, Til I mai have the grete feste, Which al myn hunger myhte areste.

Lo suche ben mi lustes thre; Of that I thenke and hiere and se 940 I take of love my fiedinge Withoute tastinge or fielinge: And as the Plover doth of Eir I live, and am in good espeir That for no such delicacie I trowe I do no glotonie. And natheles to youre avis, Min holi fader, that be wis, I recomande myn astat Of that I have be delicat. 950

Mi Sone, I understonde wel That thou hast told hier everydel, And as me thenketh be thi tale, It ben delices wonder smale, Wherof thou takst thi loves fode. Bot, Sone, if that thou understode What is to ben delicious, Thou woldest noght be curious Upon the lust of thin astat To ben to sore delicat, 960 Wherof that thou reson excede: For in the bokes thou myht rede, If mannes wisdom schal be suied, It oghte wel to ben eschuied In love als wel as other weie; For, as these holi bokes seie, The bodely delices alle In every point, hou so thei falle, Unto the Soule don grievance. And forto take in remembrance, 970 A tale acordant unto this, Which of gret understondinge is To mannes soule resonable, I thenke telle, and is no fable.

Of Cristes word, who wole it rede, Hou that this vice is forto drede In thevangile it telleth plein, Which mot algate be certein, For Crist himself it berth witnesse. And thogh the clerk and the clergesse 980 In latin tunge it rede and singe, Yit for the more knoulechinge Of trouthe, which is good to wite, I schal declare as it is write In Engleissh, for thus it began.

Crist seith: “Ther was a riche man, A mihti lord of gret astat, And he was ek so delicat Of his clothing, that everyday Of pourpre and bisse he made him gay, 990 And eet and drank therto his fille After the lustes of his wille, As he which al stod in delice And tok non hiede of thilke vice. And as it scholde so betyde, A povere lazre upon a tyde Cam to the gate and axed mete: Bot there mihte he nothing gete His dedly hunger forto stanche; For he, which hadde his fulle panche 1000 Of alle lustes ate bord, Ne deigneth noght to speke a word, Onliche a Crumme forto yive, Wherof the povere myhte live Upon the yifte of his almesse. Thus lai this povere in gret destresse Acold and hungred ate gate, Fro which he mihte go no gate, So was he wofulli besein. And as these holi bokes sein, 1010 The houndes comen fro the halle, Wher that this sike man was falle, And as he lay ther forto die, The woundes of his maladie Thei licken forto don him ese. Bot he was full of such desese, That he mai noght the deth eschape; Bot as it was that time schape, The Soule fro the bodi passeth, And he whom nothing overpasseth, 1020 The hihe god, up to the hevene Him tok, wher he hath set him evene In Habrahammes barm on hyh, Wher he the hevene joie syh And hadde al that he have wolde.

And fell, as it befalle scholde, This riche man the same throwe With soudein deth was overthrowe, And forth withouten eny wente Into the helle straght he wente; 1030 The fend into the fyr him drouh, Wher that he hadde peine ynouh Of flamme which that evere brenneth. And as his yhe aboute renneth, Toward the hevene he cast his lok, Wher that he syh and hiede tok Hou Lazar set was in his Se Als ferr as evere he mihte se With Habraham; and thanne he preide Unto the Patriarch and seide: 1040 “Send Lazar doun fro thilke Sete, And do that he his finger wete In water, so that he mai droppe Upon my tunge, forto stoppe The grete hete in which I brenne.” Bot Habraham answerde thenne And seide to him in this wise: “Mi Sone, thou thee miht avise And take into thi remembrance, Hou Lazar hadde gret penance, 1050 Whyl he was in that other lif, Bot thou in al thi lust jolif The bodily delices soghtest: Forthi, so as thou thanne wroghtest, Nou schalt thou take thi reward Of dedly peine hierafterward In helle, which schal evere laste; And this Lazar nou ate laste The worldes peine is overronne, In hevene and hath his lif begonne 1060 Of joie, which is endeles. Bot that thou preidest natheles, That I schal Lazar to the sende With water on his finger ende, Thin hote tunge forto kiele, Thou schalt no such graces fiele; For to that foule place of Sinne, For evere in which thou schalt ben inne, Comth non out of this place thider, Ne non of you mai comen hider; 1070 Thus be yee parted nou atuo.”

The riche ayeinward cride tho: “O Habraham, sithe it so is, That Lazar mai noght do me this Which I have axed in this place, I wolde preie an other grace. For I have yit of brethren fyve, That with mi fader ben alyve Togedre duellende in on hous; To whom, as thou art gracious, 1080 I preie that thou woldest sende Lazar, so that he mihte wende To warne hem hou the world is went, That afterward thei be noght schent Of suche peines as I drye. Lo, this I preie and this I crie, Now I may noght miself amende.”

The Patriarch anon suiende To his preiere ansuerde nay; And seide him hou that everyday 1090 His brethren mihten knowe and hiere Of Moises on Erthe hiere And of prophetes othre mo, What hem was best. And he seith no; Bot if ther mihte a man aryse Fro deth to lyve in such a wise, To tellen hem hou that it were, He seide hou thanne of pure fere Thei scholden wel be war therby.

Quod Habraham: “Nay sikerly; 1100 For if thei nou wol noght obeie To suche as techen hem the weie, And alday preche and alday telle Hou that it stant of hevene and helle, Thei wol noght thanne taken hiede, Thogh it befelle so in dede That eny ded man were arered, To ben of him no betre lered Than of an other man alyve.”

If thou, mi Sone, canst descryve 1110 This tale, as Crist himself it tolde, Thou schalt have cause to beholde, To se so gret an evidence, Wherof the sothe experience Hath schewed openliche at ije, That bodili delicacie Of him which yeveth non almesse Schal after falle in gret destresse. And that was sene upon the riche: For he ne wolde unto his liche 1120 A Crumme yiven of his bred, Thanne afterward, whan he was ded, A drope of water him was werned. Thus mai a mannes wit be lerned Of hem that so delices taken; Whan thei with deth ben overtaken, That erst was swete is thanne sour. Bot he that is a governour Of worldes good, if he be wys, Withinne his herte he set no pris 1130 Of al the world, and yit he useth The good, that he nothing refuseth, As he which lord is of the thinges. The Nouches and the riche ringes, The cloth of gold and the Perrie He takth, and yit delicacie He leveth, thogh he were al this. The beste mete that ther is He ett, and drinkth the beste drinke; Bot hou that evere he ete or drinke, 1140 Delicacie he put aweie, As he which goth the rihte weie Noght only forto fiede and clothe His bodi, bot his soule bothe. Bot thei that taken otherwise Here lustes, ben none of the wise; And that whilom was schewed eke, If thou these olde bokes seke, Als wel be reson as be kinde, Of olde ensample as men mai finde. 1150

What man that wolde him wel avise, Delicacie is to despise, Whan kinde acordeth noght withal; Wherof ensample in special Of Nero whilom mai be told, Which ayein kinde manyfold Hise lustes tok, til ate laste That god him wolde al overcaste; Of whom the Cronique is so plein, Me list nomore of him to sein. 1160 And natheles for glotonie Of bodili Delicacie, To knowe his stomak hou it ferde, Of that noman tofore herde, Which he withinne himself bethoghte, A wonder soubtil thing he wroghte.

Thre men upon eleccioun Of age and of complexioun Lich to himself be alle weie He tok towardes him to pleie, 1170 And ete and drinke als wel as he. Therof was no diversite; For every day whan that thei eete, Tofore his oghne bord thei seete, And of such mete as he was served, Althogh thei hadde it noght deserved, Thei token service of the same. Bot afterward al thilke game Was into wofull ernest torned; For whan thei weren thus sojorned, 1180 Withinne a time at after mete Nero, which hadde noght foryete The lustes of his frele astat, As he which al was delicat, To knowe thilke experience, The men let come in his presence: And to that on the same tyde, A courser that he scholde ryde Into the feld, anon he bad; Wherof this man was wonder glad, 1190 And goth to prike and prance aboute. That other, whil that he was oute, He leide upon his bedd to slepe: The thridde, which he wolde kepe Withinne his chambre, faire and softe He goth now doun nou up fulofte, Walkende a pass, that he ne slepte, Til he which on the courser lepte Was come fro the field ayein. Nero thanne, as the bokes sein, 1200 These men doth taken alle thre And slouh hem, for he wolde se The whos stomak was best defied: And whanne he hath the sothe tryed, He fond that he which goth the pass Defyed best of alle was, Which afterward he usede ay.

And thus what thing unto his pay Was most plesant, he lefte non: With every lust he was begon, 1210 Wherof the bodi myhte glade, For he non abstinence made; Bot most above alle erthli thinges Of wommen unto the likinges Nero sette al his hole herte, For that lust scholde him noght asterte. Whan that the thurst of love him cawhte, Wher that him list he tok a drauhte, He spareth nouther wif ne maide, That such an other, as men saide, 1220 In al this world was nevere yit. He was so drunke in al his wit Thurgh sondri lustes whiche he tok, That evere, whil ther is a bok, Of Nero men schul rede and singe Unto the worldes knowlechinge, Mi goode Sone, as thou hast herd. For evere yit it hath so ferd, Delicacie in loves cas Withoute reson is and was; 1230 For wher that love his herte set, Him thenkth it myhte be no bet; And thogh it be noght fulli mete, The lust of love is evere swete.

Lo, thus togedre of felaschipe Delicacie and drunkeschipe, Wherof reson stant out of herre, Have mad full many a wisman erre In loves cause most of alle: For thanne hou so that evere it falle, 1240 Wit can no reson understonde, Bot let the governance stonde To Will, which thanne wext so wylde, That he can noght himselve schylde Fro no peril, bot out of feere The weie he secheth hiere and there, Him recheth noght upon what syde: For oftetime he goth beside, And doth such thing withoute drede, Wherof him oghte wel to drede. 1250 Bot whan that love assoteth sore, It passeth alle mennes lore; What lust it is that he ordeigneth, Ther is no mannes miht restreigneth, And of the godd takth he non hiede: Bot laweles withoute drede, His pourpos for he wolde achieve Ayeins the pointz of the believe, He tempteth hevene and erthe and helle, Hierafterward as I schall telle. 1260

Who dar do thing which love ne dar? To love is every lawe unwar, Bot to the lawes of his heste The fissch, the foul, the man, the beste Of al the worldes kinde louteth. For love is he which nothing douteth: In mannes herte where he sit, He compteth noght toward his wit The wo nomore than the wele, No mor the hete than the chele, 1270 No mor the wete than the dreie, No mor to live than to deie, So that tofore ne behinde He seth nothing, bot as the blinde Withoute insyhte of his corage He doth merveilles in his rage. To what thing that he wole him drawe, Ther is no god, ther is no lawe, Of whom that he takth eny hiede; Bot as Baiard the blinde stede, 1280 Til he falle in the dich amidde, He goth ther noman wole him bidde; He stant so ferforth out of reule, Ther is no wit that mai him reule. And thus to telle of him in soth, Ful many a wonder thing he doth, That were betre to be laft, Among the whiche is wicchecraft, That som men clepen Sorcerie, Which forto winne his druerie 1290 With many a circumstance he useth, Ther is no point which he refuseth.

The craft which that Saturnus fond, To make prickes in the Sond, That Geomance cleped is, Fulofte he useth it amis; And of the flod his Ydromance, And of the fyr the Piromance, With questions echon of tho He tempteth ofte, and ek also 1300 Aëremance in juggement To love he bringth of his assent: For these craftes, as I finde, A man mai do be weie of kinde, Be so it be to good entente. Bot he goth al an other wente; For rathere er he scholde faile, With Nigromance he wole assaile To make his incantacioun With hot subfumigacioun. 1310 Thilke art which Spatula is hote, And used is of comun rote Among Paiens, with that craft ek Of which is Auctor Thosz the Grek, He worcheth on and on be rowe: Razel is noght to him unknowe, Ne Salomones Candarie, His Ydeac, his Eutonye; The figure and the bok withal Of Balamuz, and of Ghenbal 1320 The Seal, and therupon thymage Of Thebith, for his avantage He takth, and somwhat of Gibiere, Which helplich is to this matiere. Babilla with hire Sones sevene, Which hath renonced to the hevene, With Cernes bothe square and rounde, He traceth ofte upon the grounde, Makende his invocacioun; And for full enformacioun 1330 The Scole which Honorius Wrot, he poursuieth: and lo, thus Magique he useth forto winne His love, and spareth for no Sinne. And over that of his Sotie, Riht as he secheth Sorcerie Of hem that ben Magiciens, Riht so of the Naturiens Upon the Sterres from above His weie he secheth unto love, 1340 Als fer as he hem understondeth. In many a sondry wise he fondeth: He makth ymage, he makth sculpture, He makth writinge, he makth figure, He makth his calculacions, He makth his demonstracions; His houres of Astronomie He kepeth as for that partie Which longeth to thinspeccion Of love and his affeccion; 1350 He wolde into the helle seche The devel himselve to beseche, If that he wiste forto spede, To gete of love his lusti mede: Wher that he hath his herte set, He bede nevere fare bet Ne wite of other hevene more.

Mi Sone, if thou of such a lore Hast ben er this, I red thee leve.

Min holi fader, be youre leve 1360 Of al that ye have spoken hiere Which toucheth unto this matiere, To telle soth riht as I wene, I wot noght o word what ye mene. I wol noght seie, if that I couthe, That I nolde in mi lusti youthe Benethe in helle and ek above To winne with mi ladi love Don al that evere that I mihte; For therof have I non insihte 1370 Wher afterward that I become, To that I wonne and overcome Hire love, which I most coveite.

Mi Sone, that goth wonder streite: For this I mai wel telle soth, Ther is noman the which so doth, For al the craft that he can caste, That he nabeith it ate laste. For often he that wol beguile Is guiled with the same guile, 1380 And thus the guilour is beguiled; As I finde in a bok compiled To this matiere an old histoire, The which comth nou to mi memoire, And is of gret essamplerie Ayein the vice of Sorcerie, Wherof non ende mai be good. Bot hou whilom therof it stod, A tale which is good to knowe To thee, mi Sone, I schal beknowe. 1390

Among hem whiche at Troie were, Uluxes ate Siege there Was on be name in special; Of whom yit the memorial Abit, for whyl ther is a mouth, For evere his name schal be couth. He was a worthi knyht and king And clerk knowende of every thing; He was a gret rethorien, He was a gret magicien; 1400 Of Tullius the rethorique, Of king Zorastes the magique, Of Tholome thastronomie, Of Plato the Philosophie, Of Daniel the slepi dremes, Of Neptune ek the water stremes, Of Salomon and the proverbes, Of Macer al the strengthe of herbes, And the Phisique of Ypocras, And lich unto Pictagoras 1410 Of Surgerie he knew the cures. Bot somwhat of his aventures, Which schal to mi matiere acorde, To thee, mi Sone, I wol recorde.

This king, of which thou hast herd sein, Fro Troie as he goth hom ayein Be Schipe, he fond the See divers, With many a wyndi storm revers. Bot he thurgh wisdom that he schapeth Ful many a gret peril ascapeth, 1420 Of whiche I thenke tellen on, Hou that malgre the nedle and ston Wynddrive he was al soudeinly Upon the strondes of Cilly, Wher that he moste abyde a whyle. Tuo queenes weren in that yle Calipsa named and Circes; And whan they herde hou Uluxes Is londed ther upon the ryve, For him thei senden als so blive. 1430 With him suche as he wolde he nam And to the court to hem he cam. Thes queenes were as tuo goddesses Of Art magique Sorceresses, That what lord comth to that rivage, Thei make him love in such a rage And upon hem assote so, That thei wol have, er that he go, Al that he hath of worldes good. Uluxes wel this understod, 1440 Thei couthe moche, he couthe more; Thei schape and caste ayein him sore And wroghte many a soutil wyle, Bot yit thei mihte him noght beguile. Bot of the men of his navie Thei tuo forschope a gret partie, Mai non of hem withstonde here hestes; Som part thei schopen into bestes, Som part thei schopen into foules, To beres, tigres, Apes, oules, 1450 Or elles be som other weie; Ther myhte hem nothing desobeie, Such craft thei hadde above kinde. Bot that Art couthe thei noght finde, Of which Uluxes was deceived, That he ne hath hem alle weyved, And broght hem into such a rote, That upon him thei bothe assote; And thurgh the science of his art He tok of hem so wel his part, 1460 That he begat Circes with childe. He kepte him sobre and made hem wilde, He sette himselve so above, That with here good and with here love, Who that therof be lief or loth, Al quit into his Schip he goth. Circes toswolle bothe sides He lefte, and waiteth on the tydes, And straght thurghout the salte fom He takth his cours and comth him hom, 1470 Where as he fond Penolope; A betre wif ther mai non be, And yit ther ben ynowhe of goode. Bot who hir goodschipe understode Fro ferst that sche wifhode tok, Hou many loves sche forsok And hou sche bar hire al aboute, Ther whiles that hire lord was oute, He mihte make a gret avant Amonges al the remenant 1480 That sche was on of al the beste. Wel myhte he sette his herte in reste, This king, whan he hir fond in hele; For as he couthe in wisdom dele, So couthe sche in wommanhiede: And whan sche syh withoute drede Hire lord upon his oghne ground, That he was come sauf and sound, In al this world ne mihte be A gladdere womman than was sche. 1490

The fame, which mai noght ben hidd, Thurghout the lond is sone kidd, Here king is come hom ayein: Ther mai noman the fulle sein, Hou that thei weren alle glade, So mochel joie of him thei made. The presens every day be newed, He was with yiftes al besnewed; The poeple was of him so glad, That thogh non other man hem bad, 1500 Taillage upon hemself thei sette, And as it were of pure dette Thei yeve here goodes to the king: This was a glad hom welcomyng. Thus hath Uluxes what he wolde, His wif was such as sche be scholde, His poeple was to him sougit, Him lacketh nothing of delit.

Bot fortune is of such a sleyhte, That whan a man is most on heyhte, 1510 Sche makth him rathest forto falle: Ther wot noman what schal befalle, The happes over mannes hed Ben honged with a tendre thred. That proved was on Uluxes; For whan he was most in his pes, Fortune gan to make him werre And sette his welthe al out of herre. Upon a dai as he was merie, As thogh ther mihte him nothing derie, 1520 Whan nyht was come, he goth to bedde, With slep and bothe his yhen fedde. And while he slepte, he mette a swevene: Him thoghte he syh a stature evene, Which brihtere than the sonne schon; A man it semeth was it non, Bot yit it was as in figure Most lich to mannyssh creature, Bot as of beaute hevenelich It was most to an Angel lich: 1530 And thus betwen angel and man Beholden it this king began, And such a lust tok of the sihte, That fain he wolde, if that he mihte, The forme of that figure embrace; And goth him forth toward the place, Wher he sih that ymage tho, And takth it in his Armes tuo, And it embraceth him ayein And to the king thus gan it sein: 1540 “Uluxes, understond wel this, The tokne of oure aqueintance is Hierafterward to mochel tene: The love that is ous betuene, Of that we nou such joie make, That on of ous the deth schal take, Whan time comth of destine; It may non other wise be.” Uluxes tho began to preie That this figure wolde him seie 1550 What wyht he is that seith him so. This wyht upon a spere tho A pensel which was wel begon, Embrouded, scheweth him anon: Thre fisshes alle of o colour In manere as it were a tour Upon the pensel were wroght. Uluxes kneu this tokne noght, And preith to wite in som partie What thing it myhte signefie, 1560 “A signe it is,” the wyht ansuerde, “Of an Empire:” and forth he ferde Al sodeinly, whan he that seide.

Uluxes out of slep abreide, And that was riht ayein the day, That lengere slepen he ne may. Men sein, a man hath knowleching Save of himself of alle thing; His oghne chance noman knoweth, Bot as fortune it on him throweth: 1570 Was nevere yit so wys a clerk, Which mihte knowe al goddes werk, Ne the secret which god hath set Ayein a man mai noght be let. Uluxes, thogh that he be wys, With al his wit in his avis, The mor that he his swevene acompteth, The lasse he wot what it amonteth: For al his calculacion, He seth no demonstracion 1580 Al pleinly forto knowe an ende; Bot natheles hou so it wende, He dradde him of his oghne Sone. That makth him wel the more astone, And schop therfore anon withal, So that withinne castel wall Thelamachum his Sone he schette, And upon him strong warde he sette. The sothe furthere he ne knew, Til that fortune him overthreu; 1590 Bot natheles for sikernesse, Wher that he mihte wite and gesse A place strengest in his lond, Ther let he make of lym and sond A strengthe where he wolde duelle; Was nevere man yit herde telle Of such an other as it was. And forto strengthe him in that cas, Of al his lond the sekereste Of servantz and the worthieste, 1600 To kepen him withinne warde, He sette his bodi forto warde; And made such an ordinance, For love ne for aqueintance, That were it erly, were it late, Thei scholde lete in ate gate No maner man, what so betydde, Bot if so were himself it bidde.

Bot al that myhte him noght availe, For whom fortune wole assaile, 1610 Ther mai be non such resistence, Which mihte make a man defence; Al that schal be mot falle algate. This Circes, which I spak of late, On whom Uluxes hath begete A child, thogh he it have foryete, Whan time com, as it was wone, Sche was delivered of a Sone, Which cleped is Thelogonus. This child, whan he was bore thus, 1620 Aboute his moder to ful age, That he can reson and langage, In good astat was drawe forth: And whan he was so mochel worth To stonden in a mannes stede, Circes his moder hath him bede That he schal to his fader go, And tolde him al togedre tho What man he was that him begat. And whan Thelogonus of that 1630 Was war and hath ful knowleching Hou that his fader was a king, He preith his moder faire this, To go wher that his fader is; And sche him granteth that he schal, And made him redi forth withal. It was that time such usance, That every man the conoiscance Of his contre bar in his hond, Whan he wente into strange lond; 1640 And thus was every man therfore Wel knowe, wher that he was bore: For espiaile and mistrowinges They dede thanne suche thinges, That every man mai other knowe. So it befell that ilke throwe Thelogonus as in this cas; Of his contre the signe was Thre fisshes, whiche he scholde bere Upon the penon of a spere: 1650 And whan that he was thus arraied And hath his harneis al assaied, That he was redy everydel, His moder bad him farewel, And seide him that he scholde swithe His fader griete a thousand sithe.

Thelogonus his moder kiste And tok his leve, and wher he wiste His fader was, the weie nam, Til he unto Nachaie cam, 1660 Which of that lond the chief Cite Was cleped, and ther axeth he Wher was the king and hou he ferde. And whan that he the sothe herde, Wher that the king Uluxes was, Al one upon his hors gret pas He rod him forth, and in his hond He bar the signal of his lond With fisshes thre, as I have told; And thus he wente unto that hold, 1670 Wher that his oghne fader duelleth. The cause why he comth he telleth Unto the kepers of the gate, And wolde have comen in therate, Bot schortli thei him seide nay: And he als faire as evere he may Besoghte and tolde hem ofte this, Hou that the king his fader is; Bot they with proude wordes grete Begunne to manace and threte, 1680 Bot he go fro the gate faste, Thei wolde him take and sette faste. Fro wordes unto strokes thus Thei felle, and so Thelogonus Was sore hurt and welnyh ded; Bot with his scharpe speres hed He makth defence, hou so it falle, And wan the gate upon hem alle, And hath slain of the beste fyve; And thei ascriden als so blyve 1690 Thurghout the castell al aboute.

On every syde men come oute, Wherof the kinges herte afflihte, And he with al the haste he mihte A spere cauhte and out he goth, As he that was nyh wod for wroth. He sih the gates ful of blod, Thelogonus and wher he stod He sih also, bot he ne knew What man it was, and to him threw 1700 His Spere, and he sterte out asyde. Bot destine, which schal betide, Befell that ilke time so, Thelogonus knew nothing tho What man it was that to him caste, And while his oghne spere laste, With al the signe therupon He caste unto the king anon, And smot him with a dedly wounde. Uluxes fell anon to grounde; 1710 Tho every man, “The king! the king!” Began to crie, and of this thing Thelogonus, which sih the cas, On knes he fell and seide, “Helas! I have min oghne fader slain: Nou wolde I deie wonder fain, Nou sle me who that evere wile, For certes it is right good skile.” He crith, he wepth, he seith therfore, “Helas, that evere was I bore, 1720 That this unhappi destine So wofulli comth in be me!” This king, which yit hath lif ynouh, His herte ayein to him he drouh, And to that vois an Ere he leide And understod al that he seide, And gan to speke, and seide on hih, “Bring me this man.” And whan he sih Thelogonus, his thoght he sette Upon the swevene which he mette, 1730 And axeth that he myhte se His spere, on which the fisshes thre He sih upon a pensel wroght. Tho wiste he wel it faileth noght, And badd him that he telle scholde Fro whenne he cam and what he wolde.

Thelogonus in sorghe and wo So as he mihte tolde tho Unto Uluxes al the cas, Hou that Circes his moder was, 1740 And so forth seide him everydel, Hou that his moder gret him wel, And in what wise sche him sente. Tho wiste Uluxes what it mente, And tok him in hise Armes softe, And al bledende he kest him ofte, And seide, “Sone, whil I live, This infortune I thee foryive.” After his other Sone in haste He sende, and he began him haste 1750 And cam unto his fader tyt. Bot whan he sih him in such plit, He wolde have ronne upon that other Anon, and slain his oghne brother, Ne hadde be that Uluxes Betwen hem made acord and pes, And to his heir Thelamachus He bad that he Thelogonus With al his pouer scholde kepe, Til he were of his woundes depe 1760 Al hol, and thanne he scholde him yive Lond wher upon he mihte live. Thelamachus, whan he this herde, Unto his fader he ansuerde And seide he wolde don his wille. So duelle thei togedre stille, These brethren, and the fader sterveth.

Lo, wherof Sorcerie serveth. Thurgh Sorcerie his lust he wan, Thurgh Sorcerie his wo began, 1770 Thurgh Sorcerie his love he ches, Thurgh Sorcerie his lif he les; The child was gete in Sorcerie, The which dede al this felonie: Thing which was ayein kynde wroght Unkindeliche it was aboght; The child his oghne fader slowh, That was unkindeschipe ynowh. Forthi tak hiede hou that it is, So forto winne love amis, 1780 Which endeth al his joie in wo: For of this Art I finde also, That hath be do for loves sake, Wherof thou miht ensample take, A gret Cronique imperial, Which evere into memorial Among the men, hou so it wende, Schal duelle to the worldes ende.

The hihe creatour of thinges, Which is the king of alle kinges, 1790 Ful many a wonder worldes chance Let slyden under his suffrance; Ther wot noman the cause why, Bot he the which is almyhty. And that was proved whilom thus, Whan that the king Nectanabus, Which hadde Egipte forto lede,— Bot for he sih tofor the dede Thurgh magique of his Sorcerie, Wherof he couthe a gret partie, 1800 Hise enemys to him comende, Fro whom he mihte him noght defende, Out of his oghne lond he fledde; And in the wise as he him dredde It fell, for al his wicchecraft, So that Egipte him was beraft, And he desguised fledde aweie Be schipe, and hield the rihte weie To Macedoine, wher that he Aryveth ate chief Cite. 1810 Thre yomen of his chambre there Al only forto serve him were, The whiche he trusteth wonder wel, For thei were trewe as eny stiel; And hapneth that thei with him ladde Part of the beste good he hadde. Thei take logginge in the toun After the disposicion Wher as him thoghte best to duelle: He axeth thanne and herde telle 1820 Hou that the king was oute go. Upon a werre he hadde tho; But in that Cite thanne was The queene, which Olimpias Was hote, and with sollempnete The feste of hir nativite, As it befell, was thanne holde; And for hire list to be beholde And preised of the poeple aboute, Sche schop hir forto riden oute 1830 At after mete al openly. Anon were alle men redy, And that was in the monthe of Maii, This lusti queene in good arrai Was set upon a Mule whyt: To sen it was a gret delit The joie that the cite made; With freisshe thinges and with glade The noble toun was al behonged, And every wiht was sore alonged 1840 To se this lusti ladi ryde. Ther was gret merthe on alle syde; Wher as sche passeth be the strete, Ther was ful many a tymber bete And many a maide carolende: And thus thurghout the toun pleiende This queene unto a pleine rod, Wher that sche hoved and abod To se diverse game pleie, The lusti folk jouste and tourneie; 1850 And so forth every other man, Which pleie couthe, his pley began, To plese with this noble queene.

Nectanabus cam to the grene Amonges othre and drouh him nyh. Bot whan that he this ladi sih And of hir beaute hiede tok, He couthe noght withdrawe his lok To se noght elles in the field, Bot stod and only hire behield. 1860 Of his clothinge and of his gere He was unlich alle othre there, So that it hapneth ate laste, The queene on him hire yhe caste, And knew that he was strange anon: Bot he behield hire evere in on Withoute blenchinge of his chere. Sche tok good hiede of his manere, And wondreth why he dede so, And bad men scholde for him go. 1870 He cam and dede hire reverence, And sche him axeth in cilence For whenne he cam and what he wolde. And he with sobre wordes tolde, And seith, “Ma dame, a clerk I am, To you and in message I cam, The which I mai noght tellen hiere; Bot if it liketh you to hiere, It mot be seid al prively, Wher non schal be bot ye and I.” 1880 Thus for the time he tok his leve. The dai goth forth til it was eve, That every man mot lete his werk; And sche thoghte evere upon this clerk, What thing it is he wolde mene: And in this wise abod the queene, And passeth over thilke nyht, Til it was on the morwe liht. Sche sende for him, and he com, With him his Astellabre he nom, 1890 Which was of fin gold precious With pointz and cercles merveilous; And ek the hevenely figures Wroght in a bok ful of peintures He tok this ladi forto schewe, And tolde of ech of hem be rewe The cours and the condicion. And sche with gret affeccion Sat stille and herde what he wolde: And thus whan he sih time, he tolde, 1900 And feigneth with hise wordes wise A tale, and seith in such a wise:

“Ma dame, bot a while ago, Wher I was in Egipte tho, And radde in scole of this science, It fell into mi conscience That I unto the temple wente, And ther with al myn hole entente As I mi sacrifice dede, On of the goddes hath me bede 1910 That I you warne prively, So that ye make you redy, And that ye be nothing agast; For he such love hath to you cast, That ye schul ben his oghne diere, And he schal be your beddefiere, Til ye conceive and be with childe.” And with that word sche wax al mylde, And somdel red becam for schame, And axeth him that goddes name, 1920 Which so wol don hire compainie. And he seide, “Amos of Lubie.” And sche seith, “That mai I noght lieve, Bot if I sihe a betre prieve.” “Ma dame,” quod Nectanabus, “In tokne that it schal be thus, This nyht for enformacion Ye schul have an avision: That Amos schal to you appiere, To schewe and teche in what manere 1930 The thing schal afterward befalle. Ye oghten wel above alle To make joie of such a lord; For whan ye ben of on acord, He schal a Sone of you begete, Which with his swerd schal winne and gete The wyde world in lengthe and brede; Alle erthli kinges schull him drede, And in such wise, I you behote, The god of erthe he schal be hote.” 1940 “If this be soth,” tho quod the queene, “This nyht, thou seist, it schal be sene. And if it falle into mi grace, Of god Amos, that I pourchace To take of him so gret worschipe, I wol do thee such ladischipe, Wherof thou schalt for everemo Be riche.” And he hir thonketh tho, And tok his leve and forth he wente. Sche wiste litel what he mente, 1950 For it was guile and Sorcerie, Al that sche tok for Prophecie.

Nectanabus thurghout the day, Whan he cam hom wher as he lay, His chambre be himselve tok, And overtorneth many a bok, And thurgh the craft of Artemage Of wex he forgeth an ymage. He loketh his equacions And ek the constellacions, 1960 He loketh the conjunccions, He loketh the recepcions, His signe, his houre, his ascendent, And drawth fortune of his assent: The name of queene Olimpias In thilke ymage write was Amiddes in the front above. And thus to winne his lust of love Nectanabus this werk hath diht; And whan it cam withinne nyht, 1970 That every wyht is falle aslepe, He thoghte he wolde his time kepe, As he which hath his houre apointed. And thanne ferst he hath enoignted With sondri herbes that figure, And therupon he gan conjure, So that thurgh his enchantement This ladi, which was innocent And wiste nothing of this guile, Mette, as sche slepte thilke while, 1980 Hou fro the hevene cam a lyht, Which al hir chambre made lyht; And as sche loketh to and fro, Sche sih, hir thoghte, a dragoun tho, Whos scherdes schynen as the Sonne, And hath his softe pas begonne With al the chiere that he may Toward the bedd ther as sche lay, Til he cam to the beddes side. And sche lai stille and nothing cride, 1990 For he dede alle his thinges faire And was courteis and debonaire: And as he stod hire fasteby, His forme he changeth sodeinly, And the figure of man he nom, To hire and into bedde he com, And such thing there of love he wroghte, Wherof, so as hire thanne thoghte, Thurgh likinge of this god Amos With childe anon hire wombe aros, 2000 And sche was wonder glad withal. Nectanabus, which causeth al Of this metrede the substance, Whan he sih time, his nigromance He stinte and nothing more seide Of his carecte, and sche abreide Out of hir slep, and lieveth wel That it is soth thanne everydel Of that this clerk hire hadde told, And was the gladdere manyfold 2010 In hope of such a glad metrede, Which after schal befalle in dede.

Sche longeth sore after the dai, That sche hir swevene telle mai To this guilour in privete, Which kneu it als so wel as sche: And natheles on morwe sone Sche lefte alle other thing to done, And for him sende, and al the cas Sche tolde him pleinly as it was, 2020 And seide hou thanne wel sche wiste That sche his wordes mihte triste, For sche fond hire Avisioun Riht after the condicion Which he hire hadde told tofore; And preide him hertely therfore That he hire holde covenant So forth of al the remenant, That sche may thurgh his ordinance Toward the god do such plesance, 2030 That sche wakende myhte him kepe In such wise as sche mette aslepe. And he, that couthe of guile ynouh, Whan he this herde, of joie he louh, And seith, “Ma dame, it schal be do. Bot this I warne you therto: This nyht, whan that he comth to pleie, That ther be no lif in the weie Bot I, that schal at his likinge Ordeine so for his cominge, 2040 That ye ne schull noght of him faile. For this, ma dame, I you consaile, That ye it kepe so prive, That no wiht elles bot we thre Have knowlechinge hou that it is; For elles mihte it fare amis, If ye dede oght that scholde him grieve.” And thus he makth hire to believe, And feigneth under guile feith: Bot natheles al that he seith 2050 Sche troweth; and ayein the nyht Sche hath withinne hire chambre dyht, Wher as this guilour faste by Upon this god schal prively Awaite, as he makth hire to wene: And thus this noble gentil queene, Whan sche most trusteth, was deceived.

The nyht com, and the chambre is weyved, Nectanabus hath take his place, And whan he sih the time and space, 2060 Thurgh the deceipte of his magique He putte him out of mannes like, And of a dragoun tok the forme, As he which wolde him al conforme To that sche sih in swevene er this; And thus to chambre come he is. The queene lay abedde and sih, And hopeth evere, as he com nyh, That he god of Lubye were, So hath sche wel the lasse fere. 2070 Bot for he wolde hire more assure, Yit eft he changeth his figure, And of a wether the liknesse He tok, in signe of his noblesse With large hornes for the nones: Of fin gold and of riche stones A corone on his hed he bar, And soudeinly, er sche was war, As he which alle guile can, His forme he torneth into man, 2080 And cam to bedde, and sche lai stille, Wher as sche soffreth al his wille, As sche which wende noght misdo. Bot natheles it hapneth so, Althogh sche were in part deceived, Yit for al that sche hath conceived The worthieste of alle kiththe, Which evere was tofore or siththe Of conqueste and chivalerie; So that thurgh guile and Sorcerie 2090 Ther was that noble knyht begunne, Which al the world hath after wunne. Thus fell the thing which falle scholde, Nectanabus hath that he wolde; With guile he hath his love sped, With guile he cam into the bed, With guile he goth him out ayein: He was a schrewed chamberlein, So to beguile a worthi queene, And that on him was after seene. 2100 Bot natheles the thing is do; This false god was sone go, With his deceipte and hield him clos, Til morwe cam, that he aros.

And tho, whan time and leisir was, The queene tolde him al the cas, As sche that guile non supposeth; And of tuo pointz sche him opposeth. On was, if that this god nomore Wol come ayein, and overmore, 2110 Hou sche schal stonden in acord With king Philippe hire oghne lord, Whan he comth hom and seth hire grone. “Ma dame,” he seith, “let me alone: As for the god I undertake That whan it liketh you to take His compaignie at eny throwe, If I a day tofore it knowe, He schal be with you on the nyht; And he is wel of such a myht 2120 To kepe you from alle blame. Forthi conforte you, ma dame, Ther schal non other cause be.” Thus tok he leve and forth goth he, And tho began he forto muse Hou he the queene mihte excuse Toward the king of that is falle; And fond a craft amonges alle, Thurgh which he hath a See foul daunted, With his magique and so enchaunted, 2130 That he flyh forth, whan it was nyht, Unto the kinges tente riht, Wher that he lay amidde his host: And whanne he was aslepe most, With that the See foul to him broghte And othre charmes, whiche he wroghte At hom withinne his chambre stille, The king he torneth at his wille, And makth him forto dreme and se The dragoun and the privete 2140 Which was betuen him and the queene. And over that he made him wene In swevene, hou that the god Amos, Whan he up fro the queene aros, Tok forth a ring, wherinne a ston Was set, and grave therupon A Sonne, in which, whan he cam nyh, A leoun with a swerd he sih; And with that priente, as he tho mette, Upon the queenes wombe he sette 2150 A Seal, and goth him forth his weie. With that the swevene wente aweie, And tho began the king awake And sigheth for his wyves sake, Wher as he lay withinne his tente, And hath gret wonder what it mente.

With that he hasteth him to ryse Anon, and sende after the wise, Among the whiche ther was on, A clerc, his name is Amphion: 2160 Whan he the kinges swevene herde, What it betokneth he ansuerde, And seith, “So siker as the lif, A god hath leie be thi wif, And gete a Sone, which schal winne The world and al that is withinne. As leon is the king of bestes, So schal the world obeie his hestes, Which with his swerd schal al be wonne, Als ferr as schyneth eny Sonne.” 2170

The king was doubtif of this dom; Bot natheles, whan that he com Ayein into his oghne lond, His wif with childe gret he fond. He mihte noght himselve stiere, That he ne made hire hevy chiere; Bot he which couthe of alle sorwe, Nectanabus, upon the morwe Thurgh the deceipte and nigromance Tok of a dragoun the semblance, 2180 And wher the king sat in his halle, Com in rampende among hem alle With such a noise and such a rore, That thei agast were also sore As thogh thei scholde deie anon. And natheles he grieveth non, Bot goth toward the deyss on hih; And whan he cam the queene nyh, He stinte his noise, and in his wise To hire he profreth his servise, 2190 And leith his hed upon hire barm; And sche with goodly chiere hire arm Aboute his necke ayeinward leide, And thus the queene with him pleide In sihte of alle men aboute. And ate laste he gan to loute And obeissance unto hire make, As he that wolde his leve take; And sodeinly his lothly forme Into an Egle he gan transforme, 2200 And flyh and sette him on a raile; Wherof the king hath gret mervaile, For there he pruneth him and piketh, As doth an hauk whan him wel liketh, And after that himself he schok, Wherof that al the halle quok, As it a terremote were; Thei seiden alle, god was there: In such a res and forth he flyh.

The king, which al this wonder syh, 2210 Whan he cam to his chambre alone, Unto the queene he made his mone And of foryivenesse hir preide; For thanne he knew wel, as he seide, Sche was with childe with a godd. Thus was the king withoute rodd Chastised, and the queene excused Of that sche hadde ben accused. And for the gretere evidence, Yit after that in the presence 2220 Of king Philipp and othre mo, Whan thei ride in the fieldes tho, A Phesant cam before here yhe, The which anon as thei hire syhe, Fleende let an ey doun falle, And it tobrak tofore hem alle: And as thei token therof kepe, Thei syhe out of the schelle crepe A litel Serpent on the ground, Which rampeth al aboute round, 2230 And in ayein it wolde have wonne, Bot for the brennynge of the Sonne It mihte noght, and so it deide. And therupon the clerkes seide, “As the Serpent, whan it was oute, Went enviroun the schelle aboute And mihte noght torne in ayein, So schal it fallen in certein: This child the world schal environe, And above alle the corone 2240 Him schal befalle, and in yong Age He schal desire in his corage, Whan al the world is in his hond, To torn ayein into the lond Wher he was bore, and in his weie Homward he schal with puison deie.”

The king, which al this sih and herde, Fro that dai forth, hou so it ferde, His jalousie hath al foryete. Bot he which hath the child begete, 2250 Nectanabus, in privete The time of his nativite Upon the constellacioun Awaiteth, and relacion Makth to the queene hou sche schal do, And every houre apointeth so, That no mynut therof was lore. So that in due time is bore This child, and forth with therupon Ther felle wondres many on 2260 Of terremote universiel: The Sonne tok colour of stiel And loste his lyht, the wyndes blewe, And manye strengthes overthrewe; The See his propre kinde changeth, And al the world his forme strangeth; The thonder with his fyri levene So cruel was upon the hevene, That every erthli creature Tho thoghte his lif in aventure. 2270 The tempeste ate laste cesseth, The child is kept, his age encresseth, And Alisandre his name is hote, To whom Calistre and Aristote To techen him Philosophie Entenden, and Astronomie, With othre thinges whiche he couthe Also, to teche him in his youthe Nectanabus tok upon honde.

Bot every man mai understonde, 2280 Of Sorcerie hou that it wende, It wole himselve prove at ende, And namely forto beguile A lady, which withoute guile Supposeth trouthe al that sche hiereth: Bot often he that evele stiereth His Schip is dreynt therinne amidde; And in this cas riht so betidde. Nectanabus upon a nyht, Whan it was fair and sterre lyht, 2290 This yonge lord ladde up on hih Above a tour, wher as he sih Thee sterres such as he acompteth, And seith what ech of hem amonteth, As thogh he knewe of alle thing; Bot yit hath he no knowleching What schal unto himself befalle. Whan he hath told his wordes alle, This yonge lord thanne him opposeth, And axeth if that he supposeth 2300 What deth he schal himselve deie. He seith, “Or fortune is aweie And every sterre hath lost his wone, Or elles of myn oghne Sone I schal be slain, I mai noght fle.” Thoghte Alisandre in privete, “Hierof this olde dotard lieth”: And er that other oght aspieth, Al sodeinliche his olde bones He schof over the wal at ones, 2310 And seith him, “Ly doun there apart: Wherof nou serveth al thin art? Thou knewe alle othre mennes chance And of thiself hast ignorance: That thou hast seid amonges alle Of thi persone, is noght befalle.”

Nectanabus, which hath his deth, Yit while him lasteth lif and breth, To Alisandre he spak and seide That he with wrong blame on him leide 2320 Fro point to point and al the cas He tolde, hou he his Sone was. Tho he, which sory was ynowh, Out of the dich his fader drouh, And tolde his moder hou it ferde In conseil; and whan sche it herde And kneu the toknes whiche he tolde, Sche nyste what sche seie scholde, Bot stod abayssht as for the while Of his magique and al the guile. 2330 Sche thoghte hou that sche was deceived, That sche hath of a man conceived, And wende a god it hadde be. Bot natheles in such degre, So as sche mihte hire honour save, Sche schop the body was begrave.

And thus Nectanabus aboghte The Sorcerie which he wroghte: Thogh he upon the creatures Thurgh his carectes and figures 2340 The maistrie and the pouer hadde, His creatour to noght him ladde, Ayein whos lawe his craft he useth, Whan he for lust his god refuseth, And tok him to the dieules craft. Lo, what profit him is belaft: That thing thurgh which he wende have stonde, Ferst him exilede out of londe Which was his oghne, and from a king Made him to ben an underling; 2350 And siththen to deceive a queene, That torneth him to mochel teene; Thurgh lust of love he gat him hate, That ende couthe he noght abate. His olde sleyhtes whiche he caste, Yonge Alisaundre hem overcaste, His fader, which him misbegat, He slouh, a gret mishap was that; Bot for o mis an other mys Was yolde, and so fulofte it is; 2360 Nectanabus his craft miswente, So it misfell him er he wente. I not what helpeth that clergie Which makth a man to do folie, And nameliche of nigromance, Which stant upon the mescreance.

And forto se more evidence, Zorastes, which thexperience Of Art magique ferst forth drouh, Anon as he was bore, he louh, 2370 Which tokne was of wo suinge: For of his oghne controvinge He fond magique and tauhte it forth; Bot al that was him litel worth, For of Surrie a worthi king Him slou, and that was his endyng. Bot yit thurgh him this craft is used, And he thurgh al the world accused, For it schal nevere wel achieve That stant noght riht with the believe: 2380 Bot lich to wolle is evele sponne, Who lest himself hath litel wonne, An ende proveth every thing. Saul, which was of Juys king, Up peine of deth forbad this art, And yit he tok therof his part. The Phitonesse in Samarie Yaf him conseil be Sorcerie, Which after fell to mochel sorwe, For he was slain upon the morwe. 2390

To conne moche thing it helpeth, Bot of to mochel noman yelpeth: So forto loke on every side, Magique mai noght wel betyde. Forthi, my Sone, I wolde rede That thou of these ensamples drede, That for no lust of erthli love Thou seche so to come above, Wherof as in the worldes wonder Thou schalt for evere be put under. 2400

Mi goode fader, grant mercy, For evere I schal be war therby: Of love what me so befalle, Such Sorcerie aboven alle Fro this dai forth I schal eschuie, That so ne wol I noght poursuie Mi lust of love forto seche. Bot this I wolde you beseche, Beside that me stant of love, As I you herde speke above 2410 Hou Alisandre was betawht To Aristotle, and so wel tawht Of al that to a king belongeth, Wherof min herte sore longeth To wite what it wolde mene. For be reson I wolde wene That if I herde of thinges strange, Yit for a time it scholde change Mi peine, and lisse me somdiel.

Mi goode Sone, thou seist wel. 2420 For wisdom, hou that evere it stonde, To him that can it understonde Doth gret profit in sondri wise; Bot touchende of so hih aprise, Which is noght unto Venus knowe, I mai it noght miselve knowe, Which of hir court am al forthdrawe And can nothing bot of hir lawe. Bot natheles to knowe more Als wel as thou me longeth sore; 2430 And for it helpeth to comune, Al ben thei noght to me comune, The scoles of Philosophie, Yit thenke I forto specefie, In boke as it is comprehended, Wherof thou mihtest ben amended. For thogh I be noght al cunnynge Upon the forme of this wrytynge, Som part therof yit have I herd, In this matiere hou it hath ferd. 2440

Explicit Liber Sextus

Incipit Liber Septimus.

Omnibus in causis sapiens doctrina salutem Consequitur, nec habet quis nisi doctus opem. Naturam superat doctrina, viro quod et ortus Ingenii docilis non dedit, ipsa dabit. Non ita discretus hominum per climata regnat, Quin magis ut sapiat, indiget ipse schole.

I Genius the prest of love, Mi Sone, as thou hast preid above That I the Scole schal declare Of Aristotle and ek the fare Of Alisandre, hou he was tauht, I am somdel therof destrauht; For it is noght to the matiere Of love, why we sitten hiere To schryve, so as Venus bad. Bot natheles, for it is glad, 10 So as thou seist, for thin aprise To hiere of suche thinges wise, Wherof thou myht the time lisse, So as I can, I schal the wisse: For wisdom is at every throwe Above alle other thing to knowe In loves cause and elleswhere. Forthi, my Sone, unto thin Ere, Though it be noght in the registre Of Venus, yit of that Calistre 20 And Aristotle whylom write To Alisandre, thou schalt wite.

Bot for the lores ben diverse, I thenke ferst to the reherce The nature of Philosophie, Which Aristotle of his clergie, Wys and expert in the sciences, Declareth thilke intelligences, As of thre pointz in principal.

Wherof the ferste in special 30 Is Theorique, which is grounded On him which al the world hath founded, Which comprehendeth al the lore.

And forto loken overmore, Next of sciences the seconde Is Rethorique, whos faconde Above alle othre is eloquent: To telle a tale in juggement So wel can noman speke as he.

The laste science of the thre 40 It is Practique, whos office The vertu tryeth fro the vice, And techeth upon goode thewes To fle the compaignie of schrewes, Which stant in disposicion Of mannes free eleccion. Practique enformeth ek the reule, Hou that a worthi king schal reule His Realme bothe in werre and pes.

Lo, thus danz Aristotiles 50 These thre sciences hath divided And the nature also decided, Wherof that ech of hem schal serve.

The ferste, which is the conserve And kepere of the remnant, As that which is most sufficant And chief of the Philosophie, If I therof schal specefie So as the Philosophre tolde, Nou herkne, and kep that thou it holde. 60

Of Theorique principal The Philosophre in special The propretees hath determined, As thilke which is enlumined Of wisdom and of hih prudence Above alle othre in his science: And stant departed upon thre, The ferste of which in his degre Is cleped in Philosophie The science of Theologie, 70 That other named is Phisique, The thridde is seid Mathematique.

Theologie is that science Which unto man yifth evidence Of thing which is noght bodely, Wherof men knowe redely The hihe almyhti Trinite, Which is o god in unite Withouten ende and beginnynge And creatour of alle thinge, 80 Of hevene, of erthe and ek of helle. Wherof, as olde bokes telle, The Philosophre in his resoun Wrot upon this conclusioun, And of his wrytinge in a clause He clepeth god the ferste cause, Which of himself is thilke good, Withoute whom nothing is good, Of which that every creature Hath his beinge and his nature. 90 After the beinge of the thinges Ther ben thre formes of beinges: Thing which began and ende schal, That thing is cleped temporal; Ther is also be other weie Thing which began and schal noght deie. As Soules, that ben spiritiel, Here beinge is perpetuel: Bot ther is on above the Sonne, Whos time nevere was begonne, 100 And endeles schal evere be; That is the god, whos mageste Alle othre thinges schal governe, And his beinge is sempiterne. The god, to whom that al honour Belongeth, he is creatour, And othre ben hise creatures: The god commandeth the natures That thei to him obeien alle; Withouten him, what so befalle, 110 Her myht is non, and he mai al: The god was evere and evere schal, And thei begonne of his assent; The times alle be present To god, to hem and alle unknowe, Bot what him liketh that thei knowe: Thus bothe an angel and a man, The whiche of al that god began Be chief, obeien goddes myht, And he stant endeles upriht. 120 To this science ben prive The clerkes of divinite, The whiche unto the poeple prechen The feith of holi cherche and techen, Which in som cas upon believe Stant more than thei conne prieve Be weie of Argument sensible: Bot natheles it is credible, And doth a man gret meede have, To him that thenkth himself to save. 130 Theologie in such a wise Of hih science and hih aprise Above alle othre stant unlike, And is the ferste of Theorique.

Phisique is after the secounde, Thurgh which the Philosophre hath founde To techen sondri knowlechinges Upon the bodiliche thinges. Of man, of beste, of herbe, of ston, Of fissch, of foughl, of everychon 140 That ben of bodely substance, The nature and the circumstance Thurgh this science it is ful soght, Which vaileth and which vaileth noght.

The thridde point of Theorique, Which cleped is Mathematique, Devided is in sondri wise And stant upon diverse aprise. The ferste of whiche is Arsmetique, And the secounde is seid Musique, 150 The thridde is ek Geometrie, Also the ferthe Astronomie.

Of Arsmetique the matiere Is that of which a man mai liere What Algorisme in nombre amonteth, Whan that the wise man acompteth After the formel proprete Of Algorismes Abece: Be which multiplicacioun Is mad and diminucioun 160 Of sommes be thexperience Of this Art and of this science.

The seconde of Mathematique, Which is the science of Musique, That techeth upon Armonie A man to make melodie Be vois and soun of instrument Thurgh notes of acordement, The whiche men pronounce alofte, Nou scharpe notes and nou softe, 170 Nou hihe notes and nou lowe, As be the gamme a man mai knowe, Which techeth the prolacion Of note and the condicion.

Mathematique of his science Hath yit the thridde intelligence Full of wisdom and of clergie And cleped is Geometrie, Thurgh which a man hath thilke sleyhte, Of lengthe, of brede, of depthe, of heyhte 180 To knowe the proporcion Be verrai calculacion Of this science: and in this wise These olde Philosophres wise, Of al this worldes erthe round, Hou large, hou thikke was the ground, Controeveden thexperience; The cercle and the circumference Of every thing unto the hevene Thei setten point and mesure evene. 190

Mathematique above therthe Of hyh science hath yit the ferthe, Which spekth upon Astronomie And techeth of the sterres hihe, Beginnynge upward fro the mone. Bot ferst, as it was forto done, This Aristotle in other thing Unto this worthi yonge king The kinde of every element Which stant under the firmament, 200 Hou it is mad and in what wise, Fro point to point he gan devise.

Tofore the creacion Of eny worldes stacion, Of hevene, of erthe, or eke of helle, So as these olde bokes telle, As soun tofore the song is set And yit thei ben togedre knet, Riht so the hihe pourveance Tho hadde under his ordinance 210 A gret substance, a gret matiere, Of which he wolde in his manere These othre thinges make and forme. For yit withouten eny forme Was that matiere universal, Which hihte Ylem in special. Of Ylem, as I am enformed, These elementz ben mad and formed, Of Ylem elementz they hote After the Scole of Aristote, 220 Of whiche if more I schal reherce, Foure elementz ther ben diverse.

The ferste of hem men erthe calle, Which is the lowest of hem alle, And in his forme is schape round, Substancial, strong, sadd and sound, As that which mad is sufficant To bere up al the remenant. For as the point in a compas Stant evene amiddes, riht so was 230 This erthe set and schal abyde, That it may swerve to no side, And hath his centre after the lawe Of kinde, and to that centre drawe Desireth every worldes thing, If ther ne were no lettyng.

Above therthe kepth his bounde The water, which is the secounde Of elementz, and al withoute It environeth therthe aboute. 240 Bot as it scheweth, noght forthi This soubtil water myhtely, Thogh it be of himselve softe, The strengthe of therthe perceth ofte; For riht as veines ben of blod In man, riht so the water flod Therthe of his cours makth ful of veines, Als wel the helles as the pleines. And that a man may sen at ije, For wher the hulles ben most hyhe, 250 Ther mai men welle stremes finde: So proveth it be weie of kinde The water heyher than the lond.

And over this nou understond, Air is the thridde of elementz, Of whos kinde his aspirementz Takth every lifissh creature, The which schal upon erthe endure: For as the fissh, if it be dreie, Mot in defaute of water deie, 260 Riht so withouten Air on lyve No man ne beste myhte thryve, The which is mad of fleissh and bon; There is outake of alle non.

This Air in Periferies thre Divided is of such degre, Benethe is on and on amidde, To whiche above is set the thridde: And upon the divisions There ben diverse impressions 270 Of moist and ek of drye also, Whiche of the Sonne bothe tuo Ben drawe and haled upon hy, And maken cloudes in the Sky, As schewed is at mannes sihte; Wherof be day and ek be nyhte After the times of the yer Among ous upon Erthe her In sondri wise thinges falle.

The ferste Periferie of alle 280 Engendreth Myst and overmore The dewes and the Frostes hore, After thilke intersticion In which thei take impression.

Fro the seconde, as bokes sein, The moiste dropes of the reyn Descenden into Middilerthe, And tempreth it to sed and Erthe, And doth to springe grass and flour. And ofte also the grete schour 290 Out of such place it mai be take, That it the forme schal forsake Of reyn, and into snow be torned; And ek it mai be so sojorned In sondri places up alofte, That into hail it torneth ofte.

The thridde of thair after the lawe Thurgh such matiere as up is drawe Of dreie thing, as it is ofte, Among the cloudes upon lofte, 300 And is so clos, it may noght oute,— Thanne is it chased sore aboute, Til it to fyr and leyt be falle, And thanne it brekth the cloudes alle, The whiche of so gret noyse craken, That thei the feerful thonder maken. The thonderstrok smit er it leyte, And yit men sen the fyr and leyte, The thonderstrok er that men hiere: So mai it wel be proeved hiere 310 In thing which schewed is fro feer, A mannes yhe is there nerr Thanne is the soun to mannes Ere. And natheles it is gret feere Bothe of the strok and of the fyr, Of which is no recoverir In place wher that thei descende, Bot if god wolde his grace sende.

And forto speken over this, In this partie of thair it is 320 That men fulofte sen be nyhte The fyr in sondri forme alyhte. Somtime the fyrdrake it semeth, And so the lewed poeple it demeth; Somtime it semeth as it were A Sterre, which that glydeth there: Bot it is nouther of the tuo, The Philosophre telleth so, And seith that of impressions Thurgh diverse exalacions 330 Upon the cause and the matiere Men sen diverse forme appiere Of fyr, the which hath sondri name.

Assub, he seith, is thilke same, The which in sondry place is founde, Whanne it is falle doun to grounde, So as the fyr it hath aneled, Lich unto slym which is congeled.

Of exalacion I finde Fyr kinled of the fame kinde, 340 Bot it is of an other forme; Wherof, if that I schal conforme The figure unto that it is, These olde clerkes tellen this, That it is lik a Got skippende, And for that it is such semende, It hatte Capra saliens.

And ek these Astronomiens An other fyr also, be nyhte Which scheweth him to mannes syhte, 350 Thei clepen Eges, the which brenneth Lik to the corrant fyr that renneth Upon a corde, as thou hast sein, Whan it with poudre is so besein Of Sulphre and othre thinges mo.

Ther is an other fyr also, Which semeth to a mannes yhe Be nyhtes time as thogh ther flyhe A dragon brennende in the Sky, And that is cleped proprely 360 Daaly, wherof men sein fulofte, “Lo, wher the fyri drake alofte Fleth up in thair!” and so thei demen. Bot why the fyres suche semen Of sondri formes to beholde, The wise Philosophre tolde, So as tofore it hath ben herd.

Lo thus, my Sone, hou it hath ferd: Of Air the due proprete In sondri wise thou myht se, 370 And hou under the firmament It is ek the thridde element, Which environeth bothe tuo, The water and the lond also.

And forto tellen overthis Of elementz which the ferthe is, That is the fyr in his degre, Which environeth thother thre And is withoute moist al drye. Bot lest nou what seith the clergie; 380 For upon hem that I have seid The creatour hath set and leid The kinde and the complexion Of alle mennes nacion. Foure elementz sondri ther be, Lich unto whiche of that degre Among the men ther ben also Complexions foure and nomo, Wherof the Philosophre treteth, That he nothing behinde leteth, 390 And seith hou that thei ben diverse, So as I schal to thee reherse.

He which natureth every kinde, The myhti god, so as I finde, Of man, which is his creature, Hath so devided the nature, That non til other wel acordeth: And be the cause it so discordeth, The lif which fieleth the seknesse Mai stonde upon no sekernesse. 400

Of therthe, which is cold and drye, The kinde of man Malencolie Is cleped, and that is the ferste, The most ungoodlich and the werste; For unto loves werk on nyht Him lacketh bothe will and myht: No wonder is, in lusty place Of love though he lese grace. What man hath that complexion, Full of ymaginacion 410 Of dredes and of wrathful thoghtes, He fret himselven al to noghtes.

The water, which is moyste and cold, Makth fleume, which is manyfold Foryetel, slou and wery sone Of every thing which is to done: He is of kinde sufficant To holde love his covenant, Bot that him lacketh appetit, Which longeth unto such delit. 420

What man that takth his kinde of thair, He schal be lyht, he schal be fair, For his complexion is blood. Of alle ther is non so good, For he hath bothe will and myht To plese and paie love his riht: Wher as he hath love undertake, Wrong is if that he be forsake.

The fyr of his condicion Appropreth the complexion 430 Which in a man is Colre hote, Whos propretes ben dreie and hote: It makth a man ben enginous And swift of fote and ek irous; Of contek and folhastifnesse He hath a riht gret besinesse, To thenke of love and litel may: Though he behote wel a day, On nyht whan that he wole assaie, He may ful evele his dette paie. 440

After the kinde of thelement, Thus stant a mannes kinde went, As touchende his complexion, Upon sondri division Of dreie, of moiste, of chele, of hete, And ech of hem his oghne sete Appropred hath withinne a man. And ferst to telle as I began,

The Splen is to Malencolie Assigned for herbergerie: 450

The moiste fleume with his cold Hath in the lunges for his hold Ordeined him a propre stede, To duelle ther as he is bede:

To the Sanguin complexion Nature of hire inspeccion A propre hous hath in the livere For his duellinge mad delivere:

The dreie Colre with his hete Be weie of kinde his propre sete 460 Hath in the galle, wher he duelleth, So as the Philosophre telleth.

Nou over this is forto wite, As it is in Phisique write Of livere, of lunge, of galle, of splen, Thei alle unto the herte ben Servantz, and ech in his office Entendeth to don him service, As he which is chief lord above. The livere makth him forto love, 470 The lunge yifth him weie of speche, The galle serveth to do wreche, The Splen doth him to lawhe and pleie, Whan al unclennesse is aweie: Lo, thus hath ech of hem his dede. And to sustienen hem and fede In time of recreacion, Nature hath in creacion The Stomach for a comun Coc Ordeined, so as seith the boc. 480 The Stomach coc is for the halle, And builleth mete for hem alle, To make hem myghty forto serve The herte, that he schal noght sterve: For as a king in his Empire Above alle othre is lord and Sire, So is the herte principal, To whom reson in special Is yove as for the governance.

And thus nature his pourveance 490 Hath mad for man to liven hiere; Bot god, which hath the Soule diere, Hath formed it in other wise. That can noman pleinli devise; Bot as the clerkes ous enforme, That lich to god it hath a forme, Thurgh which figure and which liknesse The Soule hath many an hyh noblesse Appropred to his oghne kinde. Bot ofte hir wittes be mad blinde 500 Al onliche of this ilke point, That hir abydinge is conjoint Forth with the bodi forto duelle: That on desireth toward helle, That other upward to the hevene; So schul thei nevere stonde in evene, Bot if the fleissh be overcome And that the Soule have holi nome The governance, and that is selde, Whil that the fleissh him mai bewelde. 510 Al erthli thing which god began Was only mad to serve man; Bot he the Soule al only made Himselven forto serve and glade. Alle othre bestes that men finde Thei serve unto here oghne kinde, Bot to reson the Soule serveth; Wherof the man his thonk deserveth And get him with hise werkes goode The perdurable lyves foode. 520

Of what matiere it schal be told, A tale lyketh manyfold The betre, if it be spoke plein: Thus thinke I forto torne ayein And telle plenerly therfore Of therthe, wherof nou tofore I spak, and of the water eke, So as these olde clerkes spieke, And sette proprely the bounde After the forme of Mappemounde, 530 Thurgh which the ground be pourparties Departed is in thre parties, That is Asie, Aufrique, Europe, The whiche under the hevene cope, Als ferr as streccheth eny ground, Begripeth al this Erthe round. Bot after that the hihe wrieche The water weies let out seche And overgo the helles hye, Which every kinde made dye 540 That upon Middelerthe stod, Outake Noë and his blod, His Sones and his doughtres thre, Thei were sauf and so was he;— Here names who that rede rihte, Sem, Cam, Japhet the brethren hihte;— And whanne thilke almyhty hond Withdrouh the water fro the lond, And al the rage was aweie, And Erthe was the mannes weie, 550 The Sones thre, of whiche I tolde, Riht after that hemselve wolde, This world departe thei begonne.